In a time when baseball was truly America’s pastime, one name stands out for his loyalty, perseverance, and deep connection to the Mets: Ed Kranepool. The Bronx-born ballplayer who became one of the original members of the New York Mets and a vital part of their 1969 “Miracle” World Series victory has passed away. Kranepool, who spent his entire 18-year career with the Mets, died Sunday in Boca Raton, Florida, at 79 after suffering from cardiac arrest.
Kranepool’s story is a testament to hard work, patriotism, and the American dream. His rise to the major leagues was meteoric, and though he faced numerous obstacles, he remained a symbol of Mets’ pride and perseverance for decades. His passing marks the end of an era, but his legacy will continue to inspire future generations of players and fans alike.
Born on November 8, 1944, in The Bronx, Edward Emil Kranepool faced adversity from the very beginning. His father, a World War II veteran, was tragically killed three months before Ed was born. Raised by his widowed mother, Ethel, Ed and his older sister Marilyn grew up in a household that understood the sacrifices of military service and the value of hard work. Ethel relied on a modest military widow’s pension and worked odd jobs to provide for her family, instilling in young Ed a strong sense of duty, discipline, and resilience.
Kranepool’s love for baseball was evident from an early age. He spent countless hours practicing his swing and fielding, with local coach Jimmy Schiafo stepping in as a father figure. The young boy’s dedication was undeniable—Schiafo even drew a chalk outline of home plate beneath the rug in Kranepool’s living room so he could practice whenever he pleased. Kranepool didn’t just dream of playing baseball; he lived it.
By the time he was 17, Kranepool had broken Hall of Famer Hank Greenberg’s home run record at James Monroe High School and caught the attention of Major League scouts. Days after his high school graduation, the Mets came calling, offering the promising young slugger an $80,000 bonus. For Kranepool, a working-class kid from the Bronx, the decision to join the Mets wasn’t just about the money—it was about opportunity.
“I chose the Mets not only because they offered me enough money, but because they also presented an opportunity to make the big leagues in the shortest amount of time,” Kranepool recalled. This pragmatic mindset, rooted in a desire for upward mobility and achieving success through hard work, would define his career.
Kranepool’s career with the Mets began in 1962, a year in which the fledgling team finished with a dismal 40-120 record. Yet, for Kranepool, it was the start of an incredible journey. In September of that year, the 17-year-old Bronx native made his major league debut, stepping in for Mets legend Gil Hodges at first base. Though his first taste of the big leagues was challenging, Kranepool was determined to rise to the occasion.
While some critics questioned the Mets’ decision to promote Kranepool at such a young age, he never complained. “They should’ve left me in the minor leagues to develop, and they would’ve gotten a better player out of it,” Kranepool later admitted. Nevertheless, he pushed forward, determined to prove himself on the field.
In the early years, the Mets struggled, and so did Kranepool. But his perseverance paid off. By 1965, he had earned his first and only All-Star selection, and by 1969, he was a key figure in the Mets’ astonishing rise to World Series champions. Kranepool’s role in the “Miracle Mets” cannot be overstated. Though Donn Clendenon took over first base during the World Series, Kranepool’s contributions throughout the season—culminating in his home run in Game 3 of the World Series—helped cement his place in Mets history.
In the conservative spirit of self-reliance and hard work, Kranepool represented a breed of athlete who didn’t just play for the fame or the money. He played because he loved the game and wanted to win, not just for himself, but for his team and his city.
What set Kranepool apart wasn’t just his on-field achievements, but his longevity. He spent all 18 seasons of his major league career with the Mets—an impressive feat in an era where loyalty to a single team was beginning to wane. His loyalty to the franchise was rewarded with a place in the Mets Hall of Fame in 1990, and he remains third on the Mets’ all-time hit list.
Despite the ups and downs of his career, Kranepool never wavered. Even after being sent down to the minors in 1970 and enduring periods of reduced playing time, Kranepool continued to fight. From 1974 to 1978, he became one of the best pinch hitters in the game, proving that even when the odds were stacked against him, he could still make a difference.
Kranepool’s work ethic extended beyond the diamond. While still playing, he earned his stockbroker’s license and became one of the founding members of the MLB Players Association, helping shape the future of the sport for generations to come.
Kranepool’s life after baseball was just as impactful as his time on the field. After retiring, he pursued a variety of business ventures and became an advocate for organ donation. His own life was saved in 2019 when he received a kidney transplant after years of battling diabetes.
“You get that call, and they saved your life,” Kranepool said. “It’s like magic.” His advocacy for organ donation, particularly at a time when medical advancements have the potential to save so many lives, remains one of his lasting contributions.
Kranepool’s loyalty, perseverance, and dedication to both his team and his community are qualities that conservative America holds dear. He embodied the belief that through hard work and self-discipline, anyone can rise from humble beginnings to achieve greatness.
Ed Kranepool is survived by his wife Monica, a cancer survivor herself, and the countless fans who will remember him not just as a great ballplayer, but as a man who never stopped fighting. Whether on the field or in life, Kranepool showed us all the importance of perseverance, loyalty, and the American spirit.
His passing is a reminder of a bygone era of baseball—when the game was played not for the cameras or the celebrity, but for the love of the sport. Rest in peace, Ed Kranepool. You will be missed, but never forgotten.
