Hit or Error? Baseball Digest's 1992 Rookie Edition Reexamined

In our thirtieth installment of Hit or Error, we turn the page to the March 1992 issue of Baseball Digest—and finally, the Mets’ farm system shows signs of life. After the barren wasteland that was the 1991 scouting report (three players, two reruns, zero joy), this edition feels like a minor league renaissance. Eight Mets prospects get writeups, including familiar faces Julio Valera and Anthony Young, both back for an encore whether we asked for one or not.

But the real excitement lies with the bats. For the first time in years, Baseball Digest spotlighted more than just beleaguered arms and broken dreams. In this week’s Hit or Error, we shine the light on four hitters who brought a glimmer of hope to the Shea faithful: Todd Hundley, Jeromy Burnitz, Jeff Gardner, and Chris Donnels. Did these names spark a revival—or just tease us with more false hope?

Let’s dig into the hype, the hindsight, and the heartbreak, and ask once again: did Baseball Digest hit the mark, or swing and miss?

Todd Hundley: The Kid Who Caught Fire (Then Got Caught in Left Field)

"Named to the postseason and midseason International League All-Star teams after leading Tidewater with 14 home runs... hit seven homers in 21 games (17 starts) with the Mets in September... Named fourth-best prospect in the International League by Baseball America."

Well, it wasn’t exactly a scouting report—it read more like a press release written by Todd’s uncle. But fine, let’s roll with it.

Todd Hundley arrived in Queens with more hype than a new Seinfeld episode, and for a while, the results looked more like a midseason rerun. The son of former Cubs catcher Randy Hundley, Todd came with a strong arm, a switch-hitting bat, and the kind of pedigree that gets a scout’s khakis in a twist. Drafted 39th overall in 1987 (as a consolation prize from the Orioles for stealing Ray Knight), he debuted with the Mets in 1990 as a wiry 20-year-old catcher with promise, and no clue how to hit big-league pitching.

Early on, he was the human embodiment of "wait 'til next year." By his own admission, he was overmatched. And not in a charming way—more like the way a Little Leaguer looks trying to hit off a JUGS machine set to "Randy Johnson."

But then something clicked. After battling injuries and growing pains, Hundley started turning heads—and baseballs—around. By 1996, he’d gone from “that kid who can’t hit” to “holy crap, he just hit another one.” He mashed 41 home runs that year, breaking Darryl Strawberry’s Mets single-season record and Roy Campanella’s long-standing record for homers by a catcher. For those of us who grew up thinking the only thing Mets catchers could hit was the trainer’s table, this was a revelation.

Hundley was an All-Star in both 1996 and 1997, and he even earned MVP votes in ’96. He wasn’t just a feel-good story—he was the *real deal*. The Shea faithful finally had a catcher to believe in again, and for a while, he carried the lineup like Yogi Berra with a hangover.

Then came Mike Piazza.

In 1998, the Mets acquired the slugging future Hall of Famer in a move that said, in effect, “Thanks for everything, Todd. Now go stand in left field and try not to trip over anything.” Hundley gamely tried to reinvent himself as an outfielder, which went about as well as your uncle trying to learn TikTok. He looked lost, uncomfortable, and about as natural in the outfield as a lawn chair on a freeway.

With his body breaking down and Piazza taking over, the Mets sent Hundley packing in a three-way deal that brought Armando Benítez and Roger Cedeño to New York. He went on to have a few moments in L.A. (including becoming the first visiting player to splash a home run into McCovey Cove), and later cashed in with a big contract from the Cubs. Unfortunately, his time in Chicago was… let’s say, less than beloved. Think "Santa Claus at Eagles game" levels of appreciation.

Still, despite the injuries, position changes, and messy endings, Hundley gave Mets fans a legit homegrown slugger behind the plate—something that had felt impossible for decades. His name may not be in Cooperstown, but he’s forever etched into the Mets record books, and into the hearts of fans who watched him grow from overwhelmed kid to historic home run hero.

Verdict: Hit — maybe not a Hall of Famer, but a true Mets success story who made history in blue and orange.

Jeromy Burnitz: The 30-30 Prospect Who Left Queens Before His Power Showed Up

Back in 1992, Jeromy Burnitz looked like the second coming of Darryl Strawberry — or at least someone who could bash 30 homers and swipe 30 bags without pulling a hamstring. A lefty slugger with a scowl, swagger, and serious pop, Burnitz mashed 31 homers and stole 31 bases at Double-A Williamsport, becoming the Eastern League’s first-ever 30-30 guy. The scouting reports were glowing: Mets No. 1 pick. Best long-ball prospect since Straw. Hits homers so hard they file restraining orders.

Naturally, the Mets gave him a cup of coffee, watched him spill it all over himself, and traded him before the pot finished brewing.

Burnitz’s first Mets stint was more flicker than flame. He had a rookie record 7-RBI game in ’93, raw power, and a temper that could melt dugout phone cords. After clashing with manager Dallas Green — never known for his sunny disposition — Burnitz was sent packing to Cleveland.

By the time he returned to the Mets in 2002, he was older, grittier, and still swinging for LaGuardia. That encore? Less Strawberry, more Pickle. He hit .215 with 19 homers and 135 strikeouts. One banner at Shea read: “Mendoza Called. He Wants His Line Back.”

But Burnitz’s story wasn’t just another Flushing flop. Once freed from early-'90s Shea and Cleveland’s crowded outfield, he found his groove in Milwaukee — a town that, like Burnitz, didn’t care much for subtlety.

Starting in 1997, Burnitz turned Miller Park into his launch pad. He averaged 33 homers and 100 RBIs from 1998–2001, made an All-Star team, and became a fan favorite by doing what he did best: swinging hard, sweating harder, and occasionally cursing at a ball before launching it 450 feet.

He wasn’t a superstar, but he was real — the embodiment of exit velocity before anyone called it that. His 165 Brewer homers were more than he hit with all his other teams combined.

Eventually, the Mets couldn’t resist and brought him back in 2002. But what they got wasn’t the All-Star version — it was the strikeout-prone, uppercut-happy version. The reunion had all the warmth of a tax audit.

So was Burnitz a hit or an error?

If you’re grading his Mets career alone: full-blown E-9. But zoom out, and it’s a different story. Burnitz hit 315 MLB homers, played 14 seasons, and made his mark — just not in Flushing.

He goes on the shelf with Hubie Brooks and Kevin Mitchell: guys who wore the orange and blue, but saved their greatest hits for someone else’s highlight reel.

Jeff Gardner—The Smooth Operator Who Couldn’t Quite Stick

In the world of baseball scouting reports, adjectives like “smooth,” “versatile,” and “All-Star” are the hot sauce—they make everything sound a little spicier than it actually is. Take Jeff Gardner, for instance. In 1991, Baseball Digest described him as a “smooth fielding infielder” who could “play at either short or second base,” a guy who hit .292 in the International League and made both the mid-season and post-season Triple-A All-Star teams. He even got a September cup of coffee and hit safely in his first five big-league games. At the time, Gardner looked like he could be a very useful ingredient in the Mets' crowded infield stew.

Fast forward a few years and... well, Gardner was more of a dash of seasoning than a main course.

Gardner, never quite stuck in the bigs. He ended up playing parts of four seasons with the Mets, Padres, and Expos—though “playing” is a generous term for what he did with the Mets and Expos, which mostly involved showing up, grabbing a few at-bats, and heading back to Triple-A before his coffee cooled.

After that first promising September with the Mets in 1991, when he hit just .162 in 13 games (but hey, he did hit safely in his first five!), Gardner bounced to the Padres, where in 1993 he finally got a real chance—140 games, 452 plate appearances, and a .262 average as San Diego’s starting second baseman. He was steady, unspectacular, and perhaps best described as the infield version of “that guy you sort of remember from the '93 Padres.” Not bad, but not quite the career his early reviews teased.

And speaking of early reviews, Gardner had a heck of a minor league run. He hit .295 across seven AAA seasons, walked a ton (656 times in the minors!), and always seemed like he was just this close to carving out a big-league niche. He even had a stop in the Cape Cod League and was named an All-Star there too—so the pedigree was there. But big-league pitchers have a way of turning “smooth” into “overmatched,” and Jeff’s .246 career MLB average came without any pop—just one home run in 549 plate appearances. One. Uno. Solo shot.

Still, in typical baseball-lifer fashion, Gardner stuck around the game. He managed in the Padres' minor league system, scouted for the Diamondbacks, and is now managing the Reno Aces in Triple-A. That tells you something about the guy—he may not have stuck as a player, but the game stuck with him.

Verdict:

Error... but with a great recovery throw to first.

Gardner didn’t quite become the utility gem the Mets envisioned, but he turned a decent minor league bat and a smooth glove into a long baseball life. And really, that’s more than most of us can say—even if he did leave his power stroke somewhere between Jackson and Tidewater.

From Tidewater to Tokyo: The Nomadic Career of Chris Donnels

Had solid year at Tidewater in 1991, worked also at 1B and 2B. Good line-drive hitter but average defensively. Will compete for spot with Mets in 1992.”

Chris Donnels was the classic "line-drive hitter" whose career line ultimately traced a winding arc through Queens, Houston, Boston, Japan, and Hollywood — with a cameo in the Mitchell Report to top it all off.

Out of Loyola Marymount, Donnels was the Mets’ 1st-round pick in 1987 and did exactly what the scouting report said he would: put together a solid 1991 in Triple-A (.303/.425/.467 at Tidewater), earning him a cup of coffee with the Mets. But the hot bat didn't travel north — Donnels batted just .225 in 37 games with no home runs, though he did notch an RBI in his debut off Tim Belcher. In 1992, despite another strong Triple-A showing, he struggled again in the majors (.174 in 45 games), and the Mets left him exposed in the expansion draft. The Marlins took him — then dropped him faster than a popup in the wind.

The Astros gave him a real shot, and in 1993, Donnels logged his career high in MLB games (88) and hit a decent .257 with his first two big-league homers. He followed that up with a solid .267 in 1994 and then a mixed 1995 before heading to Japan. There, Donnels found his groove again: 20 homers in 1996, and a .302 average with 17 HR in 1997 for Orix, where he played alongside Ichiro and went by the stylized moniker "C.D."

He returned stateside with the Dodgers in 2000 and had a remarkable comeback season, slashing .294/.390/.735 with 4 homers in just 41 plate appearances — a part-time power surge that seemed fueled by something... well, potent.

Indeed, Donnels was named in the Mitchell Report in 2007, cited for purchasing HGH and steroids between 2000 and 2004. That casts a different light on his late-career power renaissance, though it doesn’t erase the journeyman grit.

He closed his MLB career with the Diamondbacks in 2002 (.238, 3 HR in 74 games), had a brief stint in the minors, and officially hung 'em up in 2004 at age 38 after one last run with the Colorado Springs Sky Sox.

Final Line (MLB): 8 seasons, .233 average, 17 home runs, .321 OBP across 392 games.

Bonus: 3 seasons in Japan, .285 average, 42 HR.

Verdict: ERROR (but a productive export)

The scouting report got some things right — line-drive bat, average glove, positional flexibility. But while Donnels competed for a spot with the Mets in 1992, he never truly grabbed it. His best baseball was played overseas and off the bench, and while the power boost late in his career raised eyebrows (and red flags), he carved out a unique, globetrotting career. From Flushing to Fukuoka to Dodger Stadium, Chris Donnels did a lot more than fizzle — he just didn’t quite hit the mark projected for a first-round pick.

So, was the March 1992 issue of Baseball Digest a glimpse into a Mets renaissance, or just another mirage in the minor league desert? In true Amazin’ fashion, the answer is... a little of both. Todd Hundley fulfilled the prophecy and then some, rewriting the Mets record book before Piazza’s arrival pushed him to the outfield (and eventually out of town). Jeromy Burnitz became a star—just not in the right zip code. Jeff Gardner turned a smooth glove and solid résumé into a respectable baseball life, even if his bat never stuck. And Chris Donnels? He took the scenic route—via Japan and the Mitchell Report—but gave it one hell of a ride. As always, some hits, some errors, and plenty of stories left in the box score margins. See you next time in Hit or Error, where prospect dreams either take flight—or land somewhere just south of Shea