Horwitz figured he'd get married out of NYU, have a family. He wanted to be Pierre Salinger, the press secretary for John F. Kennedy. That was his dream. He was a liberal activist. He once campaigned for George McGovern, who lost worse than the '62 Mets. Horwitz was going to change the world, not type out notes about hamstring pulls.

But stuff happens, and there goes a lifetime. He majored in journalism, got a job covering the Jets for the Herald News in Passaic before turning to public relations. Joey Goldstein, the late PR guru, recommended Horwitz - at the time, the SID at Fairleigh Dickenson - for the Mets job because he was a kindred oddball who thought outside the batter's box. At FDU, Horwitz pitched stories to papers about a one-armed fencer, a second baseman who got hit by 128 pitches and a priest who played hockey.

He is 63, a lovable, frazzled soul among young millionaires from very different cultures. He could be the father to these players, and talks like their proud, protective grandpa. He tells you that Jose Reyes is remarkable for learning English on his own, and that Carlos Beltran deserves credit for stepping up and becoming a spokesman the last couple of years. Everybody is a saint, or at least a mensch.

It was the same story after the Cooter's incident in Houston, when a handful of Mets were arrested. Horwitz went to court so many times with those players that friends and family would see him on television and ask if he was facing trial

SID= sports info director