Gary Carter: The Kid, The Walk-Off, and A Moment I Will Never Forget

(Sung to the tune of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band)

It was 40 years ago today,

Gary Carter came to play at Shea

He hit a walk-off in the tenth that day

And Mets fans knew he’d come to stay

So may I introduce to you

The smile that lit up all those years—

Gary Carter’s magic Mets debut!

Now that you’ll be singing that all day in your head (you’re welcome), let me shift gears for a second. I don’t want to get too sentimental here, but Gary Carter wasn’t just another guy in the lineup to me. He was one of my all-time favorite Mets. The kind of player you wanted your kid to look up to. The kind of guy who smiled like he meant it, made you believe, and showed up with joy—leaving it all out there, every single day.

And, yes, he was also the kind of guy who hit a walk-off home run in his very first game in a Mets uniform. You know, just to make a decent first impression.

That chilly April 9, 1985, was Carter’s long-awaited debut in orange and blue, and wouldn’t you know it—it also would’ve been a day after his 29th birthday. You can’t script that kind of symmetry. Unless, of course, you're writing The Natural, which, as it turns out, was exactly what Ralph Kiner was thinking about that day.

“I was thinking about Glenn Close singing the national anthem,” Ralph said on Kiner’s Korner after the game. “She was in The Natural, and Robert Redford hits a homer to win the game—and here you are doing exactly what they’d put up in a regular movie.” Ralph had introduced Gary as “Gary Cooper” before the game, perhaps subconsciously thinking of Pride of the Yankees—but his reasoning made sense. Gary’s performance, with that dramatic walk-off hit, was the kind of moment straight out of a classic film, and Ralph couldn’t help but see the comparison.

Let’s rewind for a second. Carter had been the heart and soul of the Montreal Expos for over a decade. The fans loved him. He hit 220 homers there, made seven All-Star teams, and earned the nickname “The Kid” for his boundless energy and perpetual optimism—basically, he was Labrador Retriever energy in catcher’s gear.

But the Expos, like my cholesterol, were trending in the wrong direction. After one playoff appearance in 1981, things stagnated. Meanwhile, in Flushing, the Mets were finally starting to turn the corner. They’d just gone 90-72 in ’84, had the Rookie of the Year in Dwight Gooden, and were suddenly a “just one piece away” kind of team.

Carter was that piece.

On December 10, 1984, the Mets pulled off the kind of blockbuster that gives sportswriters carpal tunnel: they traded Hubie Brooks, Mike Fitzgerald, and two minor leaguers (including future “oh yeah, I remember him” Floyd Youmans) to Montreal for Carter. Because he’d been with one team for over five years and had ten years of MLB service, Carter could’ve vetoed the deal. He didn’t. He saw something brewing in New York—and he liked it.

The Mets unveiled their newest weapon on Opening Day against the eventual 1985 National League champion St. Louis Cardinals. Dwight Gooden, all of 20 years old, was on the mound, bringing the heat, which was good as at game time, the temperature was a chilly 45 degrees. But that didn’t matter—the atmosphere felt like the World Series, even though it was only April. It was also a glimpse of the fierce NL East battle that would heat up come late September and early October.Joaquin Andujar, coming off a 20-win season, started for the Cards. Vice President George H.W. Bush threw the ceremonial first pitch, and the crowd of 46,781 was ready for something big.

They got it.

The Mets jumped out to a 5-2 lead thanks to RBIs from Keith Hernandez, Howard Johnson, Rafael Santana, and a George Foster dinger. But in true Mets fashion, they let the Cardinals sneak back in, tying the game at five in the ninth after Doug Sisk issued a bases-loaded walk to Jack Clark, which is just about the most early 1980s Mets sentence ever written.

Then came the tenth. Hernandez struck out leading off, which merely cleared the stage. Carter stepped in against former Met Neil Allen, who, if you recall, had been traded away in the deal that brought Keith to Queens in 1983—a trade that John Stearns once called “the biggest heist since The Thomas Crown Affair.”

Allen hung a curve. Carter did what stars do.

He crushed it.

Lonnie Smith reached for the ball at the left-field wall, but it had just enough to sneak over. Walk-off. Mets win, 6–5. Shea went bonkers.

On Kiner’s Korner that night—a rite of passage as sacred as bagels and lox on a New York Sunday morning—Carter sat next to Ralph, glowing and still wearing an ice pack on his elbow from an earlier hit-by-pitch.

Ralph, never one to shy away from mixing metaphors or movies, said, “You’re like Robert Redford in The Natural. That was a movie finish.”

Carter smiled. “That’s the first one I’ve hit in the bottom of the ninth—or tenth, actually—to win a ballgame. I’m so thankful to the good Lord I got the opportunity to come here.”

He also admitted the day hadn’t started so storybook. “First time up, I get hit in the arm. Then a passed ball. Then called out on strikes. It wasn’t the best beginning.”

But the ending? Straight out of Hollywood.

Carter went on to make the All-Star team in each of his first four seasons in New York. In 1986, he hit 24 homers, drove in 105 runs, and played a pivotal role in that glorious, chaotic World Series win over the Red Sox. You remember—Game 6, two outs, nobody on, Carter gets a hit, the Mets rally, Buckner... you know the rest.

By 1989, injuries caught up to him, and the Mets let him go. But he played on with the Giants, Dodgers, and then, fittingly, closed out his career back in Montreal in 1992.

In retirement, Carter stayed close to the game as a broadcaster, coach, as well as managing several teams, including the Long Island Ducks He was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 2003, cap proudly featuring an Expos logo—but make no mistake, a big piece of his heart stayed in Queens. He had suggested it would be nice to have a split hat, featuring both the Expos and Mets logos, but ultimately, the decision rested with the Hall—and he accepted it with grace.

One of my biggest thrills was having Gary on my radio show in December of 2008. You can hear the full interview below, and it was an unforgettable experience. They say you should never meet your idols because sometimes your expectations are so high that it’s hard for them to live up to them. Well, Gary’s bar was set pretty high, and somehow, he still managed to exceed it. He was everything I hoped for—gracious, insightful, and just as genuine as you’d imagine. That interview will always be one of the highlights of my career

When he passed away in 2012 from brain cancer, it hit Mets fans hard. You don’t get many players like that. You don’t get many people like that.

The Smile, The Heart, The Moment

When Carter circled the bases that cold April afternoon in '85, his grin wide enough to light up Shea, you couldn’t help but think: this was a moment that would live forever.

The Mets had found something special.

The fans did too.

And if you were watching Kiner’s Korner that night, you saw it in Carter’s eyes and heard it in Ralph’s voice. As Ralph said, “As long as we have ballgames like this, it’s going to be you on that end and stars of the Mets on this end.”

Well, Gary Carter was a star, all right. And on this day, 40 years later, he still shines just as bright.

As we reflect on the significance of that day, we invite you to share your own memories. Whether you were there in the stands or just a kid watching from home, your recollections are part of the Mets’ story, and Gary Carter’s legacy. Leave a comment below and let us know how his debut impacted you, or what it meant to see the Kid don the Mets’ colors for the first time. After all, it’s not just the players who create the magic—it's the fans who carry that spark through the years.