Metro

Ex-Mr. Met spills on being the massive-headed mascot

Mr. Met is no stranger to hardball — even with the feds.

In 1997, the big-headed mascot was threatened by the Secret Service while President Bill Clinton was in town for Jackie Robinson Day.

“The Secret Service had set up all these metal detectors and checkpoints,” A.J. Mass, the man behind the massive noggin, told The Post.

On game day, “every time I walked through, there was enough metal in my costume to set it off,” he said.

NYPD officers took it in stride, and even goofingly pretended to arrest Mr. Met. But the men in black had a major-league problem with Mass, who recalls the incident in a new memoir, “Yes, It’s Hot in Here: Adventures in the Weird, Woolly World of Sports Mascots.”

“All of a sudden there’s this guy in a black suit boring his eyes into my soul,” Mass said.

“He said, ‘There are snipers all around the stadium just in case anything were to happen. Approach the president, and we go for the kill shot.’ ”

As mascot, Mass, now 43, endured such indignities as opposing players spraying him with tobacco and kids amped up on candy socking him with souvenir bats.

Some male fans demanded to know his gender while he posed for photos with their girlfriends.

“A lot of macho guys would say, ‘Tell me the truth. Is that a guy or a girl in there?’ I wouldn’t give them the pleasure of answering,” Mass said. “I’d point at my chest: I’m Mr. Met. They’d freak out.”

Mr. Met has adorned scorecards and programs since the team’s birth, but the cartoon came to life only on May 31, 1964.

Between games of a double-header against the ­Giants, a ticket-office employee named Dan Reilly came onto the field “donning a small, papier-mâché, baseball-shaped head” and waved to fans, took pictures and signed autographs.

Mr. Met was a regular fixture until later in the decade, when the Mets surprised the world by starting to win and no ­longer needed the mascot’s encouragement.

But after the 1993 season, when the Mets’ exorbitantly paid roster lost 103 games, a morale booster was once again a priority.

The team asked its hired help, who earned $7.50 an hour, to portray costumed characters. Nine people danced inside baseball-glove costumes, and one became the new Mr. Met.

In 1994, the costume weighed 40 to 50 pounds and could be worn only by someone between 5-foot-8 and 6-feet tall.

There were pulleys inside the big baseball head, allowing Mr. Met to move his eyes, eyebrows and mouth to form a smile.

A year later, Mass scored a simpler costume that let him spend time with fans and players’ kids. Shortstop José Vizcaíno’s daughter, Gabriella, adored Mr. Met and would hold his hand. Announcer Howie Rose’s kid, Chelsea, however, was terrified.

Mass was let go after the 1997 season over disagreements about the mascot program.

“As I shake my head in disbelief at the state of the team I used to love, I find myself once again being drawn to the smiling face of Mr. Met like a sailor to the song of the siren,” Mass writes.

“I’m not sure why that inanimate piece of polyurethane still holds such power over me, and yet it does.”