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Marvelous Marv departed early in 1963, but the Mets' maladies lingered. The humor began to wear a little thin —at least in the clubhouse. "It was no fun, no laughs at all," recalls Jones, who played in six games that year. "Imagine walking into a locker room before a game and hearing guys ask, 'Well, who's going to blow it for us today?' Or people referring to you as the Ringling Brothers Circus. I was too embarrassed to show my face in public." For those who groused about their station in life, Casey conjured a classic reply: "I been hearing that some of these ballplayers are not too happy about being with the Mets. I told 'em maybe they shouldn't be so proud, and that they should consider that they are fortunate in being with the Mets because there must be some flaw in them or they wouldn't have been sold to us by those other clubs."
When the Mets moved into their new Shea Stadium in 1964, they played about as badly as they had in the old Polo Grounds, losing 109 games and winding up, as expected, in last place. But they were slowly undergoing a transformation—from beguiling buffoonery to mundane mediocrity. Casey was forced to retire in 1965 with a fractured hip, and things were dull without him standing on the dugout steps, crossing two fingers on each hand and shouting "Whommy! Whommy! Whommy!" at opposing players. His lackluster successor, Wes Westrum, guided the Mets past the Cubs to their first ninth-place finish. They recorded another first in 1966: they lost fewer than 100 games. Despite the change, attendance rose, and the steadfast fans still brandished their banners and sang their chants. But some of the old élan was gone. The Mets had become just another bad ball club.
Out of a Hat
Still, the seeds of future success were being planted. The front office had developed a five-club farm system and hired a covey of scouts to prowl school stadiums and the American Legion circuit in search of promising talent. The scouting system sometimes flopped. In 1966 the Mets drafted as their first choice Catcher Steve Chilcott, passing up hard-hitting Reggie Jackson. Chilcott has never played a major league game, while Jackson—who has already hit 45 home runs for Oakland this season—is developing into one of baseball's great sluggers. Sometimes, though, the Mets had better luck. That same year, for example, they picked up a handsome young pitcher named George Thomas Seaver.
Being the Mets, they naturally acquired the first of their new child wonders almost by accident. Seaver compiled an impressive 10-2 record his sophomore year at the University of Southern California, and signed a $50,000 contract with the Atlanta Braves. Major league officials ruled the contract void, and after that, the Mets, along with the Philadelphia Phillies and Cleveland Indians, made offers to Seaver. The league decreed that the contest should be settled by lot, and the scrap of paper drawn out of a hat read "Mets."