So now we know how Max Scherzer [1]‘s conversation with the brass went — it turned out to be an exit interview, as Scherzer is on his way to the Rangers (along with $35.5 million through next year) in return for Luisangel Acuna [2], whom you probably didn’t know is the younger brother of Ronald Acuna Jr. [3] For those keeping score over more than a generation (and if so, applause), the Acunas’ father was a Met minor leaguer in the early aughts. Here’s hoping — for all sorts of reasons — that Luisangel proves a valuable major leaguer; if not, rest assured Greg and I will be ready with sneaky references to Mike Maddux [4] and Pedro A. Martinez for a decade or more.
If I’m feeling paleolithic, the monetary aspects of the Scherzer trade feels at least mildly absurd: $35.5 million is a lot to pay for a prospect, even a good one. But in all walks of life it’s good to resist being paleolithic. Scherzer gave the Mets 90% of a superb initial season, a disappointing finale to that first go-round, and then followed that with an iffy, worrisome sophomore effort. He wasn’t going to get any younger (none of us will), and there was no guarantee that 2023’s issues were going to be behind him. So the Mets sent Scherzer to a contender, added a bonafide prospect in return, and will retool their starting rotation without him.
Without Scherzer and now, it seems pretty clear, without a bunch of other dudes: Seeing what happened to David Robertson [5] and Scherzer once tarp hit field, Tommy Pham [6], Mark Canha [7] and Omar Narvaez [8] have got to be wondering if the next rain delay will mean their departure. And how funny would it be if the Mets trade Justin Verlander [9] back to the Astros, pitting their two 2023-on-paper aces against each other for an AL division crown?
Stepping back further, though, I keep resisting the impulse to be appalled by the amount of money being thrown around. It’s Steve Cohen’s money, not mine or yours or a kitty that otherwise would go to feeding orphans or building schools, and I keep coming back to the thought that the Mets’ 2023 plan seemed sound: pay a short-term premium for top-shelf starters, try and charge through the window of contention that spending pried open, and then turn to a hopefully restocked farm system.
It didn’t work out — and because it didn’t, the 2023 Mets will be trotted out as a cautionary tale for decades — but so what? Does the plan having failed necessitate some sort of hairshirt nonsense where the Mets pare back spending and take a couple of years to be morose about it? Cohen has enough money to try a modified version of the same plan, only with a younger starter in Scherzer’s place, and maybe one in Verlander’s slot as well, and if you’re thinking about Shohei Ohtani [10], well, so is everyone else. (I don’t think Ohtani would come here, but hey, half a billion dollars is an excellent way to change someone’s mind.)
I also keep thinking that the outcome of seasons can be plotted on a bell curve. (I should have dressed this up with a fancy graphic, but hey, 2023.) A season in which everything goes right — rookies blossom, veterans find fountains of youth, bounces go your way — goes on the right-hand side on the curve, down below that mountaintop of middle. Think 1969 or 1986 — and hey, 1999 and 2015 and 2022 are over there on the descending right as well. But there are other seasons, ones in which prospects turn into suspects and veterans get old and bounces work out for the other guys. Those go on the left side of the curve — and 2023 may as well be Exhibit A.
Here’s the thing, though: There are no half bell curves. To have a chance at landing on that magical right-side tail, you have to accept that you might wind up on the dismal lefthand side instead.
There’s 1969 … and there’s 1992,
There’s 1986 … and there’s 2004.
There’s 2022 … and there’s 2023.
That’s the way it goes — and frankly, that’s the way we should all want it to go. We just have to grit our teeth when we realize a given year is destined for that lefthand side, and wait with as much patience as we can muster for fate to flip our position.
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Oh yeah, the game: Your chronicler was out to dinner with his in-laws and it was 7-1 Nats when he reported for duty, meaning he missed Carlos Carrasco [11] reducing his trade value essentially to zero by getting strafed (with some oh-so-2023 defense not helping) and a whole lot of unpleasantness. I also missed newest Met Reed Garrett [12], but here’s betting there are some more debuts ahead.
I did see Francisco Alvarez [13] connect for his 20th homer — now there’s something that’s gone right — and Mark Vientos [14] follow Alvarez’s blast with one of its own, which isn’t bad for a kid who’s been buried on the bench. Poor Brett Baty [15] even doubled, a welcome tonic given that Baty looks both frustrated and like he’s running out of gas.
Does any of it matter? Not particularly [16] — but then nothing else the Mets do on the field will much matter until next April. That’s when we’ll get a chance to assess whatever the new plan is, and to wonder where the new season will land on the bell curve.