Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing #35 : The Summer of Pepe: Mangual's Fast Feet and Fading Fame

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we brush aside the moth-eaten jerseys and dog-eared scorecards to rediscover the players who made you say, “Oh yeah… that guy!”

Last week, we dipped into the early 1960s and unearthed Tim Harkness, a Canadian first baseman who survived winter ball in Castro’s Cuba, delivered a walk-off grand slam at the Polo Grounds, and earned his way into Mets lore with one swing.

This week, we’re jumping ahead to the polyester-and-pinstripes 1970s to revisit a player who arrived with promise, left with little fanfare, and remains a true trivia question in Mets history: Pepe Mangual.

Born in Puerto Rico in 1952, Mangual had the kind of speed and leadoff skills that teams drooled over in the 1970s. With the Montreal Expos, he showed flashes of being that classic sparkplug center fielder — the type who could swipe 30 bases, get on base, and maybe even channel a little Lou Brock energy.

By 1975, he looked like a rising star. He played all 162 games for Montreal that season, stole 33 bases, and even earned down-ballot MVP votes. The Expos thought they had something. The Mets thought they had the next great leadoff man.

On July 21, 1976, the Mets made a deal with Montreal that looked like a classic fresh-start move:

• To the Mets: Pepe Mangual (OF), Jim Dwyer (OF)

• To the Expos: Wayne Garrett (3B), Del Unser (OF)

When the Mets sent Wayne Garrett and Del Unser to Montreal the Expos at least got some usable parts. Garrett, the redheaded battler who always looked like he’d just finished shoveling his driveway, gave them 176 games of solid if unspectacular ball, hitting .242 with a .351 on-base percentage. Unser, the ultimate baseball drifter, chipped in 312 games and even had himself a fine 1977 season, with 21 homers and 70 RBIs during his Montreal stay.

Combined, the pair gave the Expos 488 games, 262 hits, and the kind of professional at-bats you can plug into a box score without embarrassment.

The Mets’ haul? Well, that’s where things get a little painful. Jim Dwyer, who would later carve out a perfectly nice niche as a role player elsewhere, barely unpacked in Queens — 35 games, 14 hits, 2 homers, and gone. And Pepe Mangual, the supposed prize of the deal, became a symbol of the Mets’ late-’70s blues: 77 games, 21 hits, a .211 average, and more strikeouts than memories.

Together, Mangual and Dwyer gave the Mets 112 games of barely-there production, the kind of stat line that makes you sigh and mutter, “Well, at least they tried.” And maybe that’s why Pepe Mangual qualifies as a Forgotten Face of Flushing. He arrived with promise, left with boos, and now lingers mostly as a trivia answer — a reminder that in baseball, as in life, sometimes the throw-ins are just… throw-ins.

But even the forgotten ones get their moment in the sun. For Pepe, that moment came on July 24, 1976, in a game that can only be described as part baseball, part track meet, and part comedy sketch.

Pepe, acquired in a trade with Montreal just three days earlier.

And for one glorious night at Jarry Park, the trade worked.

Montreal’s pitchers couldn’t find the plate with a GPS, issuing 14 walks to go along with a smattering of singles, doubles, and fielding follies. Into this carnival of free passes stepped Pepe Mangual, who looked like he was playing stickball back in the Bronx. He ripped three hits, drove in three runs, and — just to add a little irony did it all against his old teammates.

The Mets had traded for speed, but on that night they won on walks — and a hot bat from their new center fielder.

Of course, baseball being baseball, it didn’t last. Mangual never came close to repeating that kind of night in a Mets uniform. But for one evening in the summer of ’76, when America was celebrating its bicentennial and the Mets were trying to celebrate anything, Pepe Mangual was the guy who carried the lineup.

But by mid-1977, Mangual was back in the minors, and by 1979, he was out of baseball. The Mets, meanwhile, drifted into the darkest days of the franchise — the post-Seaver wasteland of empty seats, empty promise, and plenty of players like Mangual who never quite worked out.

Today, if you mention Pepe Mangual in a room full of Mets fans, you’ll probably get a few different reactions: a blank stare from most, or, from the one trivia nerd in the corner, “Didn’t we trade Wayne Garrett for him?” Then maybe a slightly bigger trivia nerd chimes in, “Isn’t he one of only two players named Pepe to ever play in the majors?” Which, of course, invites the fourth, even bigger trivia nerd to swoop in with, “Yeah, and the other one, Pepe Frias, was his teammate on the Expos at one point. How crazy is that?” And then—because no Mets trivia conversation is complete without spiraling into the absurd—someone inevitably mutters, “Don’t forget the third Expo Pepe: Pepe Le Pew." (come on how long have you had Pepe Le Pew in your head ? )

Pepe Mangual will never make a Mets Top 100 list. He won’t have an Old-Timers’ Day bobblehead. He won’t even get the “randomly spotted at Citi Field” treatment. But he does occupy a very specific place in Flushing history: the guy who was supposed to be a future star and instead became a one-season wonder.

And that, in its own way, is why we love the Forgotten Faces of Flushing. Because the Mets aren’t just about Seaver, Piazza, and Wright. They’re also about the Pepes, the guys who make you laugh, shrug, or say, “Only the Mets…”