Mets Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing #14: Bear Down: The Underrated Met Career of Danny Frisella

Welcome to the fourteenth installment of Mets Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, where we dig through the archives (and the occasional dog-eared scorecard) to revisit the players who once donned the orange and blue but have since faded into the background of Mets history. These are the names you might not find in Cooperstown—but they still left their mark at Shea, Citi, the Polo Grounds, and beyond.

Last week, we took a look at Frank Taveras, a speedster who brought chaos on the basepaths and a bit of unpredictability to the Mets' infield. Though he never quite became the next great shortstop in Queens, Taveras left an imprint with his wheels and his glove.

This week, we turn our attention to Danny Frisella, one of my favorite Mets early on in my fandom. A sidearming right-hander with a wicked sinker, Frisella carved out a role as a dependable reliever for the Mets in the late 1960s and early ’70s. Though his time in Flushing was overshadowed by bigger names on the pitching staff, Frisella’s contributions out of the bullpen were invaluable.

So grab a seat, dust off those old scorebooks, and let’s get to work!

This week, we turn our attention to Danny Frisella, one of my favorite Mets early on in my fandom. A sidearming right-hander with a wicked sinker, Frisella carved out a role as a dependable reliever for the Mets in the late 1960s and early ’70s. Though his time in Flushing was overshadowed by bigger names on the pitching staff, Frisella’s contributions out of the bullpen were invaluable.

Danny Frisella wasn’t just another arm in the Mets’ pitching factory—he was a key cog in their bullpen machine from 1970 to 1972. Nicknamed “Bear” for his stocky build, Frisella had a deceptive, sidewinding delivery that left batters flailing at his signature sinker.

Born in San Francisco on March 4, 1946, Frisella had a blue-collar upbringing as the son of a firefighter and an Irish-American mother. He first made a name for himself at Serra High School in San Mateo before heading to college, initially at the College of San Mateo and later at Washington State University. While there, he twice led his team to division titles and earned All-Conference honors.

The Braves drafted him in 1965, but he opted to stay in school for another year, spending that summer playing for the Fairbanks Goldpanners in Alaska. His teammate? A guy named Tom Seaver, who, like Frisella, turned down Atlanta’s offer. The two future Mets hurlers helped power the Goldpanners to a state championship before Frisella entered the draft again in 1966, this time landing with the Mets, who wasted no time signing him.

While he had a solid curveball, Frisella wasn’t overpowering, which led to an up-and-down early career. He bounced between the majors, minors, and Air National Guard duty, making his Mets debut in July 1967. He started 11 games that season—more than he would start in the rest of his big-league career combined. The Mets soon realized his stuff played better in relief, and by 1970, he had settled into the bullpen, where he thrived.

After a couple of brief major league stints in ’67 and ’68, Frisella barely got a sniff of the 1969 Miracle Mets season, logging just 4 2/3 innings during a July call-up. But his luck changed that winter when he picked up a new weapon: the forkball. He learned the pitch from Diego Segui while playing winter ball in Venezuela, and it became the missing piece in his arsenal. By 1970, Frisella was in the majors for good, carving out a niche as Tug McGraw’s right-handed bullpen mate.

His breakout year came in 1971, when he posted a sparkling 1.72 ERA in the first half and locked down five saves before the All-Star break. He had some memorable moments along the way, including wiggling out of a bases-loaded jam against the Braves by getting Orlando Cepeda to ground out. Though a sore shoulder slowed him down in the second half, he still finished the year with a 1.99 ERA, 12 saves, and 92 strikeouts over 90 2/3 innings.

The injury bug bit again in 1972, and though he still managed nine saves, his numbers took a dip. That winter, he was shipped to Atlanta alongside his roommate Gary Gentry in a trade that brought Felix Millan and George Stone to the Mets—a deal that worked out great for New York but not so much for Frisella. He struggled with the Braves, posting a career-high 4.67 ERA over two seasons before being dealt to San Diego for Cito Gaston. A change of scenery did him good—his 3.13 ERA in 1975 was one of his best seasons, even if his 1-6 record didn’t show it.

Frisella faced some of the game’s biggest names and, in true reliever fashion, had his share of wins and losses. Against Pete Rose, one of the toughest outs in baseball history, Frisella gave up eight hits in 22 at-bats (.364), but at least he kept Charlie Hustle in the park. Johnny Bench, on the other hand, struggled against him, hitting just .133 in 15 at-bats with six strikeouts. Hall of Famer Joe Morgan did some damage, batting .471 with a .765 slugging percentage, proving that even a nasty forkball couldn't fool everyone.

Frisella fared well against Willie Stargell, holding him to a .200 average with six strikeouts in 15 at-bats, but Tony Pérez got the better of him, slugging .722 with two home runs. Rusty Staub also had success, hitting .318 with a .990 OPS.

For every batter he dominated, there was another who gave him headaches, but that’s life in the bullpen. One day you’re striking out Dick Allen, and the next, you’re watching Chris Speier leg out an extra-base hit. But through it all, Frisella battled, making life tough for some of the best hitters of his era.

After the Padres, he bounced around, making stops in St. Louis and Milwaukee in 1976, where he rediscovered his groove and notched 10 saves for the Brewers. Just as it looked like he might have a few more solid years left in the tank, tragedy struck. On New Year’s Day in 1977, Frisella was riding a dune buggy near his Phoenix home when the vehicle started to tip. In an attempt to jump clear, his foot got caught, and he was crushed by the roll bar. He was just 30 years old.

Frisella left behind his wife, Pamela, and two sons—one of whom was born after his passing—as well as a jewelry business the couple had started to prepare for life after baseball. His career might not have been Hall of Fame material, but for a few years in Queens, he was as reliable as they came.

Though Danny Frisella’s name may not echo through Mets history like Seaver or Koosman, his time in Flushing was defined by grit, guts, and a devastating sinker that kept hitters off balance. He was the kind of reliever who didn’t always make headlines but was essential to the team’s success. And while his life was tragically cut short, those who saw him pitch remember the fire, the fight, and the forkball that made him a force on the mound. Forgotten? Not by those who truly know Mets history.