In the number of years alone, a 40th championship reunion can’t help but be a special occasion, and perhaps more so for the ’86 Mets, as famous for their nocturnal carousing as their ballplaying.
As Darryl Strawberry said with a laugh before Saturday’s ceremony at Citi Field:
“I can’t believe some of us are still alive.”
With that as a fitting backdrop of sorts, it was indeed a feel-good day, from the re-telling of all the old war stories as players gathered early Saturday, to the introductions on the field that officially brought the World Series-winning ballclub together again.
And yet it was impossible to ignore the elephant in the ballpark, if you will, that made the celebration as much of a commentary on the state of the current Mets as a feting of the most recent championship in team history.
For starters, the Citi Field stands were only about half-full as Howie Rose handled the on-field proceedings, as highlights played on the video board from that remarkable season and then players were introduced individually, wearing their ’86-style jerseys, as they took the field.
Forty years is a long time but this was such a legendary team, with countless documentaries made and books written detailing the drama of their on-field heroics and their well-documented off-field drama, that it seemed reasonable to think fans would fill the ballpark in appreciation.
Then again, when the current team is hopelessly out of contention, with Monday’s looming trade deadline all that really matters at the moment, maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise the crowd was relatively sparse.
For that matter, the ’86 Mets weren’t surprised.
“We’re not the show,” Bobby Ojeda said. “It’s great to be celebrated after all these years but fans don’t live in the past. It’s about today’s team. And I don’t blame fans if they don’t want to spend their money on this team.”
Even so, there were rousing ovations as players were introduced in pairs, from Ron Darling and Doc Gooden to Keith Hernandez and Mookie Wilson.
And there were poignant moments as well. The video board showed images of the those connected to the team who have passed away, most notably manager Davey Johnson, who died less than a year ago, in September of 2025.
Then there was Ray Knight, introduced in a wheelchair, rolled onto the field by Howard Johnson. Knight was in some ways the heart and soul of that ’86 team, the one-time Gold Glove boxer who backed down the likes of Dave Parker in brawls during that championship season. Seeing him in a wheelchair brought home the reality of the 40-year timeline.
In that sense, celebrations like this one are meant to be savored.
As Ojeda said, “Forty is a big number. Who knows how many of us will be here for the next one (50 years)?
“But it’s also hard to believe it’s been forty years and we’re still the last team to win. I think for the fans, and even us as players, a celebration like this reminds you about how long it’s been for this franchise, and how bad it is this year.”
Yes, in talking to players before the ceremony, I was struck by how much they were interested in commenting on the current state of the Mets and the 40-year drought, rather than simply re-living their glory days.
“It really bothers the heck out of us,” Wally Backman said. “We’ve all been talking about it: How can it be this long? How can it be this bad?”
In that sense several players sounded like frustrated Mets fans, many of them complaining that the organization, with David Stearns calling the shots, has gone overboard in relying on analytics.
“It’s a long time ago but our team was a great example of how much chemistry mattered,” Backman said. “We were talented but we played with a lot of fight, and we actually did fight a lot against other teams, which really brought us together as a team. It’s more than just putting a team together by what the numbers tell you.”
Strawberry was quick to agree.
“It takes fight to win here in New York,” he said. “We had a team that didn’t always get along, we butted heads at times, but we also fought for each other because deep down, we loved each other.
“It’s different now, as far as fighting on the field, but you still need that attitude. That’s what the Knicks did this year. They played for each other, they took it to the next level, and the city embraced them. It can be so great in New York, but that’s where the human part comes in when you’re building a team. Who’s going to lead? Somebody’s gotta take the responsibility.
“I’m thankful for the Mets giving us a day to celebrate, but I feel like it’s hard not to think about 40 years without a championship. That’s heartbreaking.”
Finally, Ojeda, the former SNY analyst for Mets pre and post-game, said he rarely watches the games these days.
“I try not to even think about it because it’s so frustrating,” he said. “I really think it’s on Stearns. He built this thing and I don’t think he believes in intangibles, which I believe are so important to a winning ballclub. I don’t feel like he’s taken enough accountability either.
“See, you got me talking about this and now I’m sweating because it makes me mad.”
At that point Ojeda laughed and said, “Let me just go and enjoy our day.”
That was really the point of Saturday’s 40th reunion, after all. And as legend has it, nobody knew how to enjoy themselves quite like the ’86 Mets, so no doubt a good time was had by all.
How many of them stayed to watch the ’26 Mets is likely quite another story.
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