Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing #25: The Man of Steal : When Roger Cedeño Made Mets Baseball Fun Again

Welcome to the twenty-fifth installment of Mets Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly meditation on the players who’ve slipped through the cracks of Mets history like sunflower seeds through the Shea Stadium bleachers. This is where we remember the names that don’t quite make the highlight reels or the bobblehead nights, though every so often they pop up on Old Timers’ Day—more curiosity than crown jewel.

Last week, we wandered back to the early ’80s to talk about Neil Allen, the hard-throwing, confident righty who was part firecracker, part steady hand, and the trade piece that helped bring Keith Hernandez to Queens. He didn’t save the Mets, but for a few years, he kept them interesting.

This week, we fast forward to the ’90s, a decade of transition and rebuilding for the franchise. It was an era when flashes of talent showed up amid ups and downs, and one player stood out not with the power or the glamour, but with speed, versatility, and steady professionalism that quietly helped keep the Mets competitive.

Let’s talk about Roger Cedeño, the speedy outfielder who zipped around the bases and made a name for himself as a reliable bat and glove in the middle of some tough Mets seasons. Not a household name, but a key piece of those ’90s squads—one of those players who quietly earned his place and the respect of fans who watched closely.

Roger Cedeño may not be a Mets legend, but for a time, he was a player worth remembering.

Roger Cedeño didn’t make a lot of headlines. He didn’t flip bats, break microphones, or star in any CitiBank commercials. But if you were paying attention in 1999, you know what he did: he ran. And ran. And ran. And for one electric season in Queens, Cedeño was a blur in a blue-and-orange uniform—stretching singles into doubles, doubles into triples, and pitchers’ nerves into mush.

Cedeño arrived in Flushing like a bolt of speed from the West Coast, part of a trade that sent Todd Hundley to L.A. It felt like an afterthought at the time—Hundley was the hometown kid with pop, and Cedeño, well, was a guy who’d batted .242 the year before. But something clicked the minute he put on a Mets jersey. Maybe it was the fresh start. Maybe it was the scent of the Shea outfield grass. Maybe it was just good old-fashioned Venezuelan hustle.

Whatever it was, 1999 was magic. Cedeño hit .313, got on base at nearly a .400 clip, and stole 66 bases, shattering a Mets record that had stood since Mookie Wilson was giving fans heart palpitations in the ‘80s. He turned walks into doubles and bloopers into chaos. Every time he got on base, Shea Stadium leaned forward like grandma waiting for Jeopardy to reveal the Daily Double.

And then—poof—he was gone.

That December, the Mets flipped him to Houston in the deal that brought back Mike Hampton, the lefty who would help pitch the Mets to the 2000 World Series. It was a baseball move, a good one on paper. But for those of us who fell in love with the galloping gait of #6 tearing around second, it felt like the end of a brief summer romance.

Cedeño bounced around after that. A solid season in Detroit. A broken hand in Houston from sliding headfirst into first base (kids, don’t try this at home). Then, like a boomerang, he came back to Flushing in 2002. But the magic wasn’t quite the same. He still hit in the .260s and swiped a few bags—25 in ’02, 14 in ’03, just 5 in ’04—but that electrifying gear seemed gone. It happens. Father Time, hamstrings, and pitchers learning to hold runners—take your pick.

In total, Roger Cedeño played 452 games for the Mets across two stints, hit .279, and stole 105 bases. He was a bright spot during a time when the Mets were clawing their way back into contention. Not a superstar, not a savior—but a catalyst. A guy who made things happen.

After hanging up his cleats, Cedeño didn’t disappear. He stayed connected to the game and to his roots, founding charitable organizations in both Florida and Venezuela to support kids and communities in need. Baseball gave him a platform, and he’s used it to give back. You’ve got to respect that.

So no, you won’t find Roger Cedeño’s number retired at Citi Field. There’s no bobblehead night, no mural in the concourse. But for one unforgettable season, he made Mets baseball feel fast and fun again. And for that, he earns his seat in our Sunday School pew—another Forgotten Face of Flushing worth remembering.