Here’s an unforgivable fan sin: “I don’t want them to clinch tonight because I have tickets for tomorrow and want to see it myself.”
I’ve heard that a time or two, and it’s all I can do to limit myself to pointed disagreement instead of reacting in a way that would get me taken away in a cop car. Because no. No with a side of “Are you fucking insane?”
This is a roundabout way of saying that Emily and I had sprung for tickets to Wednesday’s game, and I would have been immensely happy if it hadn’t been played because the Mets had already beaten the Phillies, drenched each other in alcohol and started making plans to head for California.
But it was going to be played, so we donned our orange 7 Line gear (with the Mookie shirt I’ve decided is lucky beneath mine) and got on the subway at the uncharacteristic hour demanded by a 5:08 pm start. Mets fans started appearing in ones and twos as the 2 headed north through lower Manhattan, and at Times Square we descended to the 7 platform and soon found ourselves tick-tick-ticking above Queens on a subway car jammed with Mets fans and non-baseball-affiliated Queensfolk who looked even more affronted than usual by this surge of orange and blue rooters.
Our 7 train was decorated with Grimaces. (Grimaci?) I decided that was a good omen.
A look at the lines outside the rotuna sent us around to the bullpen gate (which I highly, highly recommend if you’re going to Citi Field this postseason), and from there it was a brisk walk across the Shea Bridge to the 7 Line’s domain, with the Home Run Apple’s housing hulking to our right.
Weirdly, I’d never been to a game with the 7 Line, though I’ve had tickets for a few. Emily has gone multiple times, sometimes with our kid and/or her dad, but my outings have all fallen victim to illness or scotched plans or some other mischance. Honestly, this was the perfect time for my debut: I was nervous as a cat, and given my anxiety there was no better place to be than surrounded by other anxious, all-in Mets fans. I could look right and see a guy hoisting a YA GOTTA BELIEVE sign, look left and see a woman pumping a Francisco Lindor fathead in the air, and look down toward the field and see an OMG sign, one big enough to need handles to get it from place to place. And unlike my typical Citi Field experience, 99% of our neighbors were laser-focused on the game, radiating bravado or dismay or bouncing madly between them.
Oh, and the guy in the aisle when we arrived? It was Cow-Bell Man, who’s been part of my Mets fan experience since Shea. I fist-bumped him extra-happily, convinced that was a good omen too.
None of this camaraderie settled my nerves — the world can’t make an OMG sign that big — but being surrounded by others’ jangled nerves made the fractured state of my own easier to bear. We were in this together, ticketed for jubilation or despair, and there was a comfort in it.
As for the game, though … it was a long way away, and watched through the mildly cracked prism of a friendly Met-fan soccer riot. Balls and strikes? No real idea. Anything down the right-field line was a mystery, solved only by watching whether the batter ended up standing on a base, returned to the plate, or trudged back to the dugout. (Alec Bohm‘s foul ball that should have been a double was particularly confounding.) You knew what had happened primarily because 40,000-other fans reacted one way or another.
Which made the Mets’ Sisyphean struggles to score even one lousy run feel even more out of kilter. They’d load the bases against Ranger Suarez, or put two runners on, or do something worthy of praise, and then batters we could kind of see would hack at balls we couldn’t see and a strike would go up and I’d turn to look at the big video board and it would always say the same fucking thing: CURVEBALL.
(Analysis exclusively by inference: Suarez had a really good curveball.)
Suarez Houdini’ed his way out of threat after threat before departing in the fifth, with our section believing, moaning and griping, and then putting aside our pique and believing again, lather rinse repeat. (CURVEBALL.) Fortunately, Jose Quintana was doing some Houdini work of his own: The Phillies pushed a run across in the fourth when Mark Vientos bobbled a throw home (which probably wouldn’t have gotten Bryce Harper anyway), a carbon copy of his misplay in Philadelphia. But Quintana kept Nick Castellanos pinned at third to limit the damage. Then, in the top of the sixth, Quintana allowed a leadoff double to Harper before departing, but Reed Garrett sandwiched two strikeouts around a walk and David Peterson got the final out.
One-nothing, but it was only the sixth. Things hadn’t gone our way yet, but surely a lousy skinny run wasn’t going to be enough to send the series back to Philadelphia.
Still, enough doubt had crept in that when the Mets started the sixth with a single, HBP and a walk off Jeff Hoffman, we were less ready to exult than we were braced for impact. With the bases loaded and nobody out, Francisco Alvarez tapped a ball to Trea Turner at short, Turner came home for the force, and it was like the same stale air was farting and whistling out of the same sad slackening balloon: not this, not again.
Hoffman departed in favor of Carlos Estevez, who’d face Lindor. Their confrontation unfolded far away. All fastballs, I could see that much. Lindor ignored the first one, swung over the second one, and jerked back from the third one.
The fourth one, though, was belted, struck on a line to our left. Brandon Marsh turned and ran after it, not the lope of an outfielder who has time but the gallop of one who fears he doesn’t. I could tell the ball wasn’t going to be caught but could judge nothing else. Then I lost track of the ball and our section becoming a cauldron of screaming and leaping told me the rest: It was a grand slam, and the Mets’ one-run deficit had turned into a three-run lead.
(By the way, before we got home two different friends had sent along screenshots of me and Emily losing our minds in the crowd. I’m only starting to realize how cool it is that I have years in which I’ll be able to look up during a classic Mets clip and say, “there we are right there — oh my was that something to see.”)
The Mets led, but it was time for my new parlor games. The first was to beseech the Mets for nine or 10 more runs, which they stubbornly refused to supply despite being handed more opportunities. The second was to ask where we were going to get X more outs and request that the reliever of the moment not fuck it up.
So. Where were we going to get nine outs? Peterson didn’t fuck up and so reduced the tally to six. The Mets refused to convert first and second and nobody out into so much as a tack-on run, let alone the desired nine or 10. But Peterson again didn’t fuck up and the outs to be sought shrank to three.
If you’d polled our section before the top of the ninth, at least 90% of us would have opted to send Peterson back out having thrown just 23 pitches. But one of this season’s most eventful storylines — which you can sense has twists and turns left — has been Carlos Mendoza and his faith in Edwin Diaz. However we felt about it out by the Home Run Apple, the stadium lights dimmed, “Narco” started up, and on came Diaz.
On came Diaz, and it was obvious even from 450 feet away that he was a mess. A five-pitch walk to J.T. Realmuto started the muttering; a five-pitch walk to Bryson Stott inspired full-on mutiny. Two on, nobody out and at best Diaz was going to have to face three hitters representing the tying run. And at worst? My mind shrank from that one like I’d almost put my hand on a cherry-red burner atop the stove.
Jeremy Hefner came out and then it was time for Diaz to deal with Knapsack Clemens. I’ll tell you this: If Kneecap had hit a game-tying home run off Diaz you wouldn’t be reading this recap, because I would have torn off my gear, walked out of Citi Field and become a monk. Baseball can’t be that cruel, I tried to tell myself, knowing perfectly that in fact it is that cruel all the time.
Diaz, still not looking anywhere near sharp, fell behind Clemens 2-1, then struck him out on a pair of fastballs. I’d say whew, but it felt like the thumb screws getting twisted a little tighter. Up came Marsh, who got under a four-seamer and hit a can of corn to Harrison Bader. But there was still one out to get, and Diaz was going to have to wring it out of Kyle Schwarber, who on the one hand had literally never done anything against Diaz but on the other hand was Kyle Schwarber.
Remember, we were far away. What happened was a distant pantomime, mostly of things not happening. Strike, ball, drive to right that was long but clearly foul, and then … a little flurry of motion at home plate, a jet-engine roar from the crowd, and pandemonium.
The Mets had won, clinching something for the first time at Citi Field. In section 141 we had our own little V-J Day: Don’t know you but here’s a high-five and a hug for good measure. The weather report: jubilant, with scattered beer showers. And then back onto the 7 (no express, because I guess the MTA wasn’t given a playoff schedule) and into Donovan’s at Woodside to be greeted like conquering heroes in the bar and then home at last, equal parts exhausted and exhilarated.
Exhausted and exhilarated, and wanting more. But there will be time for that. For now, here we are. And what an amazing place it is.
I have a hard time believing that anyone but Mendoza and Philly fans and players wanted to see Diaz. Howie said he understood why. I didn’t (actually I did, I just thought it was crazy – demonstrate your faith in him by sending him a card or fruit basket or something).
Twice now Lindor has saved our season. Yeah, there was another game and maybe in Metsian fashion we beat Wheeler and company in Philly a second time but I wouldn’t have bet on it.
Great to have that picture. Worth framing IMO.
“…not the lope of an outfielder who has time but the gallop of one who fears he doesn’t..” – the whole paragraph but this in particular is the writing equivalent of Howie Rosen’s call.
Wonderful piece, Jason!
wow, diaz!
i almost texted a friend the question : just *who* is he closing for?? but was too tense, too busy yelling THROW STRIKES to type. last night was tense, momentarily jubilant, tense.
jason: glad you and emily were able to be there for it all – and especially the happy ending – in spite of not actively *wishing* for the game to happen!
another great capturing of what so many of us were experiencing from a far, greater distance.
and now, a few days to breathe easy!
Because, as a lifelong Mets Fan, I’m always seeing the cloud in the Silver Lining, Jose Iglesias had what probably was his worst offensive game of the season by far. Overanxious, easily fooled, none of his usual 2 strike magic. I hope he’s not about to finally regress to his career norms (which aren’t bad but not .337 good). It’s certainly time to get him out of the 5 spot in the batting order.
Iglesias has been playing over his head for months now. This may be the perfect time for McNeil to come back, and for Jose to go back to the utility infielder role.
Or, alternatively, this was one game, and Suarez was throwing all the hitters off their game with his curve. I still think that if McNeil can come back, it will strengthen the whole team anyway. But I wouldn’t necessarily write off Iglesias due to one admittedly bad game.
Given Iglesias’ age and recent history, it’s asking a lot of him to be a regular. That’s been a concern in Met Land for some time. I suspect/hope that three days off will be a big lift.
You’re going to have to change the name of this site because there ain’t no more fear. I knew that with Stearns arriving things were going to change but I didn’t think they were going to change this fast. My mantra until now has been that I will be happy with whatever they can accomplish in the post season because after all I’m still scarred by game 4 of the 1988 LCS but now it’s World Series or bust baby. Tickets are expensive but I may just go for it! LGM!
Yeah, we’re playing with house money and it’s a wonderful thing. At this point, no reason to be scared.
As a Mets fan in Delaware (Philly market), I am so looking forward to overhearing all the Phillies fans in my office being absolutely apoplectic today. Well, on to California and much later start times we go!
Wow! OMG!
Although the games have started at a UK friendly time (22:08) the times of the big moments have meant that I have become proficient in the art of the silent scream! The silent scream was proper LOUD last night/this morning :-)
I WAS advocating for Diaz, my rationale being “it’s what he’s paid to do” It wasn’t pretty but he got it done!
Onwards to West Coast times, so basically 0330 alarm calls lol
I work for a large conglomerate with a big footprint in Philadelphia. My Mets shirt has been warmly received on all my conference calls this morning.
Hey man, slide some of those TastyKakes this way.
Scores to settle: 1) Braves (check), 2) Phillies (check), (3) Padres (2022)/Dodgers (1988), looking forward to finding out. What an explosion of unbridled joy in that ballpark after Lindor hit his grannie. That feeling is EXACTLY why we spend endless hours with this team, there is absolutely nothing like it.
It’s so funny – I was actually making a partial list of ghosts that have been exorcised by the Mets over the past series:
1) Zack Wheeler – check.
2) The #%^*+ owners who allowed Wheeler to walk – not quite exorcised, but getting there.
3) Mike Schmidt (all time Met killer) – check.
4) Bryce Harper (current Met killer) – check.
5) J.T. Realmuto, whom aforementioned #%^* owners didn’t sign – check.
6) Roger and Karate Kid Clemens – check! (Somewhere in Italy, Mike Piazza is smiling today.)
7) We traded Jarred Kelenic for THAT??? – check.
8) We traded Andres Gimenez for THAT??? – a big fat check! And finally…
9) Can Pete Alonso still hit in the clutch? The answer: Write him a big fat check!
The Mets clinched a divisional series yesterday with Joe Torre, Adam Wainwright and Roger Clemens’ kid all on the premises. I got your exorcised ghosts right here.
That picture is great, frame it! Reading about the win is almost as good as the victory itself, thanks!
Number ten would be Freddie Freaking Freeman. He eats Mets pitching like a miniature Italian greyhound eating a hotdog in the cheap seats.
2 division winners down, anyone fancy a third? And consider some of the potential revenges here:
– Dodgers, NLCS 1988
– Yankees, World Series 2000
– Royals, World Series 2015
– Padres, whenever the hell that was
Getting a bit ahead of things, but this could get pretty interesting.
if only the (still) oakland A’s were in this the mets could address the first opponent to bring mu first taste of fan trauma!
The Mets beat the Dodgers in 2015, so I’ll take the Padres to redeem 2022.
The Mets beat the Dodgers in the division series in 2015, not the LCS, so 1988 is still unavenged. I’ll take the Dodgers.
True. As far as the NLDS, the Mets beat the Dodgers in 2006 too. Redeeming the 1988 NLCS works.
The 7 Line for a playoff game is literally the best experience a diehard can have. Head over to The Playwright one of these nights, it’s the next best thing to being there!
This post and Greg’s “Homecoming Game” piece are wonderful. Not only do you both capture the joy of this amazing Mets postseason, you also beautifully evoke New York City. This means so much to out-of-town fans like me who only get to New York and Citi Field once every year or two. From the subway to the bar and of course the ballpark itself, you made me feel like I had been there too. Thank you, and let’s go Mets!
Thank YOU. That’s very kind!
Great piece, Jason! Long time reader, first time commenter. Just one question for you: Is there any chance that your lucky Mookie shirt is the 7 Line design with the scorebook images of his Game 6 at bat? Because that’s MY lucky Mets shirt!
Indeed it is! More proof there’s magic in that shirt.
Get one here: https://the7line.com/products/game-6-mets
“(By the way, before we got home two different friends had sent along screenshots of me and Emily losing our minds in the crowd. I’m only starting to realize how cool it is that I have years in which I’ll be able to look up during a classic Mets clip and say, “there we are right there — oh my was that something to see.”)”
We have that with the August 2015 game in Philly where David Wright returned from the disabled list (as it was then known) and the Mets hit 8 home runs. We can see Ross jumping up and down in the 9th inning after Cespedes’ homer :)
this all begs the question: has anyone come across the broadcast from game two after 9/11?
so much catharsis that night. a buddy and me were right above the mets dugour, and high-fived the songef of god-bless america after her final notes.
would love to see that!
sorry folks
*dugout
*singer
i blame multitasking, small screen.
LGM!!
Donovans! An essential Woodside landmark practically since there was such a place as Woodside. Excellent choice for a triumphant pint or three.
“…Grimaces. (Grimaci?)”
I believe the expression is Grimii.
If the Mets can’t win the World Series — and, actually, looking at the field now, I think they CAN — the next-best thing to me would be for their season to last at least one day longer than the Yankees’ season does.
Like most of you, I really wanted to see Peterson close it out. I figured, you leave him in, you keep Diaz warm just in case. But Diaz is Mendoza’s closer, and he called on him to close, and despite it being WAY more dramatic than it needed to be, Edwin did get the job done. And maybe it doesn’t matter, but on the other hand, maybe Diaz learned something from his struggles, and maybe it was the boost he needed. Either way, you gotta respect Mendoza’s approach. I’m past questioning him at this point.
The amazing thing is, that was exactly the kind of game the Mets used to lose. The LOBsters come back to haunt them, they lose, and have to face a do-or-die vs. Wheeler in Philly. But that was then. Anything is possible now. And no matter how it goes, this season has been a raging success by every metric.
like jason’s mookie shirt, i’m sure we all have certain apparel or behaviors for the most important games.
last night i not only wore my alonso tee, my mets neck gator and my city connect black cap — all of which i wore tuesday night at citi — but i listened to howie’s pbp in my bedroom, only shuttling to the den to watch whatever good thing howie described 7 seconds earlier. yes, i’m 11 years old.
the repeated runs back and forth, especially in the late innings, made me feel like i’d earned my share of the joy the mets provided us.
what a series, what a stretch, what a season. and more to come. LGM!
Another great fielding play by Alonso, securing another half-hop throw during the game. He seems to make these plays every night, and without missing any.
If not for his fantastic clutch fielding, this team would be nowhere!
Pay the man!
I wanted Peterson to finish the game. However, the benefit of using Diaz to close out the NLDS is the last game he pitched was on Oct 6. The Mets’ next game is on Oct 13. Diaz needed the work.
Also, there’s something satisfying about having your closer on the mound at the end of a postseason series win (see: Orosco, J.).
The Mets bullpen is leaky and shaky. Fortunately, Peterson is proving to be reliable out of the bullpen in the playoffs, which is the top benefit of reintegrating Senga in the rotation. If closing out the NLDS helps revitalize Diaz for the NLCS and beyond, the Mets need it.
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