Believe it or not, the New York Mets 1973 season was never supposed to happen the way it did. Seriously. If you look at the standings in late August of that year, the Mets weren't just bad; they were "sell your season tickets and go to the beach" bad. They were stuck in last place. Dead last. In a division that was already being mocked as the "National League Least" because nobody seemed to want to win it.
The story of the New York Mets 1973 run is basically the ultimate "hold my beer" moment in sports history. It’s a messy, chaotic, beautiful disaster that somehow ended with a pennant. Most people remember Tug McGraw screaming "Ya Gotta Believe!" but they forget how miserable things were before that slogan took hold.
The August From Hell
On August 30, the Mets were 61-71. They were nine games out of first place with about a month to go. In a normal year, a team like that is cooked. They're done. You start playing the rookies and scouting for next season. But 1973 wasn't a normal year. The NL East was a slow-motion car wreck. The Chicago Cubs, St. Louis Cardinals, and Pittsburgh Pirates were all hovering around .500, essentially tripping over their own shoelaces.
Tom Seaver was there, obviously. He was "The Franchise." But even Seaver couldn't pitch every day, though sometimes it felt like Yogi Berra wanted him to. Yogi was the manager, and if we're being honest, his tactical style was... let's call it "instinctual." He didn't have a spreadsheet. He had a gut feeling and a bunch of guys who were starting to get healthy at the exact right time.
Cleon Jones came back. Jerry Grote, arguably the most underrated defensive catcher in the history of the game, got behind the plate again. The pitching staff started to look like a firing squad. It wasn't just Seaver; you had Jerry Koosman, Jon Matlack, and George Stone.
George Stone. Seriously, look up his stats from that year. He went 12-3 with a 2.40 ERA. Without George Stone, the New York Mets 1973 miracle never leaves the ground. He was the quiet engine that kept the car moving while Seaver and Koosman got all the headlines.
Tug McGraw and the Power of Positive Delusion
Tug McGraw was a character. He was the kind of guy who would slap his glove against his thigh and jump off the mound like he’d just won the lottery after a routine save. In July, the team was meeting with M. Donald Grant—the team's chairman who everyone pretty much hated—and Grant was giving a "win one for the Gipper" style speech.
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Tug, being Tug, started shouting "Ya Gotta Believe!"
At first, it was kind of a joke. A sarcastic jab at how bad they were. But then they started winning. Then they won some more. Suddenly, the sarcasm turned into a mantra. It became the rallying cry for a city that, quite frankly, was going through some stuff in the early 70s. New York was gritty, tired, and broke. This team fit the vibe perfectly.
The NL East Chaos and the September Surge
You want to know how weird the New York Mets 1973 division race was? The Mets finished the season with 82 wins. 82! That is barely above .500. Usually, that gets you a third-place finish and a pat on the back. But because the rest of the division was so mediocre, 82 wins was enough to take the crown.
- They went 19-8 in September.
- They vaulted from 6th place to 1st in a matter of weeks.
- On September 21, they finally grabbed a share of first place.
It was a sprint. Every game felt like a playoff game because the margins were so thin. Bud Harrelson and Felix Millan were turning double plays like they were reading each other's minds. Rusty Staub—"Le Grand Orange"—was playing through more pain than most people can imagine. His shoulder was basically held together by tape and sheer willpower.
The Playoff Brawl Nobody Forgets
When the Mets got to the NLCS, they had to face the "Big Red Machine." The Cincinnati Reds. Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Johnny Bench, Tony Perez. This was a team of titans. On paper, the Mets should have been swept in three games and sent home to Queens.
But the Mets had pitching.
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In Game 3, things got ugly. Pete Rose slid hard into second base to break up a double play. Bud Harrelson, who was about 150 pounds soaking wet, didn't like the slide. They started wrestling in the dirt. It was a mismatch of epic proportions—Rose was a tank—but it fired up the Shea Stadium crowd. Fans started throwing everything that wasn't bolted down at Pete Rose. Baseballs, beer cans, a literal iron pipe (allegedly).
Sparky Anderson, the Reds manager, pulled his team off the field. He said he wouldn't play until the fans calmed down. The Mets had to send Seaver, Staub, and Berra out to left field to beg the fans to stop throwing junk. It worked. The Mets won the game. They eventually won the series.
They were going to the World Series. The team that was in last place in late August was four wins away from a title.
The World Series Against the A's: A Bridge Too Far?
The 1973 World Series against the Oakland Athletics is one of the great "what ifs" in Mets history. The A's were a dynasty. They had Reggie Jackson, Catfish Hunter, and Rollie Fingers. They also had bright green and yellow uniforms and mustaches that would make a 19th-century bartender jealous.
The Mets actually led the series 3 games to 2. They were one win away.
In Game 6, Seaver was on the mound. This was it. The moment. But Seaver was tired. He'd carried the team for months. He pitched well, but the Mets couldn't score enough. Then came Game 7.
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There's a lot of debate about Game 7. Yogi Berra decided to start Jon Matlack on short rest instead of going with George Stone, who was fully rested. Matlack got rocked. Reggie Jackson and Bert Campaneris hit two-run homers in the third inning. The Mets lost 5-2.
Looking back, was it a mistake not to start Stone? Probably. Stone had been lights-out. But you don't bet against your aces in Game 7. You just don't. That loss stung, and it still stings for fans of a certain age who remember the heartbreak of coming so close after such an impossible run.
Why We Still Talk About 1973
The New York Mets 1973 season matters because it proved that the regular season is a marathon, not a sprint. It’s the ultimate evidence for the "just get in" philosophy of playoff baseball. Once you get into the postseason, anything—literally anything—can happen.
It also cemented the identity of the Mets as the "lovable underdogs" of New York. The 1969 "Miracle Mets" were the first to do it, but 1973 proved it wasn't a fluke. It established a culture of grit.
What You Should Do Next
If you want to really dive into the soul of this team, don't just look at the box scores.
- Watch the highlights of the Rose-Harrelson brawl. It’s on YouTube. You can see the raw intensity of Shea Stadium in the 70s. It was a different world.
- Check out Tug McGraw’s book, "Ya Gotta Believe!" It’s a wild ride through his psyche and the clubhouse atmosphere of that year.
- Look up the 1973 NL East standings month-by-month. It’s hilarious. Seeing a team go from 12 games under .500 to the World Series is a great reminder that your favorite team probably isn't as dead as you think they are in June.
- Visit the Mets Hall of Fame at Citi Field. They have plenty of artifacts from '73, including uniforms and memorabilia that put the era into perspective.
The 1973 Mets didn't win the World Series. They lost. But in the minds of Mets fans, that season is just as legendary as 1969 or 1986. It was the year of the "Happy Losers" who refused to actually lose until the very last day. It was the year that "Ya Gotta Believe" became part of the New York lexicon forever.
Seriously, next time your team is ten games out in August, just remember George Stone, Tug McGraw, and a 150-pound shortstop who wasn't afraid to fight Pete Rose. It ain't over 'til it's over.