David Lennon: Remembering Davey Johnson as Mets prepare for 40th anniversary of 1986 World Series title

The message sticks with the ’86 Mets all these decades later, and echoes in their minds whenever they admire those World Series rings. Sadly, the legendary manager who delivered the words — the beloved leader they credit for piloting them to that title — will be missing from the 40th anniversary, leaving a hole in the hearts of that immortal roster since Davey Johnson’s passing last September.

“We’re not only going to win, we’re going to dominate.”

That was not from a pre-October pep talk, or a closed-door meeting before the first pitch of the World Series.

No, Johnson delivered that speech during spring training, with his players gathered around him in St. Petersburg, as bold a prediction New York has ever heard. His Mets, an outsized collection of talent with egos to match, and coming off a 98-win season, instantly realized the bar had been raised.

Keith Hernandez recalled sitting at his locker as the media circled him afterward and being amazed that Johnson relayed the same thing to reporters. “He doubled down on us to answer the call,” Hernandez said this past week during a phone interview. “He challenged us. And that was a stunner, that’s for sure.”

Darryl Strawberry, who had developed a connection with Johnson years earlier in the minors, initially was surprised to hear Johnson actually say it, then thought to himself, “you know what — he’s right.”

“He put that into our heads because he knew we could handle it,” Strawberry said. “He knew that we had a clear understanding of what that really meant. Not just going out there and playing well, but you did not want to mess with us.”

Ron Darling also was mentored at Triple-A Tidewater by Johnson, but this was next level as far as motivational tactics.

“It definitely resonated, but it also was shocking,” Darling said. “We knew we had a good team and we knew that the pressure was on to win. What he did was take the pressure off because he owned it. It wasn’t a player saying we’re got to win or we’re going to win — it was the manager. So no one else had to say anything. The end result was he took the pressure off us because he put it on himself. What a generous act.”

Above all, Johnson — who built a reputation as an early analytics pioneer — showed that he was a master of the mental game, too, with an elite feel for the human side that’s overlooked in 21st century baseball. And the bond he shared with his ’86 Mets was far more than merely the byproduct of winning.

Conventional wisdom would suggest that Johnson needed to corral a roster with big personalities, out of fear a brush fire could spread to a roster-swallowing inferno, especially during the '80s, when the New York media was at the height of its headline-flexing powers. But Johnson won the hearts and minds of his players by doing the opposite.

Johnson called the shots, sure. But he let the Mets throw the punches, literally and figuratively, on the field.

“We were just a bunch of hard-nosed athletes that were alpha males,” Hernandez said. “He took off the reins, let us out of the barn and just go gallop.”

Much of that was born of mutual respect. Johnson was a three-time All-Star and multiple Gold Glove winner during a 13-year playing career that included winning a pair of World Series rings with the Orioles and a 43-homer season in 1973. When the Mets looked at Johnson, they recognized themselves, and he trusted them to handle business however the players saw fit to do so.

The Mets’ interpretation of “dominate” that season took on many forms. Occasionally, that was by physical combat, as they did twice in bench-clearing brawls with the Dodgers and Reds in 1986, along with some smaller skirmishes along the way.

“I think, personally, he loved it seeing when the boys were like that — my boys are bad, they don’t play [around],” Strawberry said, laughing. “We would do anything to win and he knew the fact we would take care of everybody in that clubhouse.”

Hernandez pointed to a somewhat less combustible example of the manager’s trust, citing a mound meeting with Jesse Orosco fading during the 16-inning NLCS Game 6 against the Astros, a time when Johnson sat back and let his leaders run the show between the lines.

That came up again more recently when Hernandez spoke with Johnson during a phone conversation roughly a year before his death, and the two recounted some of those epic wins together.

“It just kind of struck me, there was no ego,” Hernandez said. “Davey said, ‘I could have gone out to the mound as the manager — tight situation, game on the line, staring down Mike Scott the next day. But I looked from the dugout and what did I see? I saw you, Gary Carter, Ray Knight. I didn’t have to go out there. I knew all you guys would handle it.”

Said Darling: “Just an unbelievable confidence. I’ve never met anyone more confident in his ability to lead men than Davey Johnson and it was unwavering. There was never a hint of, does he know what he’s doing? There was none of that. I think every manager in the history of the game gets questioned all the time, right? Not that players didn’t second-guess him, but at the end of the day, you’re like, well, I guess he was right again.”

Strawberry mentioned a conversation he had with Hall of Famer Joe Torre this past week in which he drew plenty of comparisons between the two World Series-winning managers he played for in New York.

 Torre presided over a renewed Bronx dynasty, with four Yankees championships in five years — including three straight — while Johnson secured the Mets’ first title since the storybook 1969 season, not to mention the franchise’s second and last World Series ring to date. There was a common thread to all that uncommon success.

“They were the type of managers that played the game at the highest level, had success and know what players are like,” Strawberry said. “They knew what players needed — the guys you had to talk down or help through the process, and Davey was that way, because we had so many different pieces. He was just the perfect for that group.”

There’s also an argument to be made that Johnson should follow Torre into Cooperstown, a case built on the resumes of his playing and managerial career. He managed five teams over 17 seasons, which included six first-place finishes, and wrapped up each of those tenures with a winning record overall. His .562 winning percentage is the sixth-highest among managers with at least 1,300 victories.

“As we look in retrospect, this is a guy that belongs in the Hall of Fame,” Darling said. “It’s Joe Torre-like, a really solid, amazing MLB career combined with one of the most historical seasons for a second baseman [the 43 homers in 1973] along with his managing.”

Darling witnessed the dawn of that managerial career, vouching for strengths present at the outset, right from the formation of the Mets’ championship DNA. He was pitching for the Tidewater Tides, then the Mets’ Triple-A affiliate, during Johnson’s lone season there in 1983 when the manager interrupted his side session.

Johnson had made a scouting visit to New Haven — Darling starred for Yale — and noticed that the young prospect’s delivery now was different.

First off, Darling never realized Johnson had seen him pitch for Yale. For him to store that information away for this future teaching moment was something that instantly struck a chord with a kid trying to make the big leagues.

Johnson told Darling that the three-quarter action he deployed in college created massive sink on his pitches, so why was that gone now?

Darling explained that he was instructed to go with a more over-the-top delivery with a big curveball since arriving in the pros.

“That’s when Davey grabbed a bat, stood in the batter’s box and said, ‘Throw how you used to throw,’ ” Darling said this past week during a phone interview. “I threw approximately five or six pitches, and he goes, ‘That’s nasty! Don’t change a thing! Go back to how you used to throw, because you’ll be great with this.’ ”

All these decades later, Darling described this life-changing moment as if it were yesterday, which relays the magnitude of an otherwise routine event for a minor-leaguer.

“As soon as he said that, I knew I was going to be in the big leagues by the end of the year,” Darling said. “It was just a beautiful vote of confidence.”

To many, Johnson’s legacy stems from that immortal ’86 title run, the brash and brilliant commander of that boisterous crew. But Johnson helped shape more than a dozen members of that championship core by first mentoring them in his two minor-league stops, first at Double-A Jackson and later up in Tidewater.

Johnson  had Strawberry, then a 21-year-old phenom, for only a brief stint with the Tides, and yet mentions their final Triple-A conversation in his office with a reverence that rivals his long list of on-field accomplishments.

Strawberry remembered not seeing his name on the Tidewater lineup card, then immediately seeking out Johnson to ask him why.

When told he was sitting in preparation of heading up to the Mets the following day, Strawberry at first wasn’t sure how to react. In that instant, someone who would become one of the most intimidating sluggers the sport has ever seen, felt some doubt creep in, letting out an exasperated sigh. Johnson noticed.

“Don’t do that — you’re ready,” Strawberry recalled him saying. “Just be you. Go do what you gotta do. For him to hug me, and tell me that, it was huge.”

So when Johnson got the call-up himself at the conclusion of that ’83 season, in many ways, he already was one of them. And that vibe prevailed throughout the 108-win campaign and the magical, memorable October that ensued — carrying on to the bus rides and plane flights.

“He was a big personality, too,” Darling said. “If we played a certain song he liked, he’d be up there dancing — his old man kind of dance. I can picture him today just doing that dance, and I wish we had that on tape or something.”

Said Strawberry: “Our fans knew how great we were, but they didn’t know how great Davey was for us.”

On Aug. 1, when the ’86 Mets gather for the 40th anniversary, everyone will be reminded what Johnson meant to the franchise, along with the significance of that DAVEY patch on the team’s sleeves. It’s all a testament to Johnson’s extraordinary impact on a season, and special group of players, that will never be duplicated in Flushing.