Gary Carter died yesterday of brain cancer at the age of 57. One of the best catchers I ever saw. He joined the Mets in 1985 after an illustrious career with the Montreal Expos. He was the final piece to the championship puzzle, which would finally be solved in 1986. Without him, they would not have won.
Carter had constant enthusiasm on the field, led his team in hugging his teammates. Off the field he was a family man, but had his critics, especially when it came to having to pay for autographs, which Carter donated to his charity.
I've been reading tributes to him, Mets pitcher Ron Darling in a cancer awareness ad that aired during the World Series, held up a sign that read, "My catcher."
New manager of the Buffalo Bisons (the Mets AAA team) Wally Backman, said yesterday that, "Gary was ... if I had an idol as a player I played with, Gary would definitely be one of them. Without question. In remembering Gary, I'm going to wear 8 until somebody tells me I can't wear it."
I hope he wears it awhile, but I hope the Mets retire #8, in his memory. There's never going to be another like The Kid.
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