I can still remember exactly where I was when Bartolo Colon hit his first career home run, ten years ago today, May 7, 2016.
I was throwing away a poopy diaper.
My son was three months old, and after feeding him, my wife handed him off to me for some dad time while she rested. I took him in my arms and walked to the basement, where I had the Mets game on the television. They were playing the Padres at Petco Park on a Saturday night. I was rocking him and generally enjoying some alone time with him.
My daughter was already in bed, and so it was just Dad and Ben time.
And then, as he was wont to do, he pooped.
Being a dutiful father, I got out the mat, the wipes, the fresh diaper, and I got to work, while sneaking glances at the TV. I finished the job, got him dressed, and left him on the floor with a toy while I disposed of the diaper. I could hear the emotion in Gary Cohen’s voice as I was walking back from the garbage, but by the time I got to the TV, I had missed it. Thankfully, it was 2016 and not 1996, so I could rewind the broadcast and watch it in all of its glory. And then watch it again. And again. And text my brother and father to make sure that they saw it.
And then watch it again.
Why was this moment, both then and now, so iconic? Colon was obviously a fan favorite Met, but he wasn’t a long-tenured Met. This start was his seventh of the year, and he was in his third and final year as a Met. But few players before or since made such an immediate or positive impact on the fanbase, if not the club.
Colon’s 2014 was essentially a league average year (0.4 bWAR) for a Mets team that was still figuring itself out. But Colon’s sense of humor, casual nature, and everyman physique made him a fan favorite off the bat. Over the next two seasons, Colon was a steady hand, helping to guide the young aces of Jacob deGrom, Noah Syndergaard, Zack Wheeler, and Steven Matz. Matt Harvey was already established by the time Colon arrived, but it was clearly Bart and the kids in the rotation, and he seemed to enjoy that role.
For the young fans, Grandpa Bartolo was a fun role. For those of us who were already older than most of the Mets in 2016, it was nice to see a guy not just holding onto his dream well into adulthood, but also well into beer belly territory. And for fans even older than Colon, he represented a throwback to a different time of baseball, where you didn’t need to be a physical specimen to be an All-Star player. Colon represented a different type of six pack than many of his teammates.
But perhaps the least heralded reason for the enduring nature of the Bartolo home run is Gary Cohen’s masterful call of it.
Gary Cohen: Colon looking for his first hit of the year. He drives one deep to left field…back goes Upton…back near the wall…it’s outta here! Bartolo has done it. The Impossible has happened. The team vacates the dugout as Bartolo takes the long trot; his first career home run, and there will be nobody in the dugout to greet him! This is one of the great moments in the history of baseball. Bartolo Colon has gone deep.
Ron Darling: I want to say that was one of the longest home run trots I’ve ever seen, but I think that’s how fast he runs!
Cohen: And now they’ll flood up the tunnel and give him his just due. His 226th career at bat. You knew if he ever made contact in just the right way, he was strong enough to do it, and now Bartolo has brought down the house.
Gare is the best of the best, and part of that is because he never loses his fandom and enthusiasm. He was all of us in his call, most especially when his voice cracks in the middle of ‘outta.’ He’s so overcome with the dinger that his voice literally can’t control itself, and Cohen’s voice is conditioned far better than most to control itself.
There are hundreds of great Mets moments that we all count as our favorites, but there is something so Metsian about this moment in particular. It was a game that really mattered, as the Mets only made the playoffs by the skin of their teeth, but it happened in season that ended in disappointment. It was a career that had its highs and lows but never really coalesced into sustained greatness. It was a moment that, on the surface, doesn’t really define anything or truly matter in the grand scheme of the team, the player, or the sport.
But we all know that’s not true. The Bartolo homer matters. The impossible happened.
