5 years later, Bartolo Colon’s home run is still one of the magical moments in Mets history

When Big Sexy went big fly nearly five years ago, Ron Darling let out “a yelp and a giggle” over the television airwaves. “I’ve never done that in the booth,” Darling says. “It was glee, total rapture with the moment.”

Gary Cohen authored a play-by-play call that might just live forever in Mets lore. It’s an incredulous, delighted description of an improbable home run by Bartolo Colon, the pitcher who profiled as an unlikely slugger. It includes this line: “The impossible has happened!” and Cohen’s words still give goosebumps to longtime Mets observers like Jay Horwitz, the team historian.

Out in the visitors bullpen at Petco Park, Jerry Blevins jumped into Logan Verrett’s arms. The two Mets relievers bounced up and down, grinning crazily. “It was like the lottery,” Blevins says. “It’s like the true spectacle of sports in one moment.” Blevins was so captivated, he says now, that he forgot he pitched in the game. He couldn’t remember whether the Mets had won.

In the dugout, beaming Mets bolted for the underground tunnel to play an old baseball gag on their teammate — leaving the dugout empty for Colon’s arrival. Terry Collins, who recalls yelping, “Don’t tell me…” when Colon connected, stayed. “I said, ‘This is really cool. I want to see him go around the bases,’” the then-manager says.

And the man himself? Colon, carrying his bat up the first base line, embarked on a long, sheepish home run trot: 30.6 seconds.

Friday is the fifth anniversary of what might be the most eccentric home run in baseball history. On May 7, 2016, Colon, after a career filled with batter’s box futility, bashed a 1-1 pitch over the left-field fence off James Shields of the Padres. It was the 226th at-bat of his career. The Mets won the game, 6-3, but that morphed into a forgettable footnote because Colon, 17 days shy of his 43rd birthday, became the oldest player in Major League Baseball history to hit the first home run of his career.

“It’s funny the dates you remember — June 1 for (Johan) Santana’s no-hitter and May 7 for a pitcher’s home run,” says Darren Meenan, the founder of the Mets-crazy group, The 7 Line Army. About 1,400 members were in the right-field stands that day, all wearing orange T-shirts.

We may never see the likes of Colon’s home run again. No, really: If the National League adopts the designated hitter permanently next season, as many expect, it’s possible there won’t ever be a home run that strikes the same quirky, odd notes.

“I’ve done a lot of unbelievable games, Game 7s, walk-offs in the postseason, no-hitters. But it’s definitely a top 10 moment for me,” says Darling. “Bartolo was a legend anyway, but he became, really, on that day, a New York Met.”

The Mets first signed Colon in December of 2013, giving him a two-year deal worth $20 million. While he may not have been the ace fans craved, Colon had been successful after evolving from the power pitcher who won the 2005 AL Cy Young Award into the sinkerballer with a mastery of the strike zone.

He won 15, 14 and 15 games in three seasons in Queens, never delivering fewer than 191.2 innings. He became a beloved clubhouse sage, too, and always seemed to be enjoying himself on the field.

“A lot of the kids on the team, Bartolo was almost old enough to be their father,” Darling says. “He was revered in that clubhouse, a great bridge between the Spanish-speaking players and the English-speaking players. He became a unifier of people, teammates and fans.”

But certainly not a hitter. Some of his at-bats, Darling says, “were laydowns, where he wouldn’t swing.” Colon compiled this slash line in his 21-year career, mostly spent in the AL: .084/.092/.107. In 299 career at-bats, he struck out 166 times.

“It wasn’t just that he was this oddly-sized, older pitcher who had never hit a home run,” Cohen says. “It was the utter futility of his at-bats — the helmet flying off, the rear end flying out. Every at-bat was interesting in its own way. He became a cult figure because of them. And he improved along the way.”

That’s because, while he may not have looked the part to some, Colon was a tremendous athlete. In 2015, he made a behind-the-back flip to nab a Marlins runner at first base, a play that still makes Mets folks rave.

“As crazy as it sounds, Bartolo’s like a ninja — super flexible, super strong,” Blevins says. “Just happens to be a robust-sized human being.”

“He could stand on the dugout and kick his leg up and hit the roof of the dugout with his foot,” says Nationals assistant hitting coach Pat Roessler, who held the same job with the Mets back then and helped Colon with hitting. “That’s how limber and loose he was.”

So when Colon worked on his hitting, he improved. During his batting practice, balls sometimes landed in the stands. He got his first career walk in 2016.

At one point, Collins recalls, Roessler suggested that Colon might ambush a pitcher one day. Still, not many around the Mets believed it really would happen.

“Absolutely not,” Blevins says.

The Mets were 17-11 going into that May 7 game in San Diego, en route to an NL Wild Card berth. Colon had a 2.56 ERA after throwing eight shutout innings against the Braves in his previous start.

There were two outs in the second inning when Colon strode to the plate after a Kevin Plawecki double. This is what happened on the third pitch, according to Cohen’s call: “Colon looking for his first hit of the year. He drives one, deep left field, back goes (Melvin) Upton, back near the wall. It’s outta here! Bartolo has done it! The impossible has happened! The team vacates the dugout as Bartolo takes the long trot. His first career home run. And there’ll be nobody in the dugout to greet him. This is one of the great moments in the history of baseball! Bartolo Colon has gone deep!”

On the radio, Howie Rose made sure listeners understood they were hearing the implausible, saying, in part: “Home run, Bartolo Colon! Repeating: Home run, Bartolo Colon!”

“As a singular entity, it was fantastical,” Rose recalls. “It’s a garnish. But it’s not the meal. It was pure entertainment. But for those who were entertained, it’s something they remember for a lifetime.

“It’s proper place is up for debate. Does it resonate the way some of the real big home runs in Mets history did? Of course not, but as its own cottage industry, yeah, it was something.”

Adds Blevins: “It’s a Mets moment.”

Granderson was on deck and he still laments not getting to be part of the dugout disappearing act and the ensuing joyous celebration. Colon wound up pitching 6.2 innings that day, allowing three runs and earning the win.

He got the ball, too. A lifelong Met fan from Southern California named Jimmy Zurn got it and was happy to give it to Colon, Horwitz says. Colon posed for pictures and swapped an autographed bat and ball.

There were more souvenirs. Then-Mets owner Jeff Wilpon had an imitation Silver Slugger bat made up for Colon with the date of the home run on it. Wilpon also gave Colon two magnums of tequila.

Topps, Inc. made a limited-edition baseball card of the moment for its Topps Now line. It shattered sales records at the time and the card “put the program on the map, says Emily Kless, Topps Communications Manager. “The Bartolo card is the poster child for Topps Now.”

After 2016, the Mets and Colon parted ways, but Colon has hardly disappeared. He pitched in the Majors through 2018. At 47, he’s still pitching for Acereros de Monclova of the Mexican Baseball League.

Every now and then, too, Colon sends ripples through Mets Twitter when a clip of him clobbering a home run in a pickup game or a softball league is posted on the web.

In 2018, he appeared in a hilarious TV ad for Kingsford Charcoal where he sports a blue cap with “Ribs” on the front and does exercises while carrying a pig. Recently, Colon was in a Jim Beam ad, playing every character, including the fan who watches a baseball land in his beer, so he switches to a highball instead.

“I saw that,” Roessler says with a laugh. “Good for him.”

It’s just another sign, perhaps, that Colon’s persona endures. His unique home run certainly helps.

“Here we are talking about it five years later, a regular-season home run by some random pitcher,” says Cohen. “I think one of the great things about baseball is that it provides moments that can’t be duplicated.

“And this is one of those things.”