Welcome to the tenth installment of Mets Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, where we take a trip down memory lane to revisit the orange-and-blue-clad players who time—and often Mets fans—seem to have forgotten. Every week, we’ll rummage through baseball cards (or crumbling programs that smelled like hot dogs) to shine a light on the Mets who didn’t make headlines but still found a way to be part of the team’s unpredictable and unforgettable history at Shea, Citi, the Polo Grounds, and beyond.
Last week, we examined the journey of Joe Christopher, one of the original 1962 Mets. Before there were Cleon Jones and Tommie Agee, before Darryl Strawberry and Brandon Nimmo, Christopher was out there in the early days, hustling in the outfield and wielding a bat for a team that was more lovable than it was successful. Often overlooked in the franchise’s history, his contributions—and his journey to the Mets—deserved another look.
This week, we turn our attention to a name more commonly associated with the Minnesota Twins but who got his start in Queens: Ron Gardenhire. While his time with the Mets was brief, Gardenhire's journey from a scrappy infielder in Flushing to a respected big-league manager is one worth revisiting. His time with the Mets in the early 1980s may not have been filled with accolades, but it was the beginning of a baseball mind that would go on to impact the game for decades.
So grab a seat, sharpen your pencils, and let’s get to work!
Ron Gardenhire’s baseball résumé stretches far beyond his 14-year stint as a big-league manager. Before he was running dugouts and giving umpires premature gray hair, "Gardy" was grinding it out as a player. He spent nine seasons in the Mets’ system, primarily as a shortstop, and logged 285 games in the big leagues between 1981 and 1985. Not exactly Hall of Fame numbers, but hey, he made it—something plenty of guys with shinier scouting reports never did.
Gardenhire grew up in small-town Okmulgee, Oklahoma, where his love for the game was nurtured through baseball cards, Saturday afternoons in front of the TV, and a transistor radio sneaked into class at just the wrong moment. The man bled baseball from an early age. As a kid, he cheered for Oklahoma greats like Mickey Mantle, Johnny Bench, and Bobby Murcer. Thanks to his dad’s military service, there was also a stint in California, where he was introduced to the Dodgers and Don Drysdale. But no matter where he was, one thing remained constant—baseball was king.
Saturdays meant the Game of the Week, often featuring the Cardinals, Yankees, or Dodgers. And when the 1968 World Series rolled around, young Gardenhire had his radio dialed in at school—until his teacher put an end to that fun. "Turn it off, Ronald." Busted.
His older brother, a lefty pitcher, was an Al Kaline and Mickey Lolich guy. Gardenhire? He hoarded Yankees cards and any player with Oklahoma roots. Like most kids back then, he and his friends flipped cards, played games with them, and stuck them in their bike spokes to make that classic motorcycle sound. Little did he know that years later, he’d actually share a locker room with some of the guys on those cards.
When Gardenhire finally made it to the bigs, he found himself playing alongside larger-than-life characters like Dave Kingman and Rusty Staub. Kingman, known for his skyscraper home runs and generally surly demeanor, took care of him. Rusty? He became a mentor. "I ran around with Rusty, went out to eat with him all the time. We had a running Hearts game going. Here I was, a kid in the big leagues, sitting with guys I used to watch on TV."
Kingman also provided one of the best “rookie gets rescued” stories. When Gardenhire’s cousins dropped him off at Dodger Stadium for his first visit, security wasn’t exactly convinced this baby-faced shortstop belonged. Then Kingman pulled up. "This is the shortstop for the New York Mets. Open the gate and let him in," he barked. The guards complied, and Gardenhire’s cousins could barely believe what they were seeing.
And speaking of Kingman, you did not—under any circumstances—leave your seat when he was at bat. "The guy hit them as far as anyone I ever saw. Just monster home runs. His bat looked like it was 18 feet long."
Rusty, meanwhile, was the quintessential veteran presence. By the time Gardenhire arrived, Staub was mostly a pinch-hitter and occasional first baseman—emphasis on "occasional." "I’d be playing shortstop, and if a ground ball was hit to me, Rusty would yell, ‘Give me time to get there!’ He didn’t move too well, but man, he could hit. One of the best I’ve ever seen. He studied the game like nobody else."
One of Gardenhire’s favorite Rusty stories came in 1984, when Staub, approaching 40, started launching home runs in batting practice—something he never did. The team asked what was up. "I want to hit a home run after I turn 40," he declared. Sure enough, first game after his birthday, boom—home run. "Are you kidding me?" Gardenhire thought. Rusty was a man of his word.
As for Gardenhire’s own career highlights? Well, he got his first big-league hit off Hall of Famer Bruce Sutter. "I’d love to say it was a rocket line drive, but it was a 93-hopper right through his legs." He also took Steve Carlton deep for one of his few home runs. "For a guy like me, that’s a pretty good memory."
He played alongside Mets legends—Keith Hernandez, Gary Carter, Lee Mazzilli, Dwight Gooden, Darryl Strawberry. And his first manager? Just some guy named Joe Torre. "Joe was great. He was like a father figure. If you messed up, he’d just say, ‘Put that in your memory bank. Don’t let it happen again.’ Simple, but effective."
And then there was Pete Rose. The Hit King once flattened Gardenhire at second base, then gave him the nickname "Wills," after speedster Maury Wills. "I pinch-ran for Rusty all the time, so Pete started calling me Wills. I’ve got pictures of him flipping me on a play, and he even signed one, ‘Good luck, Wills.’ Pretty cool."
Ron spent five seasons with the New York Mets from 1981 to 1985, primarily playing shortstop but also seeing time at second and third base. Over 285 games, he recorded 165 hits, 27 doubles, 3 triples, and 4 home runs while driving in 49 runs and stealing 13 bases. His best season came in 1981 when he batted .271 with a .340 on-base percentage.
Defensively, he was versatile, logging over 1,800 innings at multiple infield positions. His strongest defensive year was 1982 when he played 135 games at shortstop and posted a .956 fielding percentage.
Among his career highlights, he hit a dramatic walk-off home run on September 21, 1982, against the Montreal Expos' Bryn Smith.
Despite his offensive struggles at times, he had notable success against certain pitchers, hitting over .500 against several, including Don Sutton, Dave Stewart, and Mike Scott. His ability to contribute defensively and provide occasional pop at the plate made him a valuable utility player for the Mets during the early 1980s.
Though he wasn’t a star in Queens, his time with the Mets shaped the aggressive, no-nonsense style he’d bring to the dugout later. Playing under hard-nosed managers and alongside veterans who valued fundamentals, Gardenhire developed the baseball instincts and leadership skills that would serve him well in his next chapter. So when he took over for the legendary Tom Kelly in Minnesota, it was no surprise that Gardy had no problem mixing old-school fundamentals with a little old-fashioned arguing—sometimes more with the men in blue than his own players.
But beneath the fire and brimstone was a manager who knew how to get the best out of his team, a quality that would define his years in the Twin Cities. In his first season in 2002, he led the Twins to a division title and an appearance in the ALCS, immediately establishing himself as a winning skipper. Over his 13-year tenure in Minnesota, Gardenhire’s Twins captured six AL Central crowns, and while October success proved elusive—his teams went just 6-21 in the postseason—he became one of the most respected managers in the game. In 2010, he was finally recognized with the American League Manager of the Year Award after guiding the Twins to a 94-win season.
By the time his run in Minnesota ended in 2014, Gardenhire had racked up 1,068 wins, making him one of only 60 managers in Major League history to surpass the 1,000-win mark. His fiery demeanor, combined with an ability to keep a clubhouse loose, earned him the admiration of his players and a reputation as one of baseball’s most entertaining—and occasionally ejected—managers.
Gardenhire may not have been a superstar, but he carved out a career in the game he loved. He got to play, coach, and manage at the highest level. Not bad for a kid from Okmulgee who once got busted for listening to the World Series in class.
As we wrap up this week’s installment of Mets Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, we’ve learned that while Ron Gardenhire may not have left a long-lasting legacy as a player for the Mets, his impact on the game as a manager is undeniable. His journey from Flushing to Minneapolis and beyond serves as a testament to the power of perseverance and passion for the game.
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