100 Proof

The Reds got off to a Metslike start on Sunday, so I took that as a good sign. We’re usually the team that gets off to a Metslike start, Metslike start having developed into a synonym for immediate unease. Chance for a big inning. Leave with a run or two at most when there coulda been/shoulda been more. Load the bases next time up yet score nothing. Reds were ahead, 1-0, in the second inning.

We had them right where we needed them because they had been too much like us. They faced David Peterson, who is the best we can throw at anybody right now. Peterson overcame shaky defense behind him in the first and his own difficulties in the second. He then righted himself as an All-Star starter does. At the moment, at least on whatever we use instead of paper these days, we have something that looks like a starting rotation. Coming out of the break, Peterson is literally in the middle of it. On the mound, he is effectively at the head of it.

Petey held the Reds scoreless after the first inning. The Mets pecked back in the third with a single run and nosed ahead with another single run in the fifth. Luisangel Acuña was instrumental to both rallies. It’s nice to see Acuña get a chance. It’s nice to see any Met be a part of two successful rallies in the same game. With Francisco Alvarez finishing his refresher course at Syracuse and Pete Alonso given the briefest of contusion recovery periods, Luisangel was the only member of last September’s “A” team in Sunday’s lineup. He made his sacrifice bunt matter (for the better, as it pushed Tyrone Taylor to third, en route to coming home on Brandon Nimmo’s game-tying base hit) and his fifth-inning RBI double was the closest thing we had all day to a homer, booming as it did to left to send Brett Baty across the plate from second. Acuña also made a throwing error from second in the first, but a) he was throwing to Mark Vientos, a starting first baseman for the first time all year; and b) he himself rarely plays in the first inning, so maybe he needed time to adjust to the angle of the sun.

Mostly, it was good to see Acuña out there and contributing, and it was great to see Peterson out there and stabilizing the Mets’ situation for six innings. No openers. No bulk guys. No limitations. Just a starting pitcher overcoming early problems and getting us through six, the modern equivalent of eight-and-two-thirds. David gave us 93 pitches. We don’t ask for anything more.

It’s usually splendid to see Edwin Diaz, but his entry in the eighth was surprisingly fraught. Carlos Mendoza brought him in to face the heart of the Reds order with two out and a runner on first. “Everything that can go wrong did go wrong” for Edwin Diaz used to mean Kurt Suzuki hit a grand slam. On Sunday, it boiled down to allowing a stolen base; walking a guy; giving up a single that found a hole to load the bases; and hitting the next batter with the bases loaded. The sky fell in on Edwin Diaz, yet all it did was take us from ahead 2-1 to tied at two. Diaz struck out his next batter to strand all Reds and end the eighth with the score 2-2. He’s gotten pretty good at damage control.

Juan Soto’s services were engaged, in part, so he could hit dramatic home runs in the late innings. He tried that on Saturday. Came achingly close, too. His shot to right would have provided a fabulous boost in a sensational setting, but it went just foul. Even David Wright in a luxury suite thought it was gone. The other thing Juan Soto is collecting on is his ability to walk. That’s sometimes decided by a matter of inches as well, but on Sunday in the ninth, Soto wasn’t umped to death and led off with a walk. Pete, who apparently heals like Polar Bears wear white, struck out, but Jeff McNeil doubled Juan to third. Luis Torrens, enjoying his final day as undisputed starting catcher, grounded to second. Soto did not stay grounded at third. We were told in advance about the power and the patience of Soto, but who knew he was Lou Brock on the basepaths? OK, he’s not Lou Brock, but he’s got that “not lightning fast, but knows what he’s doing” quality to him. Rusty Staub in his first term had that. Kevin McReynolds had that. Juan Soto has it. He takes off from third on Torrens’s grounder and slides home ahead of the throw. The Mets are leading, 3-2. And, when Ryne Stanek holds the fort, the Mets win, 3-2, snapping a three-game losing streak that felt longer, given the many off days in between victories.

We now have a 56-44 team after 100 games, a half-game from first place in the East, and four games clear of the nearest Wild Card contender that’s on the outside looking in. A Mets team doing all that scans as in good shape. This team doing that? I’m not sure what it’s proved after 100 games other than good shape is good, but it could be/should be better. Easy for me to say, not playing baseball in the hot sun. Maybe I’m not taking into account how elusive an actual rotation has been for Mendoza. With Manaea and Kodai Senga back and Frankie Montas seemingly ensconced, we do have one. Clay Holmes’s endurance seems a little iffy, but five solid innings per start, if he can deliver that much, might be (or might have to be) sufficient from a former closer. Peterson is Peterson, which is a reassuring thing to say and mean.

Francisco Lindor’s July 2025 is Francisco Lindor’s April from too many years. Think he won’t return to the land of the living? Think Soto won’t straighten out his deep foul flies and adjust his approach within ever-capricious ump shows? I don’t know what to think of Pete’s bruised hand, but if his version of the injured list was a six-inning stay, we’ll have faith that he’s fine. Among the youthful, somebody’s bound to bust out and become irreplaceable to Mendy. Acuña? Vientos? Baty? Alvarez? Ronny Mauricio? Flashes of brilliance need to transform to sustained light. The pieces are here. The pieces have always been here. The pieces fit when the Mets were 21-9 and 45-24. The whole in the present continues to defy contiguity. There’s something about this team that refuses to click for more than a handful of days. I keep waiting for the multiweek spurt that dismisses all doubt. The wait goes on. The doubt has just ordered in like it’s not planning on leaving.

I thought this would be the year when kvetching about the Mets would an elective rather than a required course. Any Mets fan can kvetch about any Mets angle and often does, but I was going to leave that to the chronically dissatisfied in 2025. We were 21-9 and 45-24. What was there to kvetch about? Turns out Met-kvetching is that comfortable winter coat you forget about during summer, but once you need it, boy does it feel like you never took if off. It feels as if we’re cloaked in reasons to kvetch despite our record and playoff positioning. This team doesn’t allow us to run around in short sleeves.

Acting excited by this team sometimes takes great talent.

It took me a while to conclude that the 2024 Mets were legitimately good. It’s taken me a while to come around to the idea that the 2025 Mets, while undeniably good, may not be that great. Watching them in this series, I couldn’t decide whether this team is exciting or merely capable. Even in games when good plays are made or temporarily big hits are recorded, there is something uninspiring about the 2025 Mets, which is surprising based on the ability to levitate they displayed when things were going fantastic. On Saturday, prior to whichever rally that was destined to fizzle, the enormous scoreboard showed a sizzle reel intended to get everybody’s hopes up. One clip within was of Tom Hanks — not even a Mets fan — leaping to his feet in approval of a Lindor home run. That happened at Citi Field in April. I was shocked to realize it was from the same season that included the game I was watching in front of me. In the game I was watching in front of me, Soto, Alonso, and Vientos struck out in succession in the seventh to keep the Mets behind by three runs, sucking most of the air not to mention all of the good vibes out of the Wright Day crowd. You’d have to be a better actor than Hanks to feign enthusiasm for a half-inning like that…and Hanks owns a pair of Best Actor Oscars.

The kvetching I initially found atonal stemmed, I believe, from 2025 being the first Mets season following a winning-record season to more or less roar out of the gate since 2007 (a loaded example, I grant you). The intervening Mets seasons that succeeded winning-record Mets seasons — 2008, 2009, 2016, 2017, 2020, 2023 — each significantly stumbled or scuffled during the first half; the 2008 and 2016 Mets recovered and seriously contended, while the others did not. Here in 2025, mostly building on the success of 2024, it was as if we didn’t know how to process the ups and occasional downs in progress, because we hadn’t had much recent experience maintaining momentum across calendar years. Lately, except for Sunday, it’s mostly downs and perfectly tonal kvetching in response. We’re 11-20 since the middle of June. If that’s not kvetchworthy, I don’t know what is.

Yet 100 games in, all of which have counted, the Mets are above enough of the pack by enough of a margin that the kvetching feels like something we should be able to look forward to shedding, provided a sustained string of positive outcomes convinces us we can be satisfied with what we’ve got (trade deadline flurry willing) and where we’re going. No team is more convincing than the 2025 Mets. They convince us they’re great when they win, and they convince us they’re anything but when they don’t.