What an odd game; after all the great pitching and offensive droughts we’ve had this season to go out and score at will when outs are the treasured commodity was just bizarre. I guess that’s LA.

I may be one of the few Mets fans that actually enjoys these west coast swings. I work odd hours and usually watch the Mets game after it’s conclusion via the MLB archive; carefully avoiding learning the score (you would think that would be hard, as I listen to sports radio, but unless you are adverse to learning the up to the minute groin condition of the Cowboys third string defensive end, you are pretty safe in Dallas.

This week I’ve been able to return to watching live games and wanted to enjoy watching the game with fellow Mets fans. The closest I could come was the chat board over at Mets Geek. Along with reading commentary on the game in progress, I learned that Mark McGuire’s wife is a total piece of ass (thanks TLC). And there is still some angst toward former Met Jeff Kent.

I met Jeff Kent, and I have to say, Jeff was a really nice guy. Back in the spring of 1994 the Texas Rangers opened the Ball Park in Arlington. As you might imagine, the first two exhibition games, played in the new stadium were quite the hot ticket as many wanted a first hand look at the new park. The exhibition games were a hot ticket in my mind due to the opponent; the New York Mets.

I arrived for batting practice clad in Mets hat and Mets jersey eager to get close to the team, I’d only seen in person once in Houston since moving from New Jersey mid-86 season. I had acquired Brett Saberhagen’s autograph along with Eric Hillman. Quite satisfied with the signatures I had procured on my baseball, I was content to watch the Mets finish warm-ups standing next to the visitor’s dugout. Not expecting any more autographs, I was mystified just standing a few yards from a team I usually was only able to watch a few games a year on TV when they played the Cubs (WGN) and Braves (TBS).

As I stood watching, a certain second baseman was trotting in toward the dugout, head down, likely focusing on the day’s game as most players do. Suddenly he broke his stare into nothingness seeming to notice a young Met fan standing with a baseball in his hand, flashed a smile and changed course towards me with a hand in the air signaling for me to toss him my ball. I gladly lobbed him my ball which he caught then motioned for me to toss my pen as well. As I tossed the pen, he covered his face and body hastily as several other baseballs descended upon him from other fans. Kent signed my baseball, accepted my thanks and shook my hand then proceeded to pick up the stray balls, sign them and attempt, as best he could, to return them to their rightful owners.

I realize that Kent has the reputation as a real jerk, but my only interaction with him remains a fond memory of a day I was treated to meeting the Mets in the brand new Ballpark in Arlington.

Maybe he had an off-day; maybe I just have good luck. I met Dave Kingman once at a mall in Arlington. We had showed up for a scheduled appearance (Maury Wills was later in the day) with Dave Kingman baseball cards of years Kong was a Met. I had been in awe of Kong growing up. I remember going to see several A’s Rangers games and not getting very excited to see some guys named Canseco and McGuire, but sitting on the edge of my seat when Kingman came to the plate in hopes of seeing a tape measure blast I had grown up hearing about from my dad. Though my brother and I (who hates baseball) had only purchased two tickets, Kingman spent a good amount of time, conversing with us and offering to sign every Mets item we had and even taking the time to come out from around the table and pose for a picture.

Just earning money from a paid appearance? Sure but that’s a heck of a lot more than I received when I attended a card show and forked over $25 to be ignored by a certain hall of Fame Pitcher who refused to make eye contact with any fan even attempting to speak to the 1969 World Champion.

That’s right; Tom Seaver is kind of a jerk. We had paid for the autograph ticket along with a $5 dollar glossy of Seaver from his second tour of duty with the Mets but instead choose to get a 8×10 print my father had saved from a Met promotion from 1969. Seaver ignored any and all comments from the few fans and autograph collectors that showed (remember. it’s Texas), choosing instead to converse with some handler at his side, almost defiantly avoiding even having to look at us “commoners” and seemingly perturbed at even having to sign his name for a nominal fee.

To this day, every time I see Seaver at a Met event, no doubt being paid for his time, I always think, “how come Tom doesn’t love us back?”

Should I just stop my griping and be grateful to the man directly responsible for securing 50% of my beloved franchise’s World Series Title’s? Maybe, I just thought I would share some slightly less conventional experience to offer an alternate viewpoint of some Mets of old that may have gotten a slightly exaggerated bad rap.

Have a heart, Jeff Kent isn’t all that bad all the time.