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If the Mets Fall in the Desert…

Most of the Mets game I watched Saturday night was pretty good. Jacob deGrom [1] was outstanding, looking more like Jake from 2018 than he has since he was making beautiful music [2] in Miami in early April. Todd Frazier [3] continued to bring the power despite being written off in multiple quarters as an irredeemable sunk cost. Michael Conforto [4] laid down one of those sweet shift-beating bunts that makes you point at your head and nod appreciatively. Dominic Smith [5] hit. Pete Alonso [6] hit. Tomás Nido [7] caught his personal pitcher and drove in a run. Adeiny Hechavarria [8] handled the bat and fielded fancily.

A little of the game I watched started to be not so good. DeGrom had a hip problem of some sort. Hechavarria rushed an ill-advised throw. Something seemed to be wrong with Nido after he made a questionable choice with a baseball. Mickey Callaway had to emerge from the dugout and approach the field a couple of times, which is never very good at all. He was joined by head trainer Brian Chicklo. You only want to hear the name “head trainer Brian Chicklo” when he’s introduced on Opening Day and never again.

Then I fell asleep because Arizona pretends to be closer than California to New York, yet they began their Saturday night game at 10:10 PM, which is something they do in Los Angeles, and I’ve had enough of that this week. The Mets were winning the game I watched, though not as decisively as they had been. The Mets lost the game I didn’t watch, which, unfortunately, was attached to the one I did watch and, when you added it up, which I did at approximately 5:45 AM, it came out to Diamondbacks 6 Mets 5 in eleven innings [9].

I have no first-hand comment to offer on how this game got completely away from the Mets other than to say stop doing that.