Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing #70: Derek Bell and the Yacht That Docked in Flushing

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly wander through the Mets attic, where last week we bumped into Rick Anderson, a man who waited nearly a decade for his shot… and made the most of every second once the door finally cracked open.

This week, we stay in that same neighborhood of “brief but memorable,” but instead of quiet persistence, we turn to something a little louder… a little flashier… and, because this is Mets history, just a little bit stranger.

Meet Derek Bell.

Now if Rick Anderson’s story was about patience, Derek Bell’s story is about presence. You always knew when Bell was around. Sometimes because of the bat. Sometimes because of the personality. And sometimes because, well… there was a yacht involved.

Bell arrived in Queens before the 2000 season as part of the deal that brought Mike Hampton to the Mets. At the time, he wasn’t just a throw-in—he was a proven big-league hitter, a key member of Houston’s “Killer B’s,” and a guy who could hit, run, and stir things up both on and off the field.

And right from the start, Bell made it clear New York wasn’t going to change who he was.

This was a player who had been talking, smiling, and playing the game with a certain swagger since his Little League days in Tampa. The kind of player who didn’t just play baseball—he performed it. Some loved it. Some didn’t. Bell didn’t seem particularly concerned either way.

When he got to the Mets, he hit. A .266 average, solid production, and a steady presence in right field for a team that clawed its way into the postseason. This wasn’t a cameo. This was a real contributor on a playoff team.

But if you ask most fans what they remember about Derek Bell’s time with the Mets, odds are the conversation drifts somewhere else entirely.

Out past the outfield fence.

Floating, actually.

Because Derek Bell didn’t just come to New York to play baseball. He came to live on a yacht.

Yes, an actual yacht.

Named "Bell 14", because subtlety has never been overrated in baseball.

While most players were dealing with New York traffic, apartment hunting, and figuring out how to parallel park without losing a side mirror, Bell was docking his boat and heading to the ballpark like some kind of baseball-playing sea captain.

It was peak Derek Bell. Practical in his own way, a little over-the-top, and completely unforgettable.

Teammates would talk of Bell’s wardrobe as something out of a traveling fashion show—bright suits, custom fits, matching shoes—worn once and then given away like party favors. The man didn’t just dress for the game, he dressed like the game was being broadcast in Technicolor.

And through it all, he remained… Derek Bell.

Outspoken. Confident. Occasionally misunderstood. But never, ever boring.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rttg2oDiDoU

On the field, his 2000 season helped the Mets reach the World Series. Off the field, he became one of those figures you couldn’t quite categorize. Part ballplayer, part personality, part story waiting to be retold years later when someone says, “Wait… was he really living on a boat?”

Yes. Yes, he was.

Bell’s time in Flushing lasted just that one season. By the end of 2000, the Mets moved on, and Bell headed to Pittsburgh, where things took a turn from colorful… to downright bizarre.

There, his performance dipped, the hits didn’t fall, and then came the moment that would follow him forever: “Operation Shutdown.” A spring training declaration that he wasn’t about to compete for a job, which in baseball is roughly the equivalent of telling a restaurant you don’t believe in eating.

It didn’t go over well.

He walked away, the Pirates still paying him millions, and just like that, a once dynamic big-league career drifted off course. At one point, he even joked about heading back to his yacht and sailing off into the sunset—which, knowing Derek Bell, didn’t sound entirely like a joke.

In the years that followed, there were some off-field troubles, including a few arrests that painted a more complicated picture of the man who once seemed larger than life. Like a lot of players, the game ended, but the spotlight didn’t fully go away—and sometimes that’s when things get toughest.

And yet, that one season in Queens remains its own snapshot.

A talented hitter. A playoff contributor. A personality you couldn’t ignore. And yes… a guy living on a yacht in the middle of a pennant race.

Rick Anderson showed us how long the road can be just to arrive.

Derek Bell reminded us how unpredictable the ride can be once you get there.

And somewhere between the two is the full, strange, unforgettable spectrum of Mets history.

Jump into the comments and let’s talk about it. Do you remember Derek Bell’s season in 2000? And more importantly… where does “living on a yacht during your Mets career” rank on the all-time list of baseball oddities?

As always, keep the conversation going over on the KinersKorner.com Facebook group… where the attic door is always open, and there’s always another story waiting to be found.