Rickey Henderson and the Mets

The Man of Steal Wasn't With the Mets Long, But Had an Impact

When Rickey Henderson's passing was confirmed yesterday, the news and social media reported on all sorts of anecdotes, memories, and statistical analyses.

The Talkin’ Mets podcast doesn’t have much more to add that probably hasn’t already been reported elsewhere. However, we want to add some context to Rickey’s short tenure with the team from 1999-2000.

The 1999 Mets are perhaps my favorite team of all time. That might sound odd to the fans, considering the 1969, 1986, 2000, and 2015 teams went further. Personally, I think that season was fun because it involved all the components of why we love baseball: drama, high-level performance, soap opera storylines, and promises of better days to come. Of course, as is the norm throughout Mets history, the season ended heartbreakingly, leaving everyone wanting for more.

The 853 runs scored by that squad is the most in Mets history. One of the reasons for that offensive performance is Rickey Henderson. The Mets signed him at his age-40 season to leadoff, steal bases, and be the sparkplug for a team that a year earlier lacked it at the top of the lineup. Steve Phillips probably didn’t believe Rickey could play every day, so there was a vested option to add an extra year if he hit 500 plate appearances. He did that and more during the season, with that option leading to some rumored discontent that would lead to his release early the following season.

You can look up all the elite numbers that Rickey produced throughout his career, mainly in an Oakland uniform. He didn’t put up his 1990 MVP numbers with the Mets, but his .423 OBP was fourth-best in his career. How amazing is that when you read it? Only his early 90s MVP run with Oakland (and a short stint in Toronto) were better on-base seasons than his 1999 Mets stint.

The Mets have also had some good leadoff hitters in their history. Lee Mazzilli, Jose Reyes, Brandon Nimmo, and Francisco Lindor, just this past season, all come to mind. Reyes tried to be “Rickey-light” during his career but never could put it all together. Nimmo is an elite run creator whose game is predicated on OBP. Lindor’s 2024 near-MVP season is still fresh in our minds.

Even with some of their elite seasons on the Mets' books, Henderson is #1 in on-base percentage at the leadoff spot in a single Mets season, with his .417 in ‘99. It’s not even close, as Reyes, during his 2011 batting title season, is second at .383.

Let that sink in. An age-40 Henderson outplayed in-prime Reyes, Lindor, and Nimmo during the height of the steroid era. He stayed on the field and was the energizer bunny for a Mets team that won 97 games and came within two wins of a pennant. He was a key contributor in Game 163 with a home run that put some insurance runs on the board, helping Al Leiter against Cincinnati.

Rickey was a complicated guy. Anyone who talks about themselves in the third person has an ego that will ultimately become problematic. He pushed himself out of the Bronx because of that, and that is what did him with the Mets. He wasn’t happy about the vesting option and the playing time in a crowded Mets outfield in 2000. The “playing card incident” with Bobby Bonilla during Game 6 in Atlanta left a sour test in the fans’ and front office mouths. His release the following May was predictable, and everyone forgot the elite 1999 on the way out the door. Ironically, Rickey still had something left as he went to Seattle and helped them get to the ALCS that year.

What is true or fairy tale is often unknown with Rickey. Today is not a day to complain about his mercurial nature. It’s to appreciate a Moneyball player before the term was even uttered. He was moneyball with the stolen base, a component of the game that might be dead, and if it returns, it’s because of a handicap provided by the commissioner’s office in the form of the pickoff rule.

There will never be another Rickey Henderson. Maybe the pundits can say Shohei Ohtani, but Rickey still has him beat regarding real personality and old-school baseball charm.

Even though his Mets tenure was short, the community lost a piece of its history. RIP, Rickey. Thanks for 1999. I know I, for one, won’t forget that season and your contributions.