Here’s an interesting exercise: consider how we would have assessed Thursday’s Mets-Cubs finale if it had come in June, or even mid-August.
I probably would have led with an acknowledgment of how much Brett Baty [1] has grown as a player, on both sides of the ball. Baty’s three-run homer off Shota Imanaga [2] in the third made it 6-0 Mets, which seemed like a comfortable margin at the time, though oh just wait. That was significant enough, but it was also an episode of welcome lefty-on-lefty violence. And Baty chipped in a nifty defensive play as well, making a barehanded grab of a little roller and following it with a strong throw.
Baty still has ABs where he looks out of kilter, but all MLB players do and confirmation bias plays a huge role in what we notice and what we don’t; he’s grown into a reliable complementary player in a year that’s seen Mark Vientos [3] deal with growing pains, and that’s a very positive development for the future.
Yep, I might have led with that. Or maybe I’d have dissected Nolan McLean [4], and waxed philosophical about young pitchers specifically and how maddening the art of pitching is in general. McLean looked electric against the Cubs in the early innings, befuddling them with his sweeper and curve — with two strikes Cub hitters knew what was coming and it didn’t matter, as the horizontal break of McLean’s breaking stuff is just too difficult to track: An apparent middle-middle pitch turns into a dart boring in on the back foot, your bat slashes through where the ball was a second ago but no longer is, and it’s too late.
Given a big lead, McLean started pitching more aggressively, another key starter’s lesson he seems to be learning early — including not to get too flustered if this kind of aggressive mound work yields a solo homer or two. He also looked like he’d ride to the rescue of the beleaguered bullpen — until with one out in the sixth it looked like the tank went from about a third full to E and blinking red all at once.
Seriously, that was a little weird: McLean started the inning by fanning Nico Hoerner [5] on a sinker and then everything decayed, with his location off and the zip on his pitches noticeably diminished. Ten pitches later, there’d been a walk, a ground-rule double and a three-run Seiya Suzuki [6] homer that let the Cubs back in the game and left McLean in the dugout contemplating a start that suddenly looked like a Rorschach test.
But we still have storylines left to go. Maybe I would have given thanks for Tyrone Taylor [7], who chipped in a two-run double and his usual crisp outfield play. I’m sure Cedric Mullins [8] is a nice guy, but I’d be happy spending the rest of 2025 without seeing him in center again.
Or how about Francisco Lindor [9]? A 30-30 season is something to savor, and Lindor’s career arc in New York is one we’ll talk about for generations. Those thumbs-down gestures and the rat-raccoon nonsense seems so blissfully long ago, with Lindor now a perennial MVP candidate and becoming a civic institution in blue and orange.
I’d like to think I’d have found time to offer a salute to Gary Cohen: Besides his usual sterling play by play, he knew the any-runners-move-up-a-base rule immediately when Dansby Swanson [10] toppled into the stands to corral a first-inning pop-up from Vientos that gave the Mets an unlikely 1-0 lead and Vientos an even more unlikely RBI. Plenty of players and a good number of fine announcers don’t know the rulebook the way Cohen does; his preparation lets him instantly move past sorting out what’s happened to what it means. (I’m still awed by his call of the long ago game-ending unassisted triple play [11] against the Phils: That’s a play no announcer expects to witness in his career, you can’t rehearse it, and it happens instantaneously. Cohen nailed it [12].)
Yes, all of these things would have been fun building blocks from which to build a recap in June or even mid-August. But not in Game 159, with the Reds breathing down the Mets’ necks and tapping that “We Have the Tiebreaker” sign menacingly.
No, Game 159 meant 6-0 and 8-2 leads still felt too small. It meant bemoaning the incredible defensive showcase put on by the Cubs and swearing emphatically because the Mets could easily have scored 10 or 12. It meant sweating 11 outs to get and exhorting Ryne Stanek [13] and Brooks Raley [14] and Tyler Rogers [15] and Edwin Diaz [16] to get them while feeling spikes of anxiety about how necessary outs will possibly be obtained against Miami. (For the record: All four did their jobs, with Raley looking unhittable and Rogers the best he’s been as a Met.)
It also meant that the joy of a must-win [12] lasted about six seconds before curdling into worry about these three remaining games in Miami. The Marlins are eliminated, a lot later than most anyone thought they would be, but even a late-April game at Soilmaster Stadium feels like a bad idea, and God knows the Marlins have ruined the end of seasons before.
But hey, that’s what happens when you’re pushing through Game 159 with destiny still to be determined. Plenty of good storylines, but right now they’ll wait. Survival is the only thing.