Carlos Delgado hit his 400th home run as a Met. That was awkward. Carlos Delgado hit the first 369 of his home runs playing for other teams, so the accomplishment didn’t really mean anything to me, or other Mets fans. But, much like with Tom Glavine’s 300th win and Rey Ordonez’s 500th weak pop-up, teams feel obligated to celebrate their player’s achievements, so they made a big deal out of it. Awkward. 

Delgado is now officially retired (or he was convicted of a crime relating to something called steroids…I’m having trouble remembering which muscular baseball-playing gentleman recently did what) and I bring up that 400 home run thing up because it is just one of the many oddities that occurred during Carlos Delgado’s time with the Mets. 

First, before he even arrived, in 2005 the Mets tried to sign Delgado as a free agent. He did not sign and publicly said that he disliked Omar Minaya’s appeal to him specifically as a fellow Hispanic. This may have been the genesis of the “Mets only want Hispanic players,” conspiracy theory, which would have been laughable if it didn’t carry with it the very real undertones racial resentment (how dare the Mets take jobs from hard-working white folks like Jeff Franceour!).

The Mets then traded for Delgado, which must have been kind of weird, but baseball being a business, everyone seems to have gotten over it. In addition to perhaps starting what would become the most racially charged talk-radio topic of the Minaya era, Delgado had also drawn criticism because he didn’t stand during “God Bless America,” in Yankee Stadium, which is apparently treason. See Carlos didn’t like the American wars in Iraq in Afghanistan — just like many other people — nor did he like his home country, Puerto Rico, being used for bombing practice by the U.S. military. So he chose not to stand for “God Bless America,” a relatively tame response. This may have been the most outrageous thing anyone has ever done. I specifically remember, both on talk radio and among people I knew, phrases like “disrespectful to the people who died on 9/11” being thrown around, because for some reason baseball and terrorism have become all mixed up in our heads. Delgado eventually agreed to stand for the song, because otherwise the very fabric of democracy would’ve crumbled. Later, he would win the Robert Clemente Award, named after his childhood hero, for being baseball’s most charitable dude. This is nothing to be proud of. Robert Clemente and Carlos Delgado are communists. 

When actually on the Mets. Delgado seemed to hit very, very well. But short of his home run and RBI totals, his numbers look very ordinary for a 1B. OPS’s of .909, .781, and .871? Albert Puljos and Miguel Cabrera want you to know they find those numbers laughable. But I’ll always believe Delgado’s contribution was bigger than that. He was a presence. The big dude cerebrally writing in that little notebook of his. His fist-pump, down-then-up, after a big double plays symbolizes the last time the Mets were good. And those home runs? Man, those were home runs. That dude could hit the ball really, really far. Even early in 2009, when nobody else could regularly get the ball out of Citi Field, Carlos had four homer before succumbing to injury. No park could contain him. 

These were clutch homers, too. At least I think so. I’m not sure what clutch is, nor am I sure my memory isn’t lying to me. But it feels like every time the Mets were trailing in 2008, there was Carlos Delgado, powering them back with an epic blast worthy of Mike Piazza. His resurrection from washed up to MVP candidate within that season was nothing short of miraculous. Back in 2006, when the rest of the Mets seemed a bit tepid in the NLDS against Los Angeles, Delgado was there, relishing his first playoff appearance and tearing the cover off the ball.

If you read this blog at all, you know I like to use Wins Above Replacement to determine a player’s value. But in this case, forget Delgado’s WAR of 3.2, 1.6 and 3 for the Mets. He was better than that. A lot better.

Another curious thing about Delgado’s time here was how he was viewed. Originally, the general impression of Carlos was that of soothing veteran influence, embracer of cosmopolitan New York and best friend to Carlos Beltran, whose bounce-back 2006 Delgado was often partially credited for. But a funny thing happened later, as the team got worse and worse. Now, Delgado was surly and reclusive. Writing in that notebook, rather than a sign he was a student of the game, meant he was aloof, more interested in his individual performance than being a good teammate. When he was officially no longer a Met after the 2009 season, lots of words were expounded on how the Mets could now turn the page from veterans like Delgado and get his bad influence out of the clubhouse. This would return the Mets to glory. We’re still waiting.

So which Carlos was the real one? Was he a terrible teammate who disrespected the dead and was, over the course of his Mets career, a slightly above average 1B? Or was he a veteran presence in the clubhouse, a devastating middle of the order presence, clutch hitter and a person with political views, just as valid as anyone else’s? I think you know where I stand.