Mets Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing #16: Rod Kanehl "He Can’t Play, But He’ll Be All Right"

Welcome to the sixteenth installment of Mets Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, where we rummage through the attic of Mets history like we’re searching for that one missing Strat-O-Matic card. These are the players who didn’t get the bobblehead, the plaque, or the dramatic career retrospective narrated by Bob Costas—but for a few innings, a few months, or just a few at-bats, they were Mets.

Last week, we rode a glitter cannon through the career of Tsuyoshi Shinjo, a man who made more headlines with his hair dye than his batting average. This week, we pivot from neon lights to blue-collar grit. From the first Japanese-born position player to… the guy who once got mistaken for a reliever at a team hotel.

Let’s talk about Rod Kanehl—the original Met everyman, a utility man who made up for what he lacked in talent with hustle, heart, and just enough chaos to become Casey Stengel’s favorite oddball.

Kanehl wasn’t born to play baseball so much as he willed himself into it. A career minor leaguer who finally broke through in 1962 at the tender age of 28—right in time to join the Mets for their inaugural season, which went about as well as a flat tire on the Grand Central. That team lost 120 games, but Rod Kanehl never lost his hustle. If the Mets were a mess, Kanehl was the guy with a mop.

He didn’t do anything exceptionally well—but he did everything. He played second base, third base, outfield, pinch ran, pinch hit, probably offered to do laundry. He batted .241 in that first year, hit six home runs, and got on base just enough to avoid being turned into a trivia question. His uniform was perpetually dirty. His cap never fit quite right. And if there was a wall to run into, Kanehl found it.

There’s a legendary story—one of those too-good-to-fact-check ones—about Kanehl leaping over a fence during a game to chase down a foul ball. Not catch it. Chase it. The ball landed in the seats. Kanehl crashed into the railing. The crowd gave him a standing ovation anyway. Because that was Kanehl: all gas, no grace.

Casey Stengel loved him like a grandfather loves the grandkid who draws all over the walls but hugs him afterward. He once said of Kanehl, “He can’t play, but he busts his back for you,and I'll bet he'll be all right."

That, right there, might be the most perfect description of Rod Kanehl—and maybe of Mets fandom itself. He can't play but he'll be all right !

In the spring of 1962, Rod Kanehl found himself once again attending a major league camp as a non-roster invitee. Though he wasn't on the official roster, his gritty, hustle-driven style—a brand of play that earned him the nickname "Hot Rod"—had already made an impression on manager Casey Stengel. That same tenacity soon resonated with the Mets’ front office. Kanehl further endeared himself to fans during a spring training game televised back to New York, when he came off the bench and, with a check swing, lined a dramatic two-run double in the ninth inning off Dodgers ace Sandy Koufax. The clutch hit tied the game, and the Mets would go on to win—cementing Kanehl's place in the hearts of early fans. Just a week later, he edged out Joe Christopher to claim the final spot on the Opening Day roster, becoming one of the select few to wear the uniform as an Original Met.

Kanehl only played three seasons in the majors, all of them with the Mets. He hit .241 over 340 games, with just six home runs and 47 RBIs. Yes he only hit six home runs—but oh, what a collection they were. The pitchers he took deep? Not your run-of-the-mill mop-up guys. Between them, they had 27 combined All-Star appearances. That’s not a fluke—that’s a résumé highlight.

Let’s roll the tape: his first dinger as a Met came off Billy Pierce, a future Hall of Famer and seven-time All-Star. A month later, he unloaded a grand slam off Bobby Shantz, the 1952 AL MVP,it was the first grand slam in franchise history. Then came Bob Friend, a four-time All-Star, and, just for fun, he added a bomb against Don Drysdale—a nine-time All-Star and future Cooperstown enshrinee. In 1963, he went yard off Johnny Podres, the man who helped end Brooklyn’s baseball curse, and finally, in 1964, he tagged Roger Craig, who might not have been an All-Star, but sure knew how to eat innings (and losses) for the early Mets But the numbers were never the point. The guy had heart, and New York—especially when Shea Stadium was in its creaky infancy—could always use a little more of that.

When the Mets didn’t invite him back for 1965, he was devastated. So was Stengel. Rod bounced around the minors a bit, did some coaching, and eventually left the game for good. He ran a swimming pool business. Lived a quiet life. A humble end for a humble ballplayer.

Looking back on his days with the New York Mets during a 2003 radio interview, Rod Kanehl spoke with genuine fondness and appreciation—especially when it came to his relationship with manager Casey Stengel. After spending eight years in the Yankees’ farm system, Kanehl credited Stengel with recognizing his potential and giving him a shot during the Mets’ inaugural 1962 season. He remembered Stengel as a sharp baseball mind who always looked out for his players, doing what he could to help them succeed and be seen as valuable. Far from the clownish persona sometimes portrayed in the media, Kanehl described Stengel as witty, practical, and fiercely loyal to his team. He recalled that Stengel had a deal with the press: criticize the club if you must, but leave the individual players alone. As for Kanehl himself, becoming an Original Met meant everything. He played alongside legends like Richie Ashburn, Gil Hodges, and Marvelous Marv Throneberry (his roommate), and while the team struggled, he remembered them as competitive and full of heart—just lacking the pitching depth to match.

He passed away in 2004, at the age of 70. Not many people noticed. But Mets Sunday School is here to remember.

Rod Kanehl will never be in Cooperstown. He’s not a trivia answer. He doesn’t show up on highlight reels or anniversary montages. But if you were there in ’62, or '63, or '64, you remember him. You remember the guy who always ran hard to first, who played like every day was his last on the roster—because most days, it nearly was.

And that’s what makes Kanehl special. In a franchise filled with stars and stumbles, he was a scrappy, scuffed-up heartbeat. The kind of guy who reminds us why we fell in love with this absurd, beautiful game in the first place.

So here’s to Rod Kanehl—the forgotten face who wore the Mets uniform like it was stitched onto his soul.

See you next Sunday. Bring a glove and a scorecard. We’ve got more ghosts to unearth.