When I graduated from San Diego State in ‘86, I drove my ‘67 Mustang fastback cross-country. My younger brother went with me as far as Dayton, then I pressed on to visit Trageser World Headquarters in Baltimore (they had like 3/4 of a page of Tragesers in the white pages, compared to a single entry in Dayton), and finally to Mineola on Long Island, where I stayed at Chaminade H.S. with my great Uncle Joe Trageser (who had taught at Cincinnati Moeller and Dayton Chaminade for many years before retiring to the Marian community at Mineola). While I was there, my Cincinnati Reds were also in town to play the Mets, and Uncle Joe got us tickets and a ride to Shea Stadium.
We settled into our left-field bleacher seats, me with my ever-present Reds cap on. (A Shea denizen some rows behind us yelled, “Motherf——er, better take that Reds cap off before I come shove it up your ass!” My uncle, wearing his Roman collar that religious brothers also wear, stood up, and said, “Sir! Your language!” The Mets fan was only slightly abashed, saying, “Sorry, Father - I didn’t see you there. Could please encourage that young man to take off his Reds hat before he pushes me into an act of sin?” Uncle Joe turned to me and said, “Take the cap off, Jimmy.” I tucked it inside my shirt.)
Pete Rose was back as player-manager for the Reds at first base, Tony Perez had rejoined the Reds as a part-time player to finish out his glorious career, and Davey Concepcion was still at short. Plus Dave Parker had joined the Reds a few years earlier, and a couple of youngsters by the names of Eric Davis and Kal Daniels - who would help the Reds beat the A’s in a classic World Series sweep four years later - had made the team. (The Mets had some star power of their own, with Darryl Strawberry and former Red George Foster roaming their outfield.)
But Uncle Joe didn’t care about any of those legendary or future stars.
Instead, when Buddy Bell came up to bat the first time, with men on base, Uncle Joe got very excited and told me and the younger religious brother who’d driven us, “Oh, I taught Buddy Bell math at Moeller! He’s a good Catholic boy. He’s going to get a big hit for us here!” I don’t remember the details - strikeout, ground out, fly out - but it was an out.
“That’s okay, Buddy!” Uncle Joe yelled. “You’ll get ‘em next time!”
A few innings later, Bell again came up to bat with men on base. Uncle Joe was very excited as he told everyone around us how he taught Buddy math in high school back in Cincinnati. “A good local boy!” (although not, of course, to New York.) He then turned his attention to the field: “C’mon, Buddy, you can do it!”
Another out, and now Uncle Joe is somewhat quieter, and doesn’t say much.
When Buddy came up a third time, again with a chance to drive in a go-ahead run, Uncle Joe said loud enough for all of us around him to hear, “Ah, he’s a bum! He’s just going to make another out!”
Buddy promptly got a knock and put the Reds up - they’d hang on to win - and Uncle Joe jumped up and down, high-fiving - or attempting to high-five - some very confused and sad Mets fans around us. “I TOLD you Buddy would get us a hit!” he yelled at me.
As we were leaving our seats after the game, the guy who’d been yelling at me to take my Reds cap off stopped for a second, slapped me on the back and said, “Good game today!”
New Yorkers ...
Now, according to the Baseball Almanac, the summer of 1986 had the Reds visiting Shea once, July 7-9. The first two games were both one-run affairs, and Bell went 1 for 4 with at least 1 RBI in both games. I remember it was still light when the game was over, so it was likely the Sunday afternoon game.
My one and only time at Shea Stadium ...
-30-
Buddy Bell was the reason I switched from CF to third in rec league during that same era. I probably listened to that game on WLW