Mets to wear tiny Bud Harrelson patch because the other arm has an advertisement

 

That’s pretty small.

NEW YORK METS TO HONOR BUDDY HARRELSON WITH UNIFORM PATCH FOR 2024 SEASON

 

Members of the Harrelson family will participate in Opening Day Ceremonies on March 28

 

FLUSHING, N.Y., March 25, 2024 – The New York Mets today announced that the team will wear a tribute uniform patch all season long to honor Mets Hall of Famer Buddy Harrelson. Harrelson passed away on January 10, 2024 at age 79 after a lengthy battle with Alzheimer’s. The patch will feature Harrelson’s iconic number three with his nickname “BUDDY” in a diamond and will be worn on the sleeve of the Mets home and road jersey (photo attached).

 

Harrelson’s six grandchildren will be involved in the ceremonial first pitches on Opening Day, March 28 vs. Milwaukee.Antonio Abbatiello, Luciano Abbatiello, Danielle Soppit, Nathan Rheinor, Ryan Harrelson and Brandon Rheinor will represent the family. There will be 23 members of the Harrelson family in attendance at Citi Field on Opening Day.

“I told the kids on a Zoom call what the Mets were doing for Buddy,” Kim Battaglia, who was married to Buddy for 36 years said. “They were all so happy and overwhelmed. It will be an emotional day. We just want to thank Steve and Alex (Cohen) for honoring him. For us, it was just confirmation for the kind of person Buddy was. I don’t think there was a kinder or more generous man than Buddy. He had a heart of gold.”

Harrelson played for the Mets from 1965-1977. He was a member of the 1969 Miracle Mets, a two-time All-Star (1970 and 1971) and earned the 1971 Gold Glove at shortstop. He later would serve as a coach with the Mets in 1982 and again from 1985-1990. Harrelson took over the managerial duties early in the 1990 season and led the Mets through the 1991 campaign. He was inducted into the Mets Hall of Fame in 1986.

Harrelson was the third base coach on the 1986 World Champs, becoming the only Met to be in uniform on both World Series winning teams. Additionally, he was the only Met in uniform for the team’s first four trips to the postseason (1969, 1973, 1986 and 1988).

The Museum

Steve is pacing back and forth, clearly stressed about the financial implications of an unsold-out Opening Day.

STEVE: (worrying) Opening Day isn’t sold out. This is a disaster. We’re losing money hand over fist here. What am I gonna do Jerry?

Just then, Kramer bursts into the apartment, brimming with what he believes to be a game-changing idea.

KRAMER: (excitedly) Steve, you’re thinking about this all wrong. It’s not about tickets sold, it’s about selling product. You need to expand the team store!

STEVE: (sighing) I can’t do that, Kramer. The Mets museum is there.

KRAMER: (waving dismissively) Spread the museum pieces all over the stadium! That way, everyone can see them, and they won’t be out of the way. That’s what they do in Atlanta.

JERRY: (dryly) Because the main entrance to a baseball stadium isn’t exactly “out of the way.”

KRAMER: (undaunted) My friend Chico works with the Braves. They expanded their store, and these new jerseys  are moving like hotcakes.

Elaine, who had been listening while making a sandwich, looks up, puzzled by Kramer’s analogy.

ELAINE: (quizzically) Does anyone even eat hotcakes anymore? What are hotcakes, anyway?

STEVE: (considering) Spreading the museum pieces might actually draw more foot traffic throughout the stadium. And more foot traffic means more eyes on merchandise…

JERRY: (smirking) And maybe you can sell hotcakes next to Mike Piazza’s jersey.

KRAMER: (nodding) See? It’s all about synergy. Museum pieces here, hotcakes there. It’s a win-win.

STEVE: (slowly smiling) Maybe… just maybe, Kramer, you’re onto something. Let’s give Chico a call.

INT. CITI FIELD – CONCOURSE AREA – DAY

The stadium is buzzing with fans milling around, taking in the sights before the game starts. In one section, a small crowd has gathered around Tom Seaver’s plaque, part of the new dispersed museum initiative.

A kid, no more than ten, tugs at his father’s sleeve, pointing at the plaque with a puzzled look.

KID: (confused) Dad, why is the plaque turning green?

The father squints at the plaque, noticing the telltale signs of oxidation for the first time.

FATHER: (murmuring) Huh, looks like it’s oxidizing. That’s not good.

Nearby, Jerry and Steve are in line for hot dogs when they overhear the conversation. Steve’s eyes widen as he turns to look at the plaque.

STEVE: (panicking) Oxidizing? All the plaques are… (He trails off, imagining the worst.)

JERRY: (dryly) Maybe it’s a new feature. The ‘living’ museum, where the exhibits change colors before your eyes.

Steve doesn’t share Jerry’s sense of humor.

STEVE: (muttering to himself) Oxidizing… Not just Seaver, David Wright, Al Leiter, all of them! This was supposed to be timeless, not… not a science experiment gone wrong!

JERRY: (trying to calm him down) Steve, relax. It’s just a little patina. Adds character.

STEVE: (stopping abruptly) Character? Jerry, these are our legends. They’re turning green!

JERRY:  Well, our legends and Al Leiter.

Just then, Kramer slides up, overhearing the last part of Steve’s meltdown.

KRAMER: (enthusiastically) You know, in some cultures, the green on statues is considered a sign of wisdom and venerability.

STEVE: (exasperated) This isn’t the Statue of Liberty, Kramer. It’s the Mets’ Hall of Fame!

JERRY: More like the Mets Hallway of Fame.

As Steve storms off to address the unexpected crisis, Jerry turns to Kramer with a smirk.

JERRY: (teasing) Maybe we can start selling ‘vintage’ oxidized merchandise next. The real Citi Field experience.

KRAMER: (pondering) That’s not a bad idea. Authenticity sells, Jerry!

JERRY:  come on Steve, let’s go visit your new expanded store.

INT. CITI FIELD – NEWLY EXPANDED METS STORE – DAY

The gang walks into the bustling Mets store, now expanded and filled with a variety of new merchandise. However, the atmosphere inside is less than enthusiastic.

As Jerry, Elaine, Steve, and Kramer weave through the crowd, they overhear snippets of conversation. One fan, holding up a jersey to show his friend, voices a complaint that captures the prevailing sentiment.

FAN: (frustrated) Can you believe this? The names on these jerseys are so small, you can’t read them unless you’re right up close. Look at this, you practically need binoculars!

FRIEND: (squinting at the jersey) Seriously? Who thought that was a good idea?

The gang stops to examine the jerseys for themselves, and it’s clear the fan’s complaint is valid. The player names, stylishly minimalist to a fault, are nearly illegible from a short distance.

STEVE: (to Kramer, dismayed) You said these jerseys were a hit. What’s with the tiny print?

KRAMER: (defensively) It’s minimalist, Steve! It’s fashion-forward. It’s… it’s European!

JERRY: (dryly) Yeah, because when I think baseball, I think Europe. The Brits are gonna love these.

ELAINE: (examining a jersey) It’s like they’re trying to keep the players’ identities a secret.

As they banter, more fans gather around, nodding in agreement and sharing their own quips about the jerseys. It becomes clear that while the idea might have been innovative, the execution has left much to be desired.

SALES ASSOCIATE: (trying to remain upbeat) They’re unique, right? A real conversation starter!

JERRY: (smirking) Oh, they’re starting conversations, alright

STEVE: (turning to Kramer, frustrated) I thought you said these new jerseys are great.

KRAMER: (scratching his head) Well, they looked fantastic on paper, Steve. You know, sleek, modern… maybe it’s the lighting in here.

ELAINE: (picking up a jersey) Look at this, you need a magnifying glass just to see the number. And what’s with this fabric? It’s like wearing a sauna.

KRAMER: (trying to save face)  Elaine, you’ve got to give it time. They’re trendsetters!

SALES ASSOCIATE: (cheerfully) Special offer today! Buy a jersey, and we’ll throw in a free Mets cap.

JERRY: (quipping) How about a deal where you buy a cap and they throw in the jersey for free?

KRAMER:  $60? For a cap?  That’s a lot.

 

The Distraction

INT. JERRY’S APARTMENT – DAY

Steve is slumped on Jerry’s counter, looking dejected over the recent backlash regarding the dance team, the museum, and the Mets’ new black uniforms. Elaine and Jerry are trying to offer their support, albeit through their usual comedic lens.

STEVE: (frustrated) It’s like everything I touch turns into a PR nightmare. The dance team is being mocked on social media, they hate the black uniforms and don’t even get me started on the museum.

ELAINE: (teasingly) Maybe you should’ve signed some free agents instead of redesigning costumes. What’s next, sequins?

Just as Steve begins to respond, Kramer bursts into the apartment, full of his usual unwarranted optimism.

KRAMER: (excitedly) You’re in luck, Steve! JD Martinez is still available. Imagine the headlines: “From Museum Mistake to Home Run Hero!”

STEVE: (perplexed) JD Martinez? What are we going to do, distract the fans  with home runs?

JERRY: (sarcastically) It’s better than distracting them with interpretive dance.

KRAMER: (nodding) Exactly! It’s all about the narrative.

STEVE: (skeptical) And you think JD Martinez is the key to transforming our image?

JERRY: (sipping coffee) Well, it beats trying to win games based on the slimming effects of black uniforms.

ELAINE: (chuckling) Yeah, because when I think baseball, I think haute couture.

KRAMER: (seriously) Listen, Steve.. Martinez hits a few homers, suddenly the uniforms are ‘bold’, not ‘bleak’. The dance team becomes ‘innovative’, not ‘incomprehensible’.

STEVE: (pondering) So, you’re suggesting we outslug our problems?

JERRY: (jokingly) It’s the American way. If you can’t solve it, outscore it.

INT. METS FRONT OFFICE – DAY

Steve strides into the office with determination. David is already there, pouring over player stats and potential signings on his computer. Steve wastes no time in getting straight to the point.

STEVE: David, I’ve made a decision. We’re going to sign JD Martinez.

David looks up, surprised, then quickly pulls up Martinez’s stats on his screen.

DAVID: (concerned) Are you sure? His walk percentage was down to 7.1 from 8.7 the year before. That’s a significant drop.

STEVE: (dismissing the concern with a wave of his hand) Walks schmalks. Sign him. We need his bat in the lineup, and we need a story to get the fans excited again.

DAVID: (typing) Alright, if you’re sure. But it’s not just about the walks. His overall on-base percentage…

STEVE: (firmly) David, I appreciate the diligence, but let’s not get lost in the weeds. We need a hitter, and Martinez can hit. That’s what the fans want to see, and that’s what’s going to win us games.

David nods, still a bit hesitant but trusting Steve’s judgment. He begins the process of reaching out to Martinez’s agent, ready to negotiate.

DAVID: (getting to work) Okay, I’ll get on it right away. Let’s hope his bat does all the talking we need it to.

STEVE: (smiling) That’s the spirit. We’re playing long ball here, David. Time to make some bold moves.

INT. METS OWNER’S BOX AT CITI FIELD – DAY

The gang is gathered in the owner’s box, the air thick with tension. The Mets are down by one in the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, and JD Martinez steps up to the plate. The crowd’s excitement is palpable, everyone on the edge of their seats.

The voice of Gary Cohen fills the box, emanating from the speakers: “The bases are loaded with the Mets down one, two outs, and JD Martinez is the batter.”

STEVE: (holding his breath) This is it. This is why we signed him.

JERRY: (nervously) Come on, JD. Earn that paycheck.

ELAINE: (clasping her hands together) Please let this be a movie moment.

KRAMER: (standing up) I can feel it! This is the big one!

Gary Cohen’s voice rises in excitement: “Martinez hits one to the track, to the wall…”

The gang leans forward, as if willing the ball over the wall with their collective will.

GARY COHEN: “…it’s caught, and the Mets lose again.”

A collective groan fills the owner’s box. The crowd’s energy deflates in an instant, the palpable excitement replaced with disappointment.

STEVE: (sighing deeply) So close…

JERRY: (trying to lighten the mood) Well, on the bright side, at least we know the ballpark’s dimensions are accurate.