August 12, 1988. Expos 5, Mets 2 (12). This was Gary Carter’s first game back at Shea after he finally hit his 300th career homer. The Kid went about 8 jillion at-bats between dingers number 299 and 300, so it was more relief than celebration when he finally marked the milestone.

He was my favorite player when I was a kid. I’ve always had a soft spot for catchers, playing as they do the most injury-prone and thankless position in the game. He was a milk drinker on a team full of coke heads and hard party-ers. But despite his cheery demeanor, he was also an extremely hard nosed player, and his bat and leadership was one of the biggest reasons why the Mets won it all in 1986. (See: game 6, where he got the two-out single in the bottom of the tenth that got the ridiculous rally started.)

This game came at the end of a very long day in which me, my brothers, and my cousin acted like pure, unadulterated dicks. Any time the four of us got together was an occasion for chicanery of all kinds, usually involving the destruction of other people’s property. But even by the low standards to which our collective behavior was held, this day still stands out in my mother’s memory as one of our worst days ever.

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