Howard Johnson, one of the most underrated players in team history, a worthy Mets Hall of Famer
Sure, all the home runs and stolen bases come up in conversations about Howard Johnson. But so do hotfoots, huge plastic glasses full of iced tea and an endearing, happy-go-lucky personality.
Former Mets delight in talking about Johnson, whether it’s Bobby Ojeda noting that when he thinks of HoJo’s playing days, “I think of a dirty uniform” or Ron Darling recalling Johnson’s prodigious strength: “Pound for pound, the strongest player I ever played with.”
David Wright was never Johnson’s teammate, but their relationship is a lasting link spanning Met generations — as a coach, Johnson had an outsized impact on one of the best Mets ever. And he and Wright became lifelong friends.
“Without his mentorship, I would never have realized the potential I didn’t even know I had,” Wright says. “Even when I doubted my own abilities, he was the first one to pump me up.
“He had an incredible playing career and then for him to show up in Port St. Lucie when it’s about 150 degrees — he could be doing a million other things instead of sweating with me — it meant the world to me.”
For all that and much more, Johnson, 62, is among those being recognized by the Mets on Saturday, June 3. HoJo, along with ace Al Leiter and broadcasters Gary Cohen and Howie Rose, will be inducted into the Mets Hall of Fame during a ceremony at Citi Field before a 4:10 p.m. game against Toronto. Longtime Mets media relations director Jay Horwitz, now the team’s historian, will be presented with the Mets Hall of Fame Achievement Award.
It’s a nifty bit of recognition for Johnson, a third baseman who might be the most underrated Met in club history. He hit 30-plus homers and stole 30-plus bases in the same season in 1987, 1989 and 1991, making him one of only four players in MLB history to have accomplished that feat at least three times. When Johnson did it a second time in 1989, Johnson, Bobby Bonds and Willie Mays — Willie Mays! — were the only players who had achieved 30-30 more than once.
In 1987, Johnson slugged 36 homers, breaking a 53-year-old NL record for home runs by a switch-hitter. Four years after taking that mark from Ripper Collins of the Cardinals, HoJo bested his own record by hitting 38.
That’s the same year he became the first Met to lead the NL in RBI. Johnson dots the Mets’ record books — he’s fourth in career home runs (192), for instance. Johnson stole 202 bases for the Mets, making him one of only three Mets ever with at least 200 steals, along with Jose Reyes (408) and Mookie Wilson (281).
“When I see some of it, I can’t believe I actually did that,” Johnson says. “It’s nice to be mentioned in a good group of players. I know Pete [Alonso] is going to pass me [in home runs — Alonso is 27 behind as of Friday].
“Maybe even this year.”
Still, Johnson left a lasting mark on the Mets. His career was, he says, “supercharged” by the deal that brought him from Detroit for pitcher Walt Terrell after the 1984 season. “It’s one of [Frank] Cashen’s great trades,” says Keith Hernandez. “That one is overlooked.”
Those Tigers were a juggernaut in ‘84, roaring to a World Series title. Johnson didn’t know how quickly he’d be part of another ‘80s behemoth, the 1986 Mets. But he was happy for a new opportunity.
“It opened a whole new avenue for me,” Johnson says. “I could show off some skills — running. One of the first things Davey [Johnson] told me was, ‘You’re on your own stealing.’ It was very liberating.”
“It was a remarkable thing that we got him,” says Davey Johnson, who managed those great Mets teams of the 1980s. “Tremendous power. Great arm — I told him, “HoJo, you got a cannon, baby.’”
Johnson struggled batting from the right side, and the third-base job went from a platoon of sorts with Ray Knight to Knight mostly taking over. Johnson only played 88 games that season, but Knight left the Mets after ‘86.
Johnson recalls Whitey Herzog, the manager of the rival Cardinals, constantly bringing in lefty pitchers to face him. “I knew that was my main flaw, but I didn’t want to give up switch-hitting,” Johnson says. “It made me more dynamic. So I worked my rear end off.”
“He made himself into a good right-handed hitter,” Hernandez says. “That was his greatest accomplishment, as far as I’m concerned.”
“When we lost Knight, he really blossomed,” adds Ojeda. “He didn’t crack under the pressure of replacing him. He just did his job like an All-Star and, I wouldn’t say it went unnoticed, but it did not get the attention it should have. He never self-promoted. Had he, there’d be a HoJo ice cream stand at Citi Field.
“The guy loves ice cream.”
And iced tea. “I was with him about a month ago. He had instant ice tea with him,” Wilson says, laughing. “He’s still drinking his iced tea.”
Johnson generates warm feelings from myriad former Mets. Darling calls him “good-natured” and then notes how unusual that was for the mid-’80s Mets. “Those teams tended to be a little grouchier,” Darling says.
Still, Johnson could make his teammates laugh.
“Great sense of humor. He’s a character,” Hernandez says. “He was part of Roger [McDowell] and the hotfoot. They were collaborators in crime. They got Bill Robinson [the hitting coach] I remember.”
Did they ever get Hernandez? “No,” Hernandez said. “They wouldn’t dare.”
While the Mets did not win another World Series after ‘86, Johnson emerged from the star shadows of the big-name Mets. He was an All-Star in both 1989 and 1991 and kept thriving, all while going full-speed, Ojeda says.
“He never half-stepped a play,” Ojeda recalls. “If the team needed a knock, he went for it. If the team needed a jack, he was going to get it. A base? He would steal it. He was a catalyst, built like a truck. He didn’t have a six-pack — he had a 12-pack.”
It wasn’t all smooth. “Injuries crept in,” Johnson says. Herzog and several other opposing managers accused Johnson of corking his bat, too. “They took my bat out of the game six or seven times and X-rayed it and it was clean,” HoJo says. “That’s kind of case closed. But I understand it. When you see big jumps — People asked if I did steroids. They think you can’t do it yourself. No, that’s not the case.
“The corked bat, that was mostly gamesmanship. I ran into Whitey in a hallway at Shea once and he said, ‘Hey, you know I’m just messing with you when I do that stuff with your bat.’ I think that was his way of saying, ‘I respect you.’ It made me respect him. I already did — he and Davey were masters at pushing the right buttons.”
Johnson heard trade rumors, too, even as he starred. One time, he was going to Seattle for ace Mark Langston; another, he was going to be dealt for Kevin McReynolds.
Any regrets? “As I’ve gotten older and watched players play longer and, even though I took care of my body well, I wish I had done more,” Johnson says. “I’m not a big, big person, so there was wear and tear on me. My style of play maybe shortened my career. I don’t know if I could’ve changed that.
“I went ‘til the batteries ran out.”
There’s another thing — after the ‘93 season, Johnson had a chance to reunite with Davey Johnson in Cincinnati. Knight was one of the Reds’ coaches and he left HoJo a long message on his answering machine, telling him he should join them. “The tape ran out on it,” Johnson says. But more money loomed in Colorado, so he went there.
“I should’ve gone with Davey — he knew me better than anyone,” Johnson says now. “My wife was pushing me in that direction. I should’ve thought about it harder. I should’ve prayed on it more.”
He played 93 games with the Rockies in 1994 and 87 with the Cubs the next year and retired at 35. He tried a brief Mets comeback in 1997, but it fizzled.
Nowadays, Johnson runs the Showtime Sports Academy in Franklin, Tenn., with his son, Glen. He enjoys teaching hitting there and does clinics, too. A recent one was in Darien, Conn. “It feeds the baseball side,” Johnson says.
So will the Mets Hall of Fame Induction. Johnson’s whole family is coming — each of his three kids has two children of their own. Another grandchild is on the way.
“I’m so glad he’s getting this honor,” Wright says. “I think he’s incredibly underrated…Going into his house, when he’d invite me over to grill out in spring training, everything was ‘Mets.’ He really cherishes his connection to the Mets.”
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