Robert Lipsyte Reflects on the 1962 Mets: It Was the Worst of Times, It Was the Best of Times.

In the annals of sports history, few teams have sparked as much fascination and intrigue as the 1962 New York Mets. Dubbed the "lovable losers," this ragtag group of players captured the hearts of fans and journalists alike, becoming the subject of countless stories and anecdotes. Among those chronicling the Mets' inaugural season was Robert Lipsyte, a young sports writer tasked with covering the team's spring training for the New York Times.

Lipsyte's journey into the world of Major League Baseball began with a curious twist. In an interview reflecting on his first encounter with the sport, he revealed a childhood marked by radio broadcasts and vivid imaginations fueled by legendary announcers. However, his inaugural visit to a live game left him underwhelmed. "Well, I had mostly been listening to games on a radio late at night, under the blankets, everything like that. And when you listen to Mel Allen and Curt Gowdy, and those guys, Yankee Stadium is like Elysian Fields, it's endless green, it's huge, and I guess my imagination was set on fire. By the time I actually got to the ballpark, my dad took me to the game, I was just a little disappointed that the grass wasn't quite that green and the ballpark wasn't quite as big as my imagination. Also, this was Joe DiMaggio's final year, he was fading and my father, who had, as a kid, seen Babe Ruth, was not too impressed with the Clipper. So, it was not the stunning experience that it is for a lot of other kids." This disconnect from the typical fan experience would prove to be both a strength and a challenge as Lipsyte embarked on his journalistic career.

Somehow, at the age of 24, Lipsyte found himself thrust into the world of sports reporting, assigned to cover the Mets' spring training in 1962. It was a pivotal moment for both Lipsyte and The New York Times, as the publication sought to adopt a more feature-focused approach to its sports coverage. Armed with little prior knowledge of baseball and lacking the emotional attachment many of his peers possessed, Lipsyte approached the assignment with a fresh perspective. "At the time I got to the Mets in 1962, I was not carrying a lot of emotional baggage. It's not a bad thing; I was not really that much of a hardcore sports fan, and I had really no strong background in baseball.

So on the one hand, you know, I would like to give myself the compliment that I was clear-eyed. On the other hand, I really didn't know as much as almost all the other beat writers that were there in 1962. They knew a lot of stuff about baseball, but I didn't."

Reflecting on his early interactions with the Mets, Lipsyte recalled moments of awe and fascination mingled with the harsh realities of professional sports. He found himself drawn to figures like manager Casey Stengel, whose nightly storytelling sessions at the bar provided a unique education in baseball lore.

"I kind of fell in love with Casey Stengel. I really liked him. I thought he was really smart. What was really interesting about Casey Stengel was that if you got to him every night after dinner, he would go to the bar and start drinking. But he would also start telling stories. If you got to the bar right away when he got there and he started this story, then you would know what he was talking about, because afterwards, it sounded like garble. It was a fascinating way of learning baseball. So I think I caught up in that spring training. I mean, I really came as kind of an empty vessel. And you know, once I knew I had the assignment, I read up on baseball like crazy, but it's not like being there. And so listening to Casey Stengel night after night after night at the bar, talking about old-time baseball, talking about the hit and run, talking about everything under the sun was, I thought, a brilliant education," Lipsyte recalled.

A young radio reporter named Howard Cosell also covered the team and was not fond of the way Stengel treated the younger players. Despite his love for Casey, Lipsyte agreed, "No, that really was a flaw of Casey's. Of course, Howard had his own reasons. Some of it rivalry for attention. And I don't think that Casey treated Howard very well. Remember now that this was very early in Howard's career. Howard in those days was some sort of marginalized radio guy, you know, walking around with an enormous tape recorder on his shoulder, which he used to, you know, bang his way into groups around Casey Stengel and other people. But from that aspect, yes, that was absolutely true. I remember one day in spring training, he introduced two young ballplayers. One's name was Dawes Hamilt. I don't remember the other one. Casey went on for some time in front of the press corps about these guys being the future of the Mets, that these two incoming rookies were going to be the spine of a great new team. And we all wrote that and filed that that day, which was the last day we ever saw those two guys or anybody ever saw those two guys, I thought, you know, in retrospect, that was really cruel. Casey got a day's story out of it, but more important, he was kind of sticking it to the writers. But at the expense of these two young guys who were standing up very straight and proud for a moment and then they were gone. So Howard was right about that."

Central to Lipsyte's narrative is the role of the media in shaping public perception of the Mets. Through the lens of writers like Jimmy Breslin and Dick Young, the team's struggles were reframed as a source of entertainment and empathy rather than scorn. "When it turned out the Mets were as bad as everybody thought they were gonna be, then badness became a virtue... someone came up with that word, neggies, the negative statistics... I think that became a kind of thing," Lipsyte reflected.

Amidst the chaos and anticipation of the Mets' debut season, Lipsyte found solace in the stories and personalities that populated the team's roster. One such figure was Jay Hook, a pitcher whose collegiate background intrigued Lipsyte. "I think I was immediately drawn to Jay Hook because I knew that I could talk about his college career and being a college boy. I was kind of the same age as a lot of the ballplayers, the younger ones actually. Some of the older ballplayers, you know, the Frank Thomas and some of the others were a little intimidating. But the younger guys like Hook were hungry and more open to discussion with sports writers... It led to the discussion on Bernoulli's Law and why a curve ball curves, and he actually drew some diagrams of curve balls which we used in the paper. And so that, I felt very comfortable with him. And it made a very good story. And of course, Casey said, 'Yeah, I'm glad he understands how a curve ball curves. Why can't he throw one?'" Lipsyte recalled.

Another memorable character in Lipsyte's Mets saga was Richie Ashburn, whose irreverent sense of humor endeared him to Lipsyte and his fellow reporters. "He was really a terrific guy and kind of one of the real glues on that team. Warm, open-hearted, funny guy. And the only one who didn't take Dick Young seriously... I remember one day we were on a plane going to the spring training game and Dick Young very seriously said to Richie Ashburn, 'You know that we writers are the conscience of baseball.' At which point Richie Ashburn fell out of his seat and lay laughing hysterically in the middle of the aisle of the plane. Won my heart forever," Lipsyte recalled with a chuckle.

In the midst of the eclectic cast of characters that graced the 1962 Mets roster, none quite encapsulated the team's struggles and the intricacies of professional sports like Marvelous Marv Throneberry. Lipsyte recollected Throneberry as "kind of a cranky guy, a bit of a red ass, as we'd say, but he had been a star quarterback in high school, winning a state championship. He tore up the minor leagues and was touted as Mickey Mantle's successor when he reached the big leagues with the Yankees."

Throneberry's trajectory from sensation to subject of ridicule within the Mets ranks was poignant. Lipsyte reflected on Throneberry's inner turmoil: "Here is Marv Throneberry, who's always been a star and he's a joke. And he can't stand it. It's driving him nuts... It was very hurtful to him to be a joke, you know, Marvelous Marv Throneberry." Yet, in a broader sense, this sentiment extended to other players on the team who found themselves labeled as part of a joke franchise, not measuring up to the standards of other major league ballplayers.

In essence, Throneberry's story serves as a microcosm of the larger challenges faced by the Mets and their players during that era.

The team dynamics were intricately tied to individual personalities, as Robert Lipsyte reflected, "Well, I think it was based on, you know, kind of individual." He noted the tendency for older players to form close bonds, given their shared maturity and experiences, while younger players similarly congregated among themselves. However, this division wasn't solely based on age. Lipsyte recounted, "And then there were the black guys and the white guys." Despite all players staying at the Colonial Inn Hotel, racial segregation persisted, with black players notably avoiding the hotel pool due to complaints from other guests. Lipsyte recalled confronting Casey Stengel about this, stating, "I hear that you've told your black ballplayers not to swim in the pool so as not to upset the guests. Is that true?" Stengel's response, as Lipsyte remembered, was blunt: "Yeah. And I told him not to have sex either. Write that in your New York Times." He didn't use the word "have sex." But, everything on the surface, you know, jolly, but of course, there were all these kinds of subtexts, black and white, old and young." This exchange, as Lipsyte noted, revealed the stark contrast between outward camaraderie and underlying racial tensions, underscoring the complex dynamics of the team and the times.

The significance of the writers who covered the Mets during their early years cannot be overstated in crafting the enduring narrative of the lovable losers. As Robert Lipsyte reflects, the likes of Jimmy Breslin, Stan Isaacs, Dick Young, and others were not just legendary writers but also key architects of the Mets' mythos. Lipsyte muses, "Absolutely, Dick Young, in particular, reshaped baseball journalism by delving into the dugout, engaging in gossip, and humanizing the players in his coverage." Lipsyte recalls, "Here is Dick Young, who sees himself as the conscience of baseball and the greatest baseball writer that ever lived." Stan Isaacs brought both warmth and a keen understanding of the game, while the younger writers, dubbed the chipmunks, added their own flair and perspective. Lipsyte reminisces, "Stan Isaacs, who I think was the best of us, a wonderful human being with a real warmth, understood the game very well, I think, as well, but also understood humanity." Larry Merchant and Leonard Schechter also contributed to this distinctive core of writers. Their collective portrayal of the Mets not only captured the essence of the team but also elevated them beyond mere sporting failures.

The timing of the Mets' inception, amid a more innocent era before the tumult of Vietnam and the assassinations, further contributed to the creation of their lovable loser persona. Lipsyte reflects on this, stating, "It was a more innocent time... You know, the shit hadn't hit the fan yet." Playing in the antiquated Polo Grounds, with small crowds and hungry writers eager for baseball's return, set the stage for the Mets' unique narrative. Lipsyte emphasizes, "So the stars were all aligned for the '62 Mets."

As we reflect on the legacy of the lovable losers, we owe a debt of gratitude to Robert Lipsyte and the writers who skillfully crafted their story, ensuring that the Mets would forever hold a special place in the hearts of baseball fans everywhere. Robert Lipsyte also pointed out, "Had that group of writers been in St. Louis, maybe we'd be talking about the St. Louis Browns, the worst team of all. They were a much worse team."

Our deepest gratitude goes to Robert Lipsyte for generously granting the interview that has shaped the essence of this article. Lipsyte, a distinguished sports journalist, has left an indelible mark on the world of sports writing. Born in 1938, his career spanned over five decades, during which he covered a wide array of sports events and personalities. Lipsyte gained recognition for his insightful commentary and ability to humanize athletes, bringing their stories to life for readers worldwide. One of his notable works is "An Accidental Sportswriter: A Memoir," a compelling autobiography that offers a glimpse into his journey from a young sports enthusiast to a seasoned journalist. Through his writing, Lipsyte not only entertained readers but also challenged societal norms and shed light on important issues within the sports industry. His contributions have undoubtedly enriched the field of sports writing and inspired aspiring journalists for generations to come.