In Memoriam: Butch Huskey — More Than Just a Met, More Than Just a Number
There are baseball players you cover.
There are players you interview.
And then there are players you get to know.
Butch Huskey was one of those players for me.
That is why writing about his passing is considerably harder than writing a typical Kiner’s Korner in memoriam. piece. Butch wasn't simply a former Met whose career I followed from a distance. I got to know him through Mets Fantasy Camp, had him as a guest on my radio show, and later sat down with him for a Meet the Mets feature right here on the Korner.
So when I heard that Butch died Friday at just 54 years old, it wasn't a baseball story to me.
It was personal.
Butch Huskey was born November 10, 1971, in Anadarko, Oklahoma, and his original athletic dream actually had very little to do with baseball. Growing up in Oklahoma, he dreamed of playing football for the Oklahoma Sooners. He was an All-State tight end at Eisenhower High School and had an opportunity to play football at Oklahoma.
But his parents steered him toward baseball.
Looking back, Huskey was certainly grateful they did.
“When I came out of high school I played football and I had an opportunity to go play,” he told me during our Meet the Mets interview. “My parents decided it made me decide that I was going to go play baseball. And I'm glad they did and I'm grateful that they steered me in the direction of baseball.”
The Mets selected Huskey in the seventh round of the 1989 draft, beginning a journey that would eventually take him from the minor leagues to Shea Stadium.
And it was quite a journey.
Huskey won the Mets' Doubleday Award as the organization's outstanding minor league player four times, establishing himself as one of the organization's most promising young hitters. He finally reached the majors in 1993 and remained in the Mets' organization until the end of the 1998 season.
He would eventually play for Seattle, Boston, Minnesota and Colorado as well, finishing his major league career with a .267 batting average, 86 home runs and 336 RBIs.
But for Mets fans, Butch Huskey will always be associated with one particular number.
Huskey wore No. 42 with the Mets from 1995 through 1998, making him one of the final players in baseball to wear Jackie Robinson's number after Major League Baseball retired it throughout the sport.
That number wasn't lost on Butch.
In fact, when I asked him about the most memorable moment of his Mets career, he immediately went to the ceremony honoring Robinson at Shea Stadium.
“The celebration of Jackie Robinson when the president was there and Mrs. Rachel Robinson was there,” Butch recalled. “The whole atmosphere about retiring the number 42. That was a great game to be involved in.”
He remembered more than the ceremony itself.
He remembered something he had kept from that day.
“I still have the jersey hanging on the wall today that she signed for me.”
Rachel Robinson.
The significance of that jersey—and of the number Butch wore—was obvious when I asked him another question during our conversation: If he could have dinner with one person, living or dead, who would it be?
His answer came quickly.
“Definitely most definitely be Jackie Robinson.”
And his explanation was even more revealing.
“He had an unbelievable temperament to be able to do what he did back in those days,” Butch said. “Just to be able to talk to him and ask him and see about everything that he went through just to play the game of baseball.”
Then he added:
“You know, we look at it just to play the game of baseball, but he paved the way for a lot of people.”
That was Butch.
He understood that wearing 42 wasn't just about having a number on the back of his uniform.
It connected him to something much bigger.
Of course, Butch Huskey also left Mets fans with plenty of baseball memories of his own.
His best season came in 1997, when he hit .287 with 24 home runs, 26 doubles and 81 RBIs. He also put together a 20-game hitting streak.
But perhaps the most memorable swing of his Mets career came in Philadelphia.
On September 15, 1997, Huskey launched a home run into the upper reaches of Veterans Stadium, reaching the 600 level. At the time, he became only the third player to hit a ball into that section of the stadium.
When I asked him about the most memorable games of his career , he actually gave me two answers.
“One was in Shea when I hit my first home run off Hideo Nomo,” he said. “And the other was the five RBIs in one inning in Miami. That was a pretty fun time for me.”
Notice something about that answer.
He didn't mention the 600-level home run.
He didn't mention the numbers from his best season.
He went to moments.
That seemed to be how Butch remembered baseball—not simply by statistics, but by the experiences and the people who were part of them.
That is also what made my relationship with him special.
Mets Fantasy Camp is a funny place. You arrive surrounded by players whose names you grew up watching on television, and initially, there's that natural tendency to think of them as the players.
Then you spend a week with them.
You talk.
You laugh.
You tell stories.
You play baseball.
And eventually, the uniform disappears.
You get to know the person.
That happened with Butch.
He was big physically, but there was nothing oversized about his personality. He was easygoing, approachable and genuinely enjoyable to be around.
That came through when he joined me on my radio show, and it certainly came through again when we recorded Meet the Mets.
During that interview, I asked him about his favorite road stadium or city.
His answer was remarkably humble.
“With where I came from and my upbringing, I think they were all great,” he said. “Just to be at that level and play at that level where so many kids where I grew up never had the opportunity to even see a place like that.”
He wasn't interested in ranking ballparks.
He was grateful that he had gotten to play in them.
That perspective was one of the things I always appreciated about him.
Our conversations also gave me a chance to see the guy behind the baseball card.
He told me that he listened to a lot of country music and admitted, proudly, “I am a Garth Brooks fan.”
His pregame ritual was simple: sit in his locker and listen to music.
And then there was the food.
“When you're in New York there's some good sub sandwiches floating around New York,” he said. “So I [had] a few subs before the game.”
That's Butch Huskey.
Country music.
Garth Brooks.
New York subs.
Baseball.
And some pretty good clubhouse stories.
When I asked him about the best practical joke he had ever seen, he remembered one involving a teammate, John Franco and a butchered hog's head that was placed in a bedroom with the heater turned up.
“That was pretty funny,” Butch said.
Then there was his answer when I asked him which pitcher he would go back in time to face.
Nolan Ryan.
“I would have loved to have been able to challenge him or get in the box and face him,” Butch said.
But he was also realistic.
“He probably would have gave me an 0-for-4.”
That was another thing about Butch.
He could talk about facing Nolan Ryan without pretending he would have crushed him.
Butch loved baseball, and he loved the things that surrounded it.
When I asked him about his favorite baseball movie, he couldn't choose just one.
He mentioned The Sandlot and The Natural.
“I love The Natural. That was one of my favorite baseball movies,” he said. “*The Sandlot and all those movies, they're all good movies.”
And then he added something that sounded very much like Butch:
“Anything to help baseball, especially right now, we need it all.”
He understood that baseball was bigger than the people who played it.
It was the memories.
The movies.
The stories.
The ballparks.
The teammates.
The fans.
The connections.
And sometimes, it was simply sitting around talking about baseball with someone you had gotten to know over the years.
There is one moment from our Meet the Mets interview that makes me smile now.
I had started the feature by telling Butch that he was the fifth guest on the program. I also explained that I had challenged each of the previous four guests to sing as much of the “Meet the Mets” song as they could.
None had done particularly well.
So I gave Butch his chance.
“All I know is ‘Meet the Mets,’” he admitted.
I tried to coax more out of him.
“Meet the Mets,” he repeated.
And that was pretty much it.
I told him he was now five-for-five.
Five former Mets.
Five people who knew exactly one line of the Mets' fight song.
Butch laughed.
And that's how I want to remember him.
Sitting across from me, telling stories, laughing, talking about baseball and being completely comfortable enough to admit that he didn't know the rest of the song.
That's the privilege of getting to know someone beyond the statistics.
Butch Huskey gave baseball plenty during his playing career, and he gave those of us who knew him something even more valuable afterward: his time, his stories and his friendship.
For me, that is what I will carry forward.
Rest in peace, Butch.
I'll always be grateful that baseball gave me the chance to know you.
Here are the full interviews :
Rest in peace!