G-Fafif

Edgy DC wrote: Yeah, you don't see it, but it's all just a matter of opininon. It's all abstractions until the games are played. What did the Mets do in the 1983-84 offseason? It appeared pretty inactive. They dealt Bob Bailor and Carlos Diaz to the Dodgers for Sid Fernandez and Ross Jones. Their big free agent signees were Rafael Santana, Dick Tidrow, and Jerry Martin. They released Dave Kingman and Mark Bradley. Oh, yeah, they also lost their ace by accident. Judged at the time, it would be seen as far less impactful than this offseason. Yet the restraint was golden and they had a wonderful turnaround. They did crap-all in winter 1968-1969 also. Was that Pat Misch recast in the role of September callup Ron Darling last year?

Benjamin Grimm wrote: I nominate G-Fafif and Mets Guy in Michigan and Johnny Lunchbucket to convene the summit of bloggers. Right now! That bit about not being a blog guy makes this a non-binding call to order.

Meanwhile, what are the Mets doing in the Power Pack?

Not just fireworks, but Pyrotechnics! Nice story they weaved together about "storied" franchises comprising the Hall of Fame pack.

Venezuela's and Flushing's own Edgardo Alfonzo another Peter Greenberg client, at least during the heyday of Fonzie.

Johnny Bench � impressionable seven-year-old = best baseball hero name ever.

The members of the committee, you'll recall, are Al Jackson, Gary Cohen, Howie Rose, Jay Horwitz, Dave Howard, Marty Noble and senior marketing director Tina Mannix, with Jeff Wilpon serving as ex-officio. Who do you think came down on the side of Jane, et al for the Hall, and which owner's son do you suppose vetoed it out of hand?

Even with a crane collapsing around her, Jane sure maintained her sense of self. A friend at the Times let on several years ago, pre-accident, that there are famous people who work closely with the paper on their obituary well in advance of their demise (pending the unforeseen, since no one knows when demise is destined) to make sure posterity portrays them just so. Jane Jarvis, he confided (after I met her), was one of those people.

And here I thought this was an old thread about John Olerud.

Interesting panel discussion on the (relatively) great days and the sad passing of the Expos , five years later. It runs over an hour; I recommend putting it on in the background while you're doing other things (before ballgames once again fill that niche).

I think it's a perfectly fine theme, playing off, as it does, both the reality of the situation (acknowledging a comeback is needed) and the historical equity of Believe. But... 1) The ads themselves are cheap and amateurish, as if shot by high school students for extra credit. 2) When they first started airing them, Carlos Beltran was one of the Believers. I see he's been edited out for the time being. Can't decide whether that's truth in advertising or simply Orwellian.

Mark Herrmann in Newsday does a fine job: Mets organist Jane Jarvis remembered as creative soul Jane Jarvis' story always was a remarkable, lyrical one. She was orphaned at 13 when both of her parents were killed by a train. She was a classically trained musician who was revered by her peers in jazz. She became a music industry executive at a time when women almost never reached that height. But nothing in her life struck a chord with the public more than her sprightly renditions of "Meet the Mets" and "Let's Go Mets" (the latter was her own composition) on the Thomas organ at Shea Stadium. Jarvis, whose death Monday at age 94 was announced Saturday, will remain a mainstay in the hearts of New Yorkers. "I can remember, note for note, the way she played 'Meet the Mets,' " Ron Swoboda, one of the 1969 Miracle Mets, said yesterday. "She had some pretty good jazz chops, but she never overplayed the organ at Shea. What made it special was that you knew it was Jane Jarvis playing that music.'' Swoboda has become a jazz buff since moving to New Orleans. "This is a sad day,'' he said. Longtime Mets fans will never forget the light touch with which she played such tunes as "Felix the Cat" for second baseman Felix Millan and the jazz hit "Scrapple From the Apple" during a manager's argument with umpires. Her blend of innocence, humor and understated sophistication, on top of a baseline of respected musical ability, made Jarvis as big a name as many players from 1964 to 1979. In a 2008 interview with Newsday, she reflected on her era at Shea and said, "It was too wonderful for words." At the time, Jarvis' health was not good, but her spirits were soaring. She had just been allowed back into her East 50th Street apartment after having been displaced for a week by damage from a crane collapse. She said then: "You are talking to one of the happiest people who ever lived . . . Everything I have ever wanted in this life fits in a one-room apartment." As Howie Rose, a childhood Mets fan turned Mets broadcaster said not too long ago: "She had a different lilt to everything she played, including 'The Star-Spangled Banner.' There were certain things unique to that ballpark, and she was one of them." Her belongings included an upright piano, which she played every day. Jarvis spent her final months at the Lillian Booth Actors Home in Englewood, N.J., where her son Brian was with her when she died. Jarvis also is survived by daughter Jeanne Garcia of Florida. "She was the star out there," said Ann Ruckert, a Manhattan-based musician and teacher and longtime close friend of Jarvis. "A few of us would go to the nursing home and have jam sessions with her." Jarvis was a child prodigy with a terrific memory for songs. As a child, she played any tune anyone requested at a department store in Milwaukee. She took refuge in music after her parents were killed. (Jane didn't realize until she saw the obituaries that her father was American Indian, Ruckert said.) She studied at several conservatories, had her own TV show and was offered a gig playing for Braves games. She moved to New York in the early 1960s and took a job with the Muzak recording company. "She started as a receptionist and wound up as senior vice president in charge of all production," Ruckert said. "She kept all the jazz musicians working." They would come to hear her play at Zinno and other clubs in Greenwich Village. She cherished their friendship, and that of Mets fans. "Her whole life," Ruckert said, "was too wonderful for words."

Great card! And great remembrance from Marty Noble here. I'm sure when the Mets get around to issuing an official release expressing their condolences, it will be nice, too.

Thank you, Ms. Jarvis.

Good quiz, particularly in light of all it taking to gain 200 homers in a career was a couple of well-timed shots to the buttocks in the late '90s. First guess was Todd Hundley, but he crossed the finish line with 202.

Al Rosen.

Diamond Jim Gentile.

Oh Henry! Rodriguez...did not hit 40 HRs, so never mind.

Ex-Met Richard Hidalgo.

This thread title put me in mind of the "anatomically correct" Archie Bunker's Grandson Doll, which I can honestly say I have never seen but knew existed. Joey Stivic pictured in all his, uh, glory here. In any event, I have my doubts as to whether Omar is autonomically correct in his assessment.