Bad company

While they may picture themselves as The Avengers or The Justice League coming to save us from rising egg prices and DEI hiring practices, the next administration’s cabinet appointments, a cavalcade of the weird and unqualified, seem more reminiscent of the old Marvel super-villain teams, dangerous but ultimately second-rate bad guys with dubious superpowers, laughable costumes and names. 

Any of these names are probably available at the right price for a plaque nailed to this next cabinet’s clubhouse door. 

The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants: Super-villains team brought together by ideology: mutant superiority (homo superior) over humans (homo sapiens). Magneto recruited Scarlet Witch and

Quicksilver by rescuing them from an angry mob in their “Central European” home. Mastermind, a John Carradine lookalike, had a creepy interest in the much younger Scarlet Witch. Toad’s name described his springy bouncing ability and how he toadied up to Magneto. Magneto wasn’t much on team building; the Brotherhood quarreled endlessly. 

Sinister Six: A team-up of some Spider-Man’s initial rogue’s gallery: Sandman and Electro (with no lessons learned, both would join other subsequent super-villain teams), plus Mysterio, Kraven the Hunter, de facto leader Dr. Octopus and the Vulture. Together, they never add up to anything greater than the sum of their raw talent as they insist on going after Spidey individually and not as a united front. 

Frightful Four: The Wizard, Sandman and the immortal Paste Pot Pete (who changed his name to the Trapster to keep superheroes from laughing themselves silly) couldn’t beat the Human Torch singly in any of his early solo adventures, yet somehow when they added Medusa of the Inhumans they defeated the Fantastic Four once and had them on the ropes a second time, a storyline that launched a two-year run of issues of the Fantastic Four that to my mind has always been The Great American Comic Book Novel. 

Emissaries of Evil: Daredevil’s laughable archenemies band together to no effect. Electro and the Gladiator, with twin circular saws on his wrists could be formidable, but the rest of this crew? The Matador would throw his cape over a foe’s head to create confusion. Scary. Stilt Man wore a telescoping device on his legs that extended his height. That’s it. Top-heavy at best, he may be the dumbest villain concept ever except for another Emissary of Evil, Leap Frog with his exoskeleton frog costume, complete with webbed feet. 

The Fellowship of Fear: Mr. Fear’s contribution was fear pheromones from gas pellets shot from a special gun. According to an online Marvel database, he recruited Ox and The Eel primarily because of their low intelligence, making them easier to control. The Eel was a classic Marvel second-banana bad guy. Ox was Lenny from Of Mice and Men. The sightless (but with other senses enhanced Daredevil) knows Ox is around by his heavy breathing and “cheap hair tonic” – the first time Vitalis contributed to the bring down of a super-villain team.

One final last at bat

On October 6, 1985, at Shea Stadium against the Montreal Expos, Rusty Staub was the final batter of the Mets’ season.

The Mets will finish second place and with Darryl Strawberry (23 years old, 27 home runs) and Dwight Gooden (20 years old, 24-4 record), anchoring a young and talented team, the Mets are primed for promise.

Almost in anticipation of ticker-tape parades to come, the fans are shredding paper and throwing it onto the field: hot dog wrappers, pages torn from programs, newspapers, toilet paper, falling to the ground or getting swept up into a current circling the inside of Shea Stadium.

From WWOR's game broadcast, 10/6/85

Staub watches paper falling through the air and fouls off the first two pitches, then takes a ball. Indifferent ownership, the inability to get funding for a new stadium, dropping attendance and other economic pressures over the coming two decades would tip the scale in favor of a relocation, and in 2004, the Expos became the Washington Nationals.

Another pitch out of the strike zone for a ball. Staub began his major league career as a 19-year-old with the Houston Astros in 1963; Shea Stadium opened the following year as a multi-purpose stadium built for baseball and football. Aging badly and with the trend towards stadiums built expressly for baseball (while acknowledging a certain old-time vibe – archways, brick facades, distinctive angles to the outfields), Shea was demolished in 2009, replaced by Citi Field.

He calls time, distracted by more paper falling from the rightfield grandstand. The count goes to three balls and two strikes. Never a Hall of Famer, but certainly a first-ballot induction in any mythical Hall of the Nearly Great, Staub retired that winter to organize charitable programs and focus on his Manhattan restaurant, Rusty's, specializing in steaks and ribs. Nearly 30 years to the day of his final at bat, on a flight from Ireland to the U.S., he went into cardiac arrest. Two doctors on board assisted in resuscitating him. He died in 2018, three days before his 74th birthday.

The last swing of the bat is a grounder to the Montreal second baseman, who bobbles the ball but still throws the slow-running Staub out at first. Even the best batters succeed only three out of ten times. The field is littered with white paper, resembling a tentative late autumn snowfall that barely covers the grass, a reminder that winter is right around the corner.