Mets Hit Refresh

On my position player callup anticipation scale that ranges from Who? to Strawberry, I’d estimate A.J. Ewing ranked somewhere north of Nick Evans, somewhere south of Wilmer Flores. I’d heard of A.J. Ewing. I knew he was valued by those who pay attention to every prospect. I hadn’t banged any drums on his behalf, not even theoretically. I was too depressed by what had been going wrong in New York to think deeply about who was doing what in Syracuse. Yet when the word went forth that A.J. Ewing was en route to the majors, I was excited like I’d been excited to get a look at Gregg Jefferies.

Here’s what stoked my enthusiasm for A.J. Ewing directly in advance of his big league debut on Tuesday: he wasn’t Andy Ibañez, and he wasn’t another Andy Ibañez. No shade intended toward the journeyman OF-3B DFA’d to create space for the first Met born in 2004, a mere six months before this blog came into existence. Somebody had to go. Something had to change.

The appeal of the decision to elevate a quintessential fast riser instead of claiming from waivers a proverbial Quincy Quadruplé was simple. We’d get to witness a fresh face at the outset of his baseball journey, not the next retread who plops his voluminously stickered bags down in the clubhouse for two weeks before moving on in favor of a doppelgänger destined to act out the same role. Enough with the Andy Ibañez Mets.

Let’s Go A.J. Ewing Mets.

The A.J. Ewing Mets didn’t have to beat the Tigers on Tuesday night at Citi Field for refresh to be successfully hit on this sullen season, though they did, handily. The Tigers were frighteningly Metsian in their approach to basically everything in the 10-2 defeat they were dealt. Do you realize the implications of this victory? We’re now 16-25, whereas entering Tuesday we were 15-25. The won-lost column remains wallpaper for now.

What’s not to approve?

The standings will have to slouch in the corner until they develop proper posture. Win or lose, Ewing is the show. Ewing and Carson Benge and whoever they rub off on. The team looked alive in Ewing’s debut. I daresay they were alive. Nobody once had to hold a mirror under the Mets’ nose to determine if there was breathing. The signs of life were as reassuring as Ewing was sensational. The new No. 9 in town walked three times; tripled; stole a base; drove in two runs; scored two runs; ran like the wind off Flushing Bay; and referred in his postgame interview to a feeling that was “undescribable”. We’ll take an innate ability to read the strike zone over perfect grammar every time.

Exactly one game of the A.J. Ewing Era has been completed. Benge commenced his epoch in a similar fashion on Opening Day, pretty much the last time the Mets emitted élan rather than ennui. Then he sank into a big ol’ slump. He’s since emerged. He’s fun to watch. Ewing, pending whatever wall a 21-year-old with limited Triple-A experience might hit once the adrenaline levels off, profiles as fun to watch. A.J. in center, Carson in right. That’s 22.2% of the lineup not making a fan brace for boredom. Other Mets are bound to pick up their pace. They can’t drop it much further.

Ten runs will make every starting pitcher an ace, including the stray openers. Hopefully, Freddy Peralta discovers the seventh inning at some point, but on a night like this one, you’ll accept the six he gritted his way through over 100 pitches. Extra credit is awarded Freddy’s way for backing up third and throwing out a rumbling Colt Keith at the plate at a juncture of the game when the Mets threatened to look as much like the Tigers were already looking like the Mets. Francisco Alvarez made a forceful tag, a little before Alvy hurt his knee swinging and had to exit. He didn’t foul a ball off it or anything. He was just being a 2026 Met in the pre-Ewing sense.

A.J. Ewing looms as a dividing line between what has bummed us out and what might pump us up. His promise and potential have been injected into the Metstream, taking effect with the first dose. If it isn’t a whole new season, it’s definitely a whole new feeling. A few more games of this nature, and it, too, will be…well, undescribable.