He was, simply put, Le Grande Orange. Down in Queens, he was Rusty. But don't let that name fool you. He was hardly "Rusty" at all. In his 9 years as a Met, he was quite a productive player, knocking in 399 runs and scoring 296 of his own.

His real time to shine came in 1973, of course. While not playing his best in the NLCS against the Reds, he opened up a can of "whoop ass" in the World Series against those pesky Oakland Athletics with a .423 average. But while I didn't even exist when Rusty was playing, I know from previous generations that he was among the highest of fan favorites. So here's to you, Rusty! You're one cool Grande Orange!

Next Monday: Rise of the Coneheads