Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing #64: We're The Millers, But you can call me Nelson
- Mark Rosenman
- 4 hours ago
- 3 min read
Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly stroll through the Mets attic the place where the yearbooks are a little dusty, the bubble gum cards stick together, and every once in a while you stumble across a name that makes you stop and say, “Wait… I remember that guy.”
Last week we untangled the curious case of the two Bobby Joneses two pitchers, same name, overlapping in the larger orbit of baseball history, and enough confusion to make even a scorecard look like it was filled out during a doubleheader in the fog.
If that felt tricky, this week raises the stakes. Because buried in early Mets history were not one, but two pitchers named Bob Miller. Same name, same uniform, and in one clubhouse, apparently not even the same nickname. Casey Stengel, never one to let clarity get in the way of creativity, called one of them “Nelson” just to keep things organized. Or at least less chaotic.
The first Bob Miller to arrive in Flushing was Robert Gerald Miller, a left handed pitcher from Berwyn, Illinois who came to the majors as a teenager. Signed by the Detroit Tigers as a bonus baby in 1953, he was placed on the big league roster almost immediately and made his debut at just 17 years old. That alone put him among the youngest players in Major League Baseball at the time.
Miller spent his early years with Detroit working primarily out of the bullpen, showing flashes but never quite settling into a consistent role. His development was interrupted by military service, and by the early 1960s he had become a journeyman arm, eventually landing with the Cincinnati Reds before being traded to the Mets in 1962.
With the Mets, Miller worked exclusively in relief during that inaugural season. He finished with a 2 and 2 record and an earned run average over 7.00, numbers that reflected both his own struggles and the growing pains of an expansion club still finding its footing. His final appearance came in September of 1962, closing the book on his brief time in Flushing.
But while his Mets tenure was short, his place in this story was secured for one simple reason. He shared a roster with another pitcher who had the exact same name. That is where Stengel’s “Nelson” nickname came into play, a practical if slightly amusing solution to a problem that modern box scores rarely have to consider.
The other Bob Miller, Robert Lane Miller, had a very different journey to the same clubhouse. Born in St. Louis, he was a standout high school pitcher who signed with the Cardinals as a bonus baby in 1957 and was quickly pushed into the majors. Like his counterpart, he had limited time to develop in the minors and had to learn on the fly at the big league level.
Miller spent several seasons with St. Louis working as both a starter and reliever before being selected by the Mets in the 1961 expansion draft. In 1962, he became one of the most heavily used pitchers on the team, taking on a large workload in both roles for a club that struggled through one of the toughest seasons in modern baseball history.
Among his notable moments that year was starting against Sandy Koufax during Koufax’s no hitter on June 30, a game that added another tough line to an already difficult season. He did manage to record the lone win of his Mets 1962 season in late September, a small bright spot in a year filled with challenges.
After the 1962 season, Miller was traded to the Los Angeles Dodgers, where his career took a different turn. Transitioning more fully into a relief role, he became a steady and reliable arm in the bullpen for a Dodgers team that enjoyed success throughout the 1960s. He contributed to multiple postseason runs and remained a frequently used pitcher for several seasons.
Over time, his career evolved into that of a true journeyman, as he went on to pitch for several other teams across both leagues before eventually wrapping up his playing days in the mid 1970s with the Mets where he would record two more wins. His longevity and adaptability allowed him to remain valuable even as his role changed, and he ultimately built a career defined by persistence and versatility.
In the end, both Bob Millers carved out their own paths in the game, yet their stories intersect in one of those uniquely Mets moments that feels almost too perfect to be accidental. Two pitchers with the same name, on the same roster, with a manager who had to rename one of them just to keep the day moving along.
In a sport full of statistics, schedules, and precision, sometimes it is the simplest details that create the most memorable confusion.
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