Buddy: The Long-Haul Shortstop

By Mark Herrmann | Staff Writer

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BUD HARRELSON earned the right to be called the quintessential Met. And when he was around, a quintessential Met had the right to take the title as a compliment.

He was in the middle of the magic in 1969. When the scrappy Mets made it from last place to the World Series in the last two months of the 1973 season, he had the most famous scrap. He is part of the memorable scene in 1986, bounding down the line from the third base coach's box as Ray Knight scored on Bill Buckner's error.

Harrelson was a shortstop, coach, minor-league manager, major-league manager, broadcaster, scout and community-relations specialist for the Mets. He was the California kid who arrived in 1965 and ultimately became a full-time Long Islander. People in New York thought of him as their buddy.

``I think a lot of it has to do with New York history, and falling in love with someone like Phil Rizzuto -- the little guy,'' Harrelson said. ``Early in the history of the New York Mets, here comes this little guy, diving, dancing, running, stealing and trying hard. I was their little guy.''

He always seemed bigger than his statistics:- 5-11, 147 pounds, .236 lifetime batting average. Harrelson was in fact an All-Star twice, and he started the 1970 game. He won a Gold Glove. He was the club's Opening Day shortstop for 11 straight years -- a run longer than any other Met at any position. Frank Cashen, the general manager who hired and fired him as manager in the early 1990s, once said that, if Tom Seaver was the heart of the Mets, Harrelson was the soul.

There wasn't much more than soul, skin and bones to him when new manager Gil Hodges watched the weigh-in in 1968. ``I gritted my teeth, saying `Oh no, he doesn't know me, what's he going to say,''' Harrelson said. ``He just told me, `You are by far the strongest player I've ever seen at 147 pounds.' That's pretty much the way he treated me through my whole career of playing for him.''

It turned out that Harrelson was strong enough to help carry the Mets to unbelievable heights in 1969. The Mets had been more than just a ninth-place club before that. They were a symbol of hopeless - albeit lovable - mediocrity. When they won the division, the pennant and the World Series, they seemed to realign the planets (to paraphrase ``Aquarius,'' a popular song that year). ``When you win, you know it's good. It's just that you're thinking you're going to have more years. Maybe something better is going to happen,'' Harrelson said. ``But in retrospect, how could anything be better than that?''

Those Mets just had one more good year, and that only comprised a couple of good months. They rose from last place on Aug. 5 in 1973 to the World Series. Harrelson left an unmistakable image in Game 3 of the National League Championship Series when he fought Pete Rose after a play at second base. ``I always say I hit his fist with my eye,'' Harrelson said. ``I did a card show with him last year and he gave me a picture. He wrote on it, `Thanks for making me famous.'''

Loyalty meant more than fame to Harrelson. When the Mets gave him a job, he did it. His one lapse in popularity occurred in 1991, when fans booed him as the manager. He was fired a week before the end of the season. Still, his .529 winning percentage is second best among all Mets managers - better than Hodges (.523), better than anyone except Davey Johnson (.588).

And still, he wants to manage. He holds that role, as well as that of part-owner, for the Long Island Ducks, an independent minor-league team expected to debut this season. ``I told everyone I'm not going to manage long. I want to get it going, get it started. Then I'll fire myself and take my kids to the games,'' he said. ``I want to make an imprint on an area I've lived in for 29 years.''

Harrelson moved into his first house in East Northport on Opening Day, 1969. He now lives in Hauppauge with his wife Kim, teenaged daughters Alexandra and Kassandra and son T.J. He runs several baseball camps and he volunteers for Make-A-Wish, the Suffolk Police Athletic League and just about any organization that calls.

``I wanted to stay out here. When I was renting, I talked to [Ron] Swoboda. He lived in Syosset. I looked there, but I asked the realtor, `Do you have anything cheaper?''' Harrelson said. ``People asked me how I settled in Suffolk County and I tell them I hit .236. If I had hit .250, I'd have been living in Nassau. If I'd have hit .300, I'd be a neighbor of Seaver in Greenwich, Connecticut.

``But I love the communities here,'' he said. ``I'm not from New York, but I always say I grew up in New York.''