Welcome to the first installment of Mets Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, where we take a trip down memory lane to revisit the orange-and-blue-clad players who time—and often Mets fans—seem to have forgotten. Every week, we’ll rummage through baseball cards (or crumbling programs that smelled like hot dogs) to shine a light on the Mets who didn’t make headlines but somehow found a way to be part of the team’s unpredictable and unforgettable history at Shea, Citi, the Polo Grounds, and beyond.Think of this as a history class for the diehards, but without the pop quizzes or mandatory attendance. Whether these players were flashes in the pan, benchwarmers who turned into cult heroes, or just plain footnotes, they all have a story worth telling so grab a seat, sharpen your pencils, and let’s get to work!
In the 63-year history of the New York Mets, 1,252 players have donned the orange and blue, and out of that massive lineup, only 0.71884984%—or nine players, for those of you without a calculator, Siri, or a Ph.D. in math—can claim a perfect batting average of 1.000. Of those nine, seven were pitchers who probably needed smelling salts after their lone hit, one was a pinch hitter who never even stepped onto the field, and then there’s today’s subject: the one, the only, Dave Liddell. Unlike the others, Liddell not only delivered in his one pinch-hit opportunity but followed it up by actually playing the field as a catcher.
So, who exactly is Dave Liddell? Well, if you blinked during the 1990 season, you might have missed him—but that’s why we’re here. Let’s dive into the story of the man who went one-for-one in his Mets career and left a quirky, unforgettable mark on team history.
Why are we kicking off this series with Dave Liddell, you ask? Well, for starters, if you’re ever looking to impress at your next Mets trivia night, you’re going to want to know about this guy. Dave Liddell’s Major League Baseball career, which spanned a grand total of one game, was so short it practically qualifies as a cameo. Born June 15, 1966, Liddell suited up for the Mets in 1990 for a brief, yet remarkable appearance.
On June 3, 1990, he stepped into the batter’s box as a pinch hitter for catcher Mackey Sasser against the Philadelphia Phillies. Liddell took one swing at one pitch, and—wait for it—he nailed a single. That’s right, one at-bat, one hit, and boom, a perfect 1.000 batting average. If that doesn’t earn a spot in the Mets Hall of Quirk, nothing does. But it doesn’t stop there. Not only did Liddell nail a hit in his one and only appearance at the plate, he also played one inning behind the plate as a catcher, notching a putout to give him a perfect fielding percentage of—wait for it—1.000.
In other words, Liddell managed to go one-for-one as a hitter and one-for-one as a fielder, leaving behind a career with such pristine stats that even Bill James might pause to recheck his numbers—or have die-hard Strat-O-Matic players kicking themselves for not adding a Dave Liddell card to the 1990 set. Because let’s face it, with a perfect batting average and fielding percentage, he’d be a guaranteed MVP on any fantasy roster. It's the kind of career that leaves you scratching your head and wondering how in the world this guy didn’t become the next Mets legend—or at least land a podcast.
So, let’s dive into the short but sweet career of Dave Liddell, the man who achieved what few will ever dream of: a flawless record in both batting and fielding… all in about 20 seconds.
Dave Liddell’s journey to the big leagues started in Riverside, California, where he grew up and honed his skills as a catcher. After impressing scouts, he was drafted by the Chicago Cubs in the fourth round of the 1984 draft, coming out of Rubidoux High School. It’s worth noting this was also the same draft where the Mets selected Shawn Abner first overall. Abner’s signing bonus—$150,500 —was the highest in baseball history at the time. Unfortunately, Abner’s career didn’t exactly pan out, finishing with a .227 batting average, 191 hits, 11 home runs, and 71 RBIs, earning him a well-deserved spot in the “draft bust” Hall of Fame. Forget about Abner for a second—honestly, all Mets fans would love to forget about him. Liddell’s minor league career began with a rough start in Pikeville, Kentucky, where he hit a dismal .065 in 46 at-bats. But like any good underdog story, Liddell bounced back, improving his batting to .231 in 1985 before moving up the ranks.
Meanwhile, Greg Maddux—yes, that Greg Maddux—was sharing a room with him in the minors, though it’s safe to say Maddux's career was a bit more stellar than Liddell’s at that point. By 1986, Liddell found himself playing for the Peoria Chiefs, where he finally started to show his potential, batting .264 in 37 games. That performance was enough to catch the attention of the Mets, who snatched him up in a trade for pitcher Ed Lynch on June 30, 1986. And just like that, Liddell’s path to the big leagues—well, sort of—was set.
The trade that brought Liddell to the Mets was a big deal for the Cubs, who were scrambling to replace Rick Sutcliffe (the 1984 NL Cy Young Award winner) after he went on the DL. As for Ed Lynch, the veteran pitcher the Mets traded away, well, let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled about the move. The Daily News made sure to mention his disappointment, but when it came to Liddell, they simply tossed in his name like an afterthought, noting he was a 20-year-old catcher playing in the Midwest League.
After the trade, Liddell bounced between minor league teams, including Columbia and Lynchburg, before getting a taste of Double-A ball in 1987. His journey took him through more Single-A teams in 1988, including a stint at Reno, where he hit a career-best .329 in 26 games. That was enough to earn a promotion to the Mets’ Triple-A farm team, Tidewater, in 1989.
At this point, with Gary Carter no spring chicken at 35, there was some hope for Liddell to crack the big league roster. He even got a non-roster invite to spring training in 1989. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. Liddell hit just .151 in 24 games at Tidewater, and the Mets promptly sent him back down to Double-A Jackson. But, like any good underdog story, Liddell wasn't ready to quit. By 1990, he was back in Triple-A with a little more opportunity—Gary Carter was gone, and the Mets were trying out Mackey Sasser as their starter.
Despite his so-so minor league numbers, Liddell found himself back at Tidewater for the 1990 season. With Gary Carter gone, the Mets handed the catching duties to Mackey Sasser, while Liddell became the primary backstop at Tidewater, with Barry Lyons and Orlando Mercado rotating between the minors and the big leagues.
Then, on June 1, 1990, the Mets had to call up Mercado to the majors. Unfortunately, after just one game, Mercado left the team due to the death of his father. With the backup catcher spot open, the Mets turned to Liddell on June 3. By then, Liddell’s struggles at the plate were well-documented, and when his manager, Steve Swisher, came to speak to him, Liddell’s first thought was, "Here we go again—I'm getting sent back to Double-A, right?" Nope. Instead, Swisher told him he was heading to New York.
After six and a half years of grinding in the minors, Liddell was about to get his shot in "The Show." It was a moment he had surely daydreamed about a million times—except now he had to figure out how to catch a major league fastball. No pressure, right?
And so, on that fateful afternoon in Philadelphia, Liddell’s big league moment arrived—albeit in an 8-1 game in which the Mets were getting pounded by the Phillies. With the Mets struggling at the plate and a lefty-hitting Mackey Sasser due to lead off in the eighth, manager Bud Harrelson made the call to send Liddell up as a pinch-hitter against left-handed Pat Combs.
In a game that was already practically over, Mets TV announcers Tim McCarver and Ralph Kiner could barely hide their enthusiasm for the minor league lifer who’d finally made it. And boy, was Liddell excited. His heart must have been pounding like a jackhammer as he stepped into the box. And then—BOOM! He sent a groundball right up the middle for a single, his first major league hit. McCarver’s voice rang out: “How about that!” The fact that Liddell had been hitting a paltry .178 in Double-A Jackson didn’t dampen the moment one bit.
The joy on Liddell’s face as he stood on first base was the kind of raw, unfiltered emotion that only a ballplayer who had spent years in the minors could truly understand. The ball was quickly retrieved and tossed to Dave Magadan in the dugout—so Liddell could keep a souvenir from his big league debut. Kiner, ever the poet, remarked that it was “something that he’ll never forget.”
And, well, he was right. It would be his only major-league hit.
But Dave’s day didn’t end there. He wasn’t done making his mark just yet. After Kevin Elster drew a walk, Liddell moved to second, staying sharp. When Mark Carreon sent a fly ball to Von Hayes in right field, Liddell alertly tagged up and moved to third, putting himself in prime position to score. And score he did, when Pat Combs uncorked a wild pitch that sailed past the catcher. Liddell, never one to waste an opportunity, scampered home. That was the kind of baseball smarts he had honed in the minors—never taking a play off, always looking for the next chance to contribute. Not a bad way to announce yourself on the big stage.
After crossing the plate following that wild pitch, Liddell stayed in the game to catch in the bottom of the eighth, even managing to snag a putout on Julio Machado's strikeout of Tommy Herr. That was it—he finished his big league career with a batting average of 1.000, a run scored and a fielding percentage of 1.000. Not bad for a guy who'd spent most of his time in the minors, right?
The New York Times summed it up neatly, calling his debut “Fine.” Claire Smith wrote, “Dave Liddell, the rookie catcher purchased from Tidewater Saturday, pinch-hit in the eighth and singled, his first major-league hit.” Sadly, it would also be his last. No one could have known then that Liddell's career would be confined to a mere snapshot, but sometimes that’s the way it goes in baseball. A moment of glory, fleeting but unforgettable.
As we wrap up this first installment of Mets Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, let’s take a moment to appreciate the quirky, fleeting moments that make being a Mets fan so unique. Dave Liddell may not have had a long career, but what he accomplished in that one game—well, that’s the stuff baseball lore is made of. A perfect batting average, flawless fielding, and a memorable run scored. Who could ask for more?
So, until next week, when we unearth yet another forgotten face from the depths of Mets history, let’s raise a glass to the players who didn’t always make the headlines but still gave us moments we’ll never forget. And don’t forget to check back every Sunday for more of these “flash in the pan” tales—where every little-known player has a story that deserves to be told. After all, in the world of Mets baseball, if you blink, you might just miss something weird, wild, and totally unforgettable.
Stay tuned, and remember: It’s not just history, it’s Mets history, and it’s always worth revisiting—no pop quiz required!
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