Ask any Mets fan over the age of forty about Orel Hershiser and watch their eye twitch. It’s been decades, but the New York Mets 1988 run remains one of those "what if" scenarios that keeps bar arguments alive from Flushing to Montauk. Honestly, that team was better than the '86 squad. Statistically, they were a juggernaut. They won 100 games, cruised to the National League East title by 15 games, and had a rotation that looked like a video game cheat code. Yet, when people talk about the golden era of Mets baseball, '88 is usually the chapter they want to skip because of how it ended—in a cold, stunning collapse against a Dodgers team that had no business being on the same field as them.
It was supposed to be a dynasty.
The swagger of the mid-80s was still there, but it was refined. You had Dwight Gooden, Ron Darling, and a young David Cone who was just starting to realize he could strike out the world. The offense wasn’t just Darryl Strawberry hitting moonshots into the Shea Stadium night; it was Kevin McReynolds putting up quiet, MVP-caliber numbers and Gary Carter providing the veteran pulse, even if his knees were starting to scream. They were the Kings of New York. But baseball is a cruel sport that doesn't care about your regular-season win total or how many magazine covers you graced in April.
The Dominance Nobody Remembers
Most people focus on the NLCS, but the actual regular season for the New York Mets 1988 was a masterclass in NL East bullying. They finished 100-60. To put that in perspective, the second-place Pittsburgh Pirates were a distant memory by August. Davey Johnson had a roster that could beat you with a 10-run blowout or a 1-0 pitcher’s duel.
Dwight Gooden went 18-9 with a 3.19 ERA. David Cone? He was absolutely electric, going 20-3 with a 2.22 ERA. Think about those numbers for a second. In the modern era, that’s a unanimous Cy Young. He was a 25-year-old kid with a slider that moved like it was controlled by a magnet. Then you had Ron Darling winning 17 games and Sid Fernandez, with that deceptive delivery, striking out nearly a batter per inning. The rotation was so deep that Bob Ojeda, a hero of '86, was essentially the fourth or fifth guy.
The hitting was equally terrifying for opposing pitchers. Darryl Strawberry led the league with 39 home runs and a .545 slugging percentage. He was at the absolute peak of his powers, a physical specimen who made the game look unfairly easy. Kevin McReynolds added 27 homers and 99 RBIs, playing the "professional hitter" role to perfection. They were balanced, they were arrogant, and they were healthy. Unlike the 1987 season, where injuries derailed their title defense, the '88 crew arrived in October looking invincible.
That David Cone Column and the Turning Tide
If you want to point to a moment where the vibes shifted, you have to talk about David Cone’s foray into journalism. During the NLCS against the Dodgers, Cone wrote (or co-wrote) a column for the New York Daily News. In it, he took some shots at Dodgers pitcher Jay Howell, calling his curveball "little high school sliders" and suggesting that Orel Hershiser was "lucky" in Game 1.
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It was pure 1980s Mets bravado. It was also total bulletin board material.
The Dodgers, led by the intense Tommy Lasorda, ate it up. They used it to fuel a "us against the world" narrative. The Mets were the big-city bullies, the flashy stars with the fancy stats. The Dodgers were the scrappy underdogs. When Cone took the mound for Game 2, the Dodgers shelled him. It was a reality check. While the Mets eventually clawed back into the series, that column felt like the first crack in the armor. It proved that while the Mets had more talent, the Dodgers had more "destiny" or whatever mystical force governs October baseball.
The Mike Scioscia Homer: The Night Shea Went Silent
We have to talk about Game 4. If the New York Mets 1988 season has a single point of failure, this is it. It is the game that haunts Davey Johnson’s legacy. The Mets were leading 4-2 in the ninth inning. Dwight Gooden was on the mound. He had been dominant. Shea Stadium was shaking. The Mets were three outs away from taking a 3-1 series lead, which would have essentially punched their ticket to the World Series.
Gooden walked Mike Davis. Then came Mike Scioscia.
Scioscia was not a home run hitter. He had hit three—literally three—home runs the entire regular season. He was a gritty, defensive catcher known for blocking the plate, not for late-inning heroics. Gooden hung a curveball. Scioscia didn't miss it. The ball cleared the right-field wall, and the sound in Shea Stadium went from a deafening roar to a haunting, vacuum-like silence.
The Mets eventually lost that game in extra innings.
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The momentum didn't just shift; it evaporated. People still debate why Johnson didn't go to his closer, Randy Myers, earlier. Or why Gooden, who was clearly tiring and had struggled with his command in the 9th, was left out there to face Scioscia. It’s one of those managerial decisions that gets dissected for forty years because the stakes were so incredibly high. If they win Game 4, they win the series. If they win the series, they almost certainly beat the Oakland A's in the World Series, just like the Dodgers did.
The Kirk Gibson Factor (Before the World Series)
Everyone remembers Kirk Gibson’s home run in the World Series against Dennis Eckersley. But Gibson was a thorn in the Mets' side the entire NLCS. He hit a go-ahead home run in the 12th inning of Game 4. He caught everything in the outfield. He played with a limping, snarling intensity that seemed to rattle the Mets. While Strawberry and McReynolds were putting up better "paper" stats, Gibson was the emotional engine that the Mets couldn't figure out how to stall.
Why 1988 Was the True End of the Dynasty
The 1986 championship was supposed to be the start of something like the 1950s Yankees. They had the young pitching, the money, and the farm system. But after the 1988 loss, things started to fray. The clubhouse culture, which was always a bit volatile, began to sour.
- The Aging Core: Gary Carter’s production plummeted shortly after.
- The Trades: The front office started making moves that didn't pan out, trying to "fix" a team that was already great.
- The Coaching: Davey Johnson’s relationship with management grew strained.
Basically, 1988 was the last time that specific group of Mets felt like the best team in baseball. By 1989, they were a good team, but the aura of invincibility was gone. By 1991, they were sinking into the "Worst Team Money Could Buy" era.
Examining the Numbers: A Statistical Anomaly
If you look at the run differential, the New York Mets 1988 should have won that series ten times out of ten. They outscored their opponents by nearly 200 runs during the season. The Dodgers were essentially a one-man show with Orel Hershiser.
| Metric | 1988 NY Mets | 1988 LA Dodgers |
|---|---|---|
| Regular Season Wins | 100 | 94 |
| Team ERA | 2.91 | 2.96 |
| Home Runs | 152 | 99 |
| Batting Average | .249 | .248 |
The gap in power was massive. The Mets hit 53 more home runs than the Dodgers. In a short series, however, power can go cold. The Mets' bats went silent at the worst possible moments. In Game 7, they were shut out by Hershiser, who was pitching on short rest and looked completely untouchable. It was a masterclass in "clutch" pitching versus "dominant" pitching.
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The Legacy of Orel Hershiser
You can't write about this season without giving the devil his due. Hershiser’s 1988 was perhaps the greatest individual season for a pitcher in the history of the game. He ended the regular season with 59 consecutive scoreless innings. He then proceeded to dismantle the Mets. He pitched in Games 1, 3, 7, and even came in for a save in Game 4. He was the "Mets Killer."
What We Can Learn From the '88 Collapse
So, what’s the takeaway here? For modern baseball fans and analysts, the 1988 Mets serve as a cautionary tale about the volatility of the MLB playoffs. You can be the better team over 162 games and still be the worse team over seven.
If you're looking to apply the lessons of 1988 to today’s game, consider these points:
- Bullpen management is everything. Davey Johnson’s hesitation to pull Gooden in Game 4 is a textbook example of why modern managers have such a short leash.
- The "closer" role matters. Randy Myers was great, but the way he was utilized in that series remains a point of contention among sabermetricians who look back at the data.
- Psychology plays a role. The David Cone column proves that even in a pre-social media world, "bulletin board material" can have a tangible impact on the energy of a series.
- Don't take a window for granted. The Mets thought they had a decade of dominance ahead of them. In reality, their window was about four years wide.
The New York Mets 1988 season wasn't a failure because they were a bad team. It was a failure because they were a great team that blinked at the exact moment they needed to stare down their opponent. It remains the most talented team in franchise history to not bring home a trophy.
For those looking to dive deeper into the specific play-by-play of that era, I highly recommend checking out the archival footage of Game 4 and Game 7. Watching Hershiser’s sinker and Gooden’s high heat provides a level of context that box scores simply can't capture. You can also look into Jeff Pearlman’s various writings on the era, which capture the chaotic, drug-fueled, high-octane energy of the 80s Mets locker room.
Next Steps for the Die-Hard Fan:
- Compare the 1986 and 1988 rosters player by player; you'll find the '88 team actually had a higher WAR (Wins Above Replacement) in several key categories.
- Watch the "30 for 30" documentary Once Upon a Time in Queens to get a better sense of the cultural climate surrounding Shea Stadium at the time.
- Research the 1989 off-season trades to see how the team tried to compensate for the '88 loss, ultimately leading to the breakup of the core pitching staff.