- [Clara] Bobby Bonilla playing for the New York Mets
could've been the triumphant story
of a New York City kid making it big
and being the hero of his home city,
but instead it was not exactly that.
(pensive music)
After six years with the Pirates,
Bobby Bonilla had built up a resume
that made him the most desirable free agent in 1991.
Clubs across the country
were falling all over themselves to woo him.
He met with the Phillies and they were like,
"Hey, what's your next stop? The Mets?
We'll give you a limo ride to New York
if that would make you like us."
He got lots of offers for lots of money
and in the end, Bobby landed with the highest bidder.
His New York Mets contract
made him the best-paid player in baseball.
A lot to spend, but it looked like a good call for the Mets.
After losing Darryl Strawberry to free agency in 1990,
they were in need of a big hitter and a leader.
They believed Bobby Bonilla was the guy
to get 'em back on top.
And it certainly didn't hurt that Bonilla
was a clean-cut, smiling face to put out front
and help distance themselves from years of drug controversy.
Making the fit seem even better,
Bonilla was born and raised in the Bronx.
He told the press he knew New York
could be an unforgiving place to play,
but he'd be all right in his hometown.
It'd be, quote, "hard to knock the smile from his face."
Two weeks into the season,
Mets fans were booing Bobby Bonilla.
He wasn't living up to his $29 million paycheck,
which, I mean, has gotta be pretty hard to do,
but Bonilla wasn't even close.
By the end of May, he'd only hit five home runs,
none of them at home.
In fact, he was batting just .131 at Shea Stadium.
Bonilla's attempts to handle the negativity
just made it easier and more rewarding to hate him.
Like when we asked about the boos and responded,
"I'm not playing for the fans.
I'm playing for the New York Mets organization."
That's not gonna make anyone boo less.
And then his quote got a bit twisted
in the grapevine of the media
and the sentiment became, "Bobby Bonilla doesn't like fans."
Angry, Bonilla threatened to boycott the media.
That's bound to get them on his side, right?
Hope so, 'cause a few nights later,
Bonilla wore earplugs during a game.
A home game.
TV cameras noted the earplugs, zoomed in,
and the media ran with the story.
Bobby Bo wore earplugs to block out the hometown boos.
Bonilla claimed it was to block out airplane noise
and help him concentrate at the plate,
but he also wore them on the field.
And they didn't help him at the plate.
Nobody believed or even wanted to believe Bonilla.
The stress of being both bad and hated
caused Bobby to overeat and gain weight,
which was not received kindly.
As the season wore on he grew more defensive
and volatile with reporters.
It's hard to imagine things getting worse for Bobby Bo,
but that's because the human imagination has limits.
In a game at the end of June,
the Mets were losing to the Cubs 7-0
at the top of the first.
Bonilla was mad.
Not because of the score,
but because he was assessed an error.
He was so mad, in fact, that in the bottom of the first
he called up the press box and demanded to know
the name of the official scorer who recorded that error.
Caring about your personal stats more than your team
during a game that sucks is a bad look,
even if fans don't already hate you,
but, of course, they did.
Facing heat after the game,
Bonilla did the only thing he could:
admit nothing and stage a far-fetched coverup
that insulted everyone's intelligence.
He claimed his phone call to the press box
was merely to inquire about the health
of PR director Jay Horwitz, who had a cold.
Horwitz confirmed the story.
They're not even claiming a bad cold; just a cold.
Manager Jeff Torborg pled ignorance to the whole thing,
but eyewitnesses, aka the other Mets players,
disproved the ruse.
Bonilla called to complain about his error;
both Horwitz and Torborg knew it.
Nobody believed Bonilla for a second.
The next day saw a weak attempt at damage control
and I understand Bonilla's will to fight.
If you're drowning, you grab anything in hopes it'll float,
even if it's an anchor.
Or a shark
that's already biting you.
Flailing around for a flotation device,
Bonilla said the whole Horwitz cold story was just a joke,
oh my god, how could you guys not get that?
So what was the phone call about?
No point telling the media because they...
Wouldn't believe him?
Bonilla was sinking fast.
Perhaps mercifully, his '92 season ended in early September
with a shoulder injury,
which you'd think might elicit some sympathy.
Nah.
The New York Daily News ran a full-page cartoon of him
as a giant screaming baby,
which was actually a blessing in disguise.
Bonilla was livid at first,
but after his wife was like, "This is (beep) hilarious,"
I'm paraphrasing, of course,
Bobby realized, yeah, it was kinda funny.
He gained a new outlook and decided next season,
he wasn't gonna let fans or the media mess with him.
He was ready for a fresh start.
And then he threatened a reporter
who had written both a derogatory book about the Mets
as well as an article implying
Bobby was lazy in spring training.
The article kinda held Bonilla's injury
and an illness against him, which isn't totally fair,
but you still can't do this.
- Make your move, partner.
'Cause I'll hurt you.
- [Clara] Hey, at least Bonilla started
playing better baseball.
Sure, he still made headlines for doing stuff
like cursing out the third base coach
over a miscommunication.
And sure, fans still resented his $29 million contract,
some enough to charge the field and lose a few bucks.
But by July of '95, Bonilla was the Mets' best bat.
Unfortunately the Mets were 32-52 and needed a change.
They traded Bonilla to the Orioles.
When eulogizing Bonilla the Met,
the media didn't spend too much time
on his batting improvement,
instead remembering him for his worst moments.
At least New York and Bonilla were rid of each other.
For three years.
In '98 the Mets brought him back.
There was some risk of repeating history,
but New York needed offense
and Bonilla had won a World Series while he was gone,
so let's give the guy another chance.
Bonilla got injured in spring training
and again at the start of May.
The injuries weren't Bonilla's fault,
but they did set in motion our second course of beef.
Bonilla thought he was healthy
days before manager Bobby Valentine put him back in.
Why?
Because the subs stepping up for injured vets
had been doing well,
especially compared to Bonilla's production
in the few games he was healthy for.
Bobby did return May 31st and knocked one out of the park.
But fans didn't really care.
They didn't like seeing hot Cedeno on the bench,
as evidenced in the following game.
Bonilla didn't hit a home run, or anything,
and fans were merciless.
When Cedeno replaced him in the ninth,
the crowd rose to its feet in response.
The Mets attempted to quietly fix their logjam
and put Bonilla on irrevocable waivers,
which means if another team wanted him, he was gone.
If not, the Mets keep him
and Bonilla never finds out they shopped him.
Nobody picked him up, probably 'cause of his large contract
and minimal production, but little wrinkle:
there was a leak and Bonilla found out
the Mets tried to get rid of him.
He responded with his unique brand of aloof anger
and we got a slightly new flavor of beef.
In his first stint with the Mets
it was the media and fans versus Bonilla,
but he had the support of the organization.
The manager and PR guy lied for him and everything.
But now Bonilla's beef extended to his own club.
On Monday, June 7th,
Valentine announced he was taking Bonilla
out of the four-man outfield rotation.
The next night Valentine wanted Bonilla to pinch hit
and Bonilla said no, for revenge.
He later claimed it was because of an injured wrist,
but nobody bought it.
Then the next day Valentine refused to play Bonilla,
even though due to other players' injuries,
he kinda need Bonilla to pinch hit.
Seems Valentine was just as strong-willed as Bobby Bo.
Yeah, he definitely was.
As they argued, Valentine told Bonilla
he'd rather have a coach on the field than him.
The Mets were tired of Bobby Bo and didn't need him,
but they also couldn't get rid of him.
With that big contract, a trade was unlikely.
And Bonilla, just being a really fun, cool guy,
said he'd wreck any trade he didn't like
by claiming he needed wrist surgery.
The Mets considered releasing him,
but then they'd have to eat his contract.
So Bonilla stayed on as pinch hitter,
but by July he was back on the disabled list with tendonitis
and you know he didn't get any sympathy.
Well, at least on the DL he can't make things worse, right?
(Clara sighs)
July 9th, Mets were playing the Yankees
and Bonilla left the clubhouse,
entered the dugout, and screamed at Valentine
for not retaliating to a Clemens brushback.
Valentine told Bonilla to get his ass back in the clubhouse
where he'd been for the past two weeks.
Bonilla then challenged Valentine to a physical fight,
Valentine refused, probably for the best,
and the furious Bonilla had to find another way
to release his anger.
In the aftermath, GM Steve Phillips downplayed the incident
and said Bonilla wasn't a distraction,
and I guess that was true,
'cause the Mets made it to the NLCS.
In the final innings of series-losing Game 6,
while the Mets tried and failed to hang onto a one-run lead,
Bobby Bonilla and Rickey Henderson left the game
and played cards in the clubhouse.
Everyone absolutely hated it.
And the future looked bleak.
At an offseason charity bowling event,
Bonilla said he'd make himself a distraction
if the Mets benched him again.
With basically no other option, the Mets released Bonilla,
which meant they'd have to pay out
the remaining $5.9 million left on his contract.
But they didn't have to pay him right away.
The Mets deferred Bonilla's contract,
which meant they wouldn't start paying him
the $5.9 million until 2011.
Now, of course, they'd have to pay Bobby interest
and the two parties agreed to an 8% annual interest rate,
meaning Bobby Bo would collect $28.9 million over 25 years.
That's why they say patience is a virtue.
Obviously Bonilla agreed to this deal
because he's gonna get a lot more money in the long run,
but why'd the Mets agree to it?
Well, they might have wanted to free up money right away
to build on the momentum of the '99 season,
but perhaps a bigger impetus:
they had an investment scheme
that was earning them more than 8% interest a year.
All they had to do was continue to put blind trust
in a finance whiz named...
Bernie Madoff.
Whoops.
And, um, the Mets still had to pay Bobby
more than a million bucks every July 1st from 2011 to 2035.
And thus Bobby Bonilla Day was born,
a holiday in which baseball fans mock the Mets
and Bobby Bo buys himself something nice.
Ostensibly.
Sure, other non-mocked deferred contracts exist in sports,
but this one is particularly make-fun-able
for a few reasons.
One, Bonilla caused nothing but trouble as a Met, twice.
Two, the owners had believed Madoff was magic or something.
And three, Bonilla was collecting relatively so much money.
For example, in 2016,
Bonilla took home more than the Mets' best pitchers.
There is an argument to be made
that we shouldn't mock the Mets
because the deal actually kinda worked out for them.
With the savings from deferring Bonilla's contract
they were able to secure Mike Hampton in 2000
and that helped them to the World Series, so that's nice.
And when Hampton left,
the Mets got a draft pick that yielded David Wright.
Maybe none of that would've happened
if they had to pay Bonilla right away.
But who wants to play the maybe this, maybe that game?
It's too hypothetical and not as fun as a hatred holiday.
Mets fans do get some sense of victory in this beef.
They got to go to the World Series, get David Wright,
and continue the robust tradition of hating Bonilla.
But, I mean, come on, there's no question who won this beef.
He turned $5.9 million into $30 million.
Maybe he wishes he could've been
the New York City hometown hero,
beloved by everyone all the time,
but maybe embarrassing the team
that put too much pressure on him the first time around,
then benched him the second time around
is more satisfying than universal love.
Also: the money.
Congratulations, Bobby Bonilla, King of the Beef.
Hey, everybody, thank you so much for watching.
Please feel free to subscribe.
And let's keep this party going.
We've got more Mets and we've got more beef.
For Secret Base, I'm Clara Morris.
Goodnight and good game.
(pensive music)