“Trade or release everybody!” is an understandable if impulsive answer to the question, “What the hell should the Mets do next, now that they’ve been swept at home by the Colorado Rockies, having shown no more than scant traces of life in losing their Sunday doubleheader?”
Within reason, it may also be the correct one.
The Mets designated Tommy Pham [1] for assignment following the 3-0 shutout [2] that followed the 3-1 loss [3] that topped off the weekend set that commenced with a 4-3 defeat. The lone highlight from Friday to Sunday was the rainout Saturday. DFA’ing Pham was a slight step in the gotta-do-something direction. Nothing against Pham, but Tommy went nothing-for-thirteen during his two-week Recidivist stint. We already had a passel of players capable of doing that without excavating a 38-year-old journeyman.
Pham is slated to be replaced by the aptly named Austin Slater [4], another veteran outfielder (32), also designated for assignment by a likely non-contender, in his case the Marlins. Welcome to Queens, Austin.
But you can go, too.
Juan Soto. Nolan McLean. Carson Benge. Keep them.
Everybody else goes up for grabs. Everybody on the active roster. Everybody on the injured list, assuming you can successfully shop players who aren’t available to play immediately. Francisco Lindor is more like Francisco Limbo, given his IL stint, but I’d listen if he tempts anybody. Steve Cohen can pay off whoever and whatever needs to be paid off, lest his baseball product constitute a neighborhood blight on his new casino complex.
Leave the prospects at Triple-A and below alone for now. But put the word out that anybody who’s making this team what it is — out of it for 2026 — can be had.
A tad over one-sixth of the schedule has been played. The Mets have played themselves off the competitive map. At 9-19 they are tied for dead last in the National League East and the National League Wild Card standings. A record of 9-19 is ludicrously bad. It is what the Mets of 1962 were after a sixth-and-a-tad. Disappointing teams go 12-16. Disastrous teams go 9-19.
So it’s time to be Bill Veeck and put out the OPEN FOR BUSINESS [5] sign. Don’t make this a fire sale, but cultivate offers. There are players here contenders will crave, players who I wouldn’t be looking to dismiss if not for this season having imploded on contact. Some contracts won’t look too bad to somebody on the edge of a playoff race. Deals might not come to fruition right away, but get the ball rolling.
Admittedly, I don’t know who’s going to grease the transactional wheel, since in this mood, I’m not endorsing David Stearns stick around. Carlos Mendoza, either. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s everybody’s fault. Everybody can go.
Except Soto, who’s one of the great hitters in the game and isn’t going anywhere with that contract, anyway; McLean, who already qualifies to join the Mets Aces Union’s ongoing class action suit for non-support; and Benge, who needs to grow up in a less hopeless atmosphere, one I’d like to see start being created ASAP.
Everybody else I’m not that attached to. I’ve come to like Clay Holmes, but he can probably bring back a bounty. Francisco Alvarez is a very rootable guy, but that’s not the same as a star in the making, which I could swear was what he was supposed to be. Somebody is likely to see something in Mark Vientos or Brett Baty. Ronny Mauricio probably deserves a shot to show what he’s got, but this squad isn’t inspiring lists of absolute untouchables.
As for those Mets who’ve been brought in lately, none has been on hand long enough to be missed. A scout will notice the flaw in Bo Bichette’s approach. An analytic will reveal Marcus Semien is far more valuable than he appears. A pitching coach in a distant land will want to get his hands on Freddy Peralta and any useful bullpen arm, including fresh-faced Carl Edwards, Jr. [6], the 35-year-old righty lucky enough to have grabbed a ticket on the Titanic just as the iceberg proved not merely a rumor. Whoever and whatever. The Mets should aspire to be a full-service retailer before July is done.
This season is effectively over in everything but length. Fun will be had where we find it. Five-dollar hot dogs on Tuesday nights and gate giveaways if you’re in the mood to line up (though I imagine the lines will grow shorter as the homestands turn morbid). Eric Byrnes screaming about car repairs and the snotty teenage daughter who’s upset about the malfunctioning hot tub at her parents’ vacation rental notwithstanding, televised baseball is still an attraction to stubborn souls who can overlook their own team having become unwatchable. Me, I’ll generally watch whoever the Mets suit up.
But I’d really prefer not to watch so many who are wearing their uniform at present.