by Brad Gerber

Created on: May 07, 2009

OH my, what was it like to be a child of the sixties? The civil rights movement, Vietnam, the first American in space, Woodstock, assassinations, and the Beatles landing in America were just a few events that shaped a turbulent decade. Growing up in Brooklyn, NY during this time was exciting and often inspirational to say the least. With that being said, the one event that had the biggest impact on my life occurred in 1962 with the creation of the New York Mets.

I grew up in a house where baseball was a non event as my Dad was one of many New Yorkers that felt personally insulted when his beloved New York Giants moved to sunny California. He vowed to never attend another game or follow the sport from that day on. I can say he was true to his word as I never saw him watch a game on TV, never went to game with him, and baseball was not discussed in our home. Before you start to feel bad for me, don't, as I had some great times with my Dad over my entire childhood as he opened up a world of outdoor sports to me. Surf casting off the beaches of New York and hunting and camping in the woods upstate were amazing adventures and I cherish the memories of those days.

I became a Mets fan in 1966 thanks in part to Grandpa Lou, my maternal grandfather. He took me to a Yankee doubleheader that summer and the Yankees, well past their glory days, lost both games. On that Sunday, the Mets, the doormat of the National League, won their game. I sat with my Dad at the dinner table the next day and he actually asked me how the game was. I told him "the Yankees stink" and although I thought Mickey Mantle was the greatest player of all time, I could never root for them. He smiled and told me that there was another team in New York to root for and I guess his one time interest in the sport that I loved to play and watch swayed me to the National League and the Mets. Anyone that knows anything about baseball in the 1960s knows that I suffered for the next two years. The Mets were pretty bad and the abuse I had to take in the schoolyard each day was humiliating. Little did I know that the pendulum was about to swing in the other direction and that miracles were possible.

Fast forward to 1969 and good things are starting to happen in Flushing. The pitching staff is starting to look formidable with Seaver, Koosman, Gentry and Ryan leading the way. Tug McGraw, Don Cardwell, Ron Taylor, and Cal Koonce anchored a strong bullpen and the rest of the roster was evenly mixed

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