Welcome to the second 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!
After exploring the brief yet unforgettable moment in Mets history with Dave Liddell, in our first installment, we now turn our attention to a player whose story intertwines the baseball diamond with a touch of familial drama worthy of a soap opera. Mike Bruhert wasn’t just another arm in the Mets’ rotation—he was a pitcher who carried the weight of high expectations, the unique distinction of being Mets royalty by marriage, and a fair share of quirky charm.
Bruhert’s path to the Mets wasn’t exactly a tale of high school domination. In fact, calling his pitching career at Christ the King Regional High School in Middle Village, Queens “unremarkable” might be an act of charity—he logged a single win in four seasons. Who says you can’t go from one High School win to a Major League tryout? By day, he scooped ice cream at a local Carvel, and by night, he honed his craft playing sandlot ball. Somewhere between serving soft-serve cones and striking out neighborhood hitters, he caught the attention of scouts in the Queens-Nassau Summer League, earning a tryout at Shea Stadium that would change his life. Think about that for a second—one day you're slinging pitches in a summer league, and the next, you're auditioning on the same field as Tom Seaver. Not too shabby for a guy who only logged one win in high school, right? The Mets must have liked what they saw because they handed him a contract.
But here’s where the story takes a turn from “local boy makes good” to “wait, what?” Shortly after joining the Mets organization, Bruhert started dating Irene Hodges. Yes, that Hodges—daughter of Gil Hodges, the legendary Mets manager and all-around baseball royalty. It’s one thing to chase your dreams on the diamond; it’s another to date the boss's daughter. But Bruhert handled it like a pro (or at least better than most of us would). By the time he was scooped up by the Philadelphia Phillies in the Rule 5 draft in November 1972, he and Irene were already engaged.
As for his stint with the Phillies, it didn’t last long. After spring training in 1973, they sent him right back to the Mets. Maybe they figured he belonged in New York—or maybe they realized there was something poetic about keeping a player with ties to Mets royalty in the fold, even after Gil had tragically passed away in 1972. Either way, Bruhert was back where he started, ready to continue his climb through the Mets’ system.
After grinding it out in the Mets’ farm system for what probably felt like seven "dog" years, Mike Bruhert finally got the call to the big leagues in 1978. His minor league record—a not-so-flashy 38–51 with a respectable 3.69 ERA—wasn’t exactly screaming “future Cy Young winner,” but hey, perseverance pays off. On April 9, 1978, in the second game of a doubleheader against the Montreal Expos, Bruhert took the mound for his MLB debut. Six innings, one earned run (two unearned), and a tough-luck loss later, he had officially arrived.
The baseball gods didn’t make him wait long for a win. In his very next start, he picked up his first major league victory against the St. Louis Cardinals, proving that he could hold his own on the mound. But the real gem of his lone season in the majors came on September 17, when Bruhert pitched a masterpiece—a complete game shutout against the Phillies. He fanned five batters, gave up just four hits, and probably had the Phillies kicking themselves, muttering, "Wait, didn’t we have this guy and send him back?"
Bruhert’s lone season in the majors wrapped up with a 4-11 record, a 4.78 ERA, and 56 strikeouts—a stat line that may not scream “ace material” but was solid enough for a Mets team navigating the late '70s doldrums. In 1979, the Mets shipped him off to Texas along with Bob Myrick in exchange for Dock Ellis, a pitcher with a far more colorful resume (remember, this was the guy who allegedly pitched a no-hitter while tripping on LSD).
Bruhert found himself toiling in the Rangers’ farm system, posting a 9-10 record with a 5.58 ERA, but he never made it back to the big leagues. His playing career took a detour through the Yankees’ organization in 1981 and 1982, where he suited up for the Columbus Clippers, their International League affiliate. There, he put up a respectable 11-7 record with a 3.69 ERA, a nice capstone to his career on the mound.
After wrapping up his playing days, Bruhert traded the pitcher's mound for the coach’s box, taking on the role of pitching coach at Fordham University. It was a fitting next chapter for a guy who’d seen it all—from the spotlight at Shea to the grind of minor league bus rides. While his big-league career was brief, his love for the game endured, and he found a way to pass that passion on to a new crop of hopefuls.
So there it is—Mike Bruhert, a name that might not ring bells for most Mets fans, but his tale is one of determination, fate, and a scoop of Mets magic, with a side of soft serve from Carvel. From his high school struggles to pitching a shutout in the majors, and from marrying into Mets royalty to coaching the next generation, Bruhert's journey is a reminder that baseball is as much about the stories as it is the stats.
If you’re enjoying these deep dives into the Mets' forgotten faces, make sure to pencil us in for next week’s class at Mets Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing. Each Sunday, we’ll revisit the players who might not have made the Hall of Fame but earned their spot in the quirky, unpredictable history of this franchise. So, dust off those old baseball cards, keep your sense of humor handy, and join us as we celebrate the Mets' past—warts, wins, and all. See you next Sunday!