I listened in the darkness as” the Franchise” took the hill.
Tom Seaver, perfect, through eight innings, had retired Cubs at will.
I could barely hear Bob Murphy’s voice; Shea was packed that night.
Santo, Banks and Spangler, all went down without a fight.
Randy Hundley led off the ninth, he was victim Twenty-Five.
The stands were like a roaring sea, electric and alive.
Jimmy Qualls came up to bat, a rookie, little known.
Every Mets fan felt for sure that Tom would bring it home.
Seaver looked in for the sign; Grote called for heat.
Qualls lined a clean single and a hushed quiet filled the seats.
Seaver felt deflated as the crowd stood in ovation.
As well as he had pitched that night was it wrong to seek perfection?
Seaver finished off the Cubs that night; Qualls' was the only hit.
That night would have been perfect if that ball had found a mitt.