How ’bout that Mr. Met?

The beaming ball head finds himself on the short list for possible induction into the Mascot Hall of Fame. (Yes, it’s real. No, it doesn’t have a home yet. At the moment it’s still just on the Web, at mascothalloffame.com).

Every year for the past, well, two, fans have voted for their favorite sports team mascot, with the Phillie Phanatic and San Diego Chicken among the vaunted elect. But this year, despite the nomination of Shea’s favorite son, there can be no joy in Metville: Mr. Met is not in first place.

With three weeks’ voting to go, he is trailing behind the San Antonio Spurs’ Coyote, a bloodshot-eyed rodent who looks like a chipmunk on crack.

How can this be? If anyone deserves immortality, it is Mr. Met, Major League Baseball’s very first mascot, unveiled in 1964 when the Mets themselves made their debut.

“Mr. Met is in a different class,” a Manhattan investment banker, Adam Birnbaum, said. “It’s like, there’s the Beatles, and then there’s every other rock group. There’s Mr. Met, and then there’s the gorilla from Phoenix and that running Wiener schnitzel from Milwaukee.” (By this, Mr. Birnbaum was referring to one of the five human sausages who race each other at Milwaukee Brewers’ home games.)

It is certainly true that Mr. Met embodies the old guard. No polka dot plush for him. And while some may deride his mildly lobotomized demeanor, it is also true that, unlike some Hall of Famers, Mr. Met has never been tainted by scandal.

Compare this to the Phillie Phanatic, who once, at the opening of a paint store, hugged a man so hard he suffered back injuries and sued. The San Diego Chicken was sued, too — for grabbing a Chicago Bulls cheerleader in ’91 and rolling her onto the floor.

Back then, not every team had a mascot. Today most do, an official at the Mascot Hall of Fame, Christopher Bruce, said. They range from the Wilmington Blue Rocks’ Mr. Celery to the Santa Cruz Banana Slugs. “There’s a Puffy the Taco somewhere, too,” Mr. Bruce said.

A cute critter can work wonders for fan loyalty, but beware the opposite. “We were having a lot of problems with kids being scared of our mascot,” a former publicist for the Savannah Sand Gnats, Kevin Gray, recalled.

And why was that?

“It was a fierce, muscular bug with fangs.”

Oh.

Once they gave the gnat a grin and made him fat, Mr. Gray said, the children stopped crying.

Smiles are very important in mascot-dom, which is one reason Mr. Met is so popular. But his charm does not work on everyone. “Tom Seaver couldn’t stand him,” a Brooklyn fan, Andrew Torres, recalled. “I remember when Seaver used to announce the games on Channel 11. He would make comments, and one time Mr. Met tried to come into the booth just to bother him and he couldn’t fit his head through the door.”

Warming to his subject, Mr. Torres pointed out that the supposedly loyal Mr. Met disappeared for most of the 1980s. “It was such a great stretch for the team, and Mr. Met was nowhere to be found.” When the team brought him back, he said, they started losing.

These are the kind of rumblings Mr. Birnbaum cannot tolerate. “There’s nobody who epitomizes baseball and a carefree childhood like Mr. Met,” the banker said. “I remember at one game I was at with my son, I was getting very upset when the Mets did something ridiculously stupid and my son was getting very upset, too, and I said, ‘Don’t get too worked up. Look at Mr. Met! He’s smiling.’ And my son said, ‘Dad, he’s always smiling. It’s painted on his face.'”

And so it is. More power to him. Rain or shine, win or lose, Mr. Met refuses to weep. Whether or not the Hall of Fame beckons, he will smile on. And that, my friends, is what makes Mr. Met a winner.