When two .410-ish teams get together, one of them has to win, right?
But why is that, exactly?
Imagine if Rob Manfred had marched onto the field in the seventh inning with the score Mets 9, Royals 9, taken the umpires aside and then commandeered one of the mics they use to confirm that they’ve screwed up another call.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we appreciate your coming out to Citi Field tonight — and you certainly have had plenty of excitement. But for the good of us all, this spectacle cannot be allowed to continue. My meteorological experts tell me that the mist that descended an inning or two ago, mercifully obscuring at least some of the horrors before us, was actually composed of the tears of baseball fans who know our great game is not supposed to resemble this farce. Therefore, after consultation with a majority of owners and the players’ union, I am invoking a little-known power I hold as commissioner and declaring this game over. Though the final score is tied, the statistics will be stricken from the record and a loss will be recorded for both teams — and, if we’re being honest, for all of us.”
Would that have been any less ridiculous than what actually happened?
Three runs for the Mets on a first-inning comebacker that somehow sparked a trio of Royals errors.
Horrifying gag job outings by Kodai Senga [1] and Austin Warren [2] to erase a pair of Met three-run leads and then a four-run lead.
The first-base ump ruling a long drive by Jorge Polanco [3] to be a home run when it zipped to the right of the foul pole without changing direction by the slightest angle. (Hey you — no.)
Someone named Tyler Tolbert [4] collecting five hits, meaning he’d gone 12 for 12 and tied a major-league record, with his last three hits on grounders to the infield that Tolbert simply outran. (The streak ended when an overeager Tolbert got under a 2-0 cutter from A.J. Minter [5] and proved unable to outrun a flyout.)
The Mets losing for just the second time in their history — and the first time ever at home — when scoring 12 runs.
And, most cruelly of all, the MLB debut for 31-year-old Matt Seelinger [6]. Called up to the big leagues after toiling in the minors since 2017, Seelinger said before the game that he couldn’t dream it up any better. With the Mets’ bullpen sorely taxed going into the game and having failed spectacularly during it, Seelinger got the call in a 9-9 game that had featured everything except the outfield walls gushing blood like Citi Field had turned into the Overlook Hotel.
Honestly? They should have made David Stearns pitch.
Over the next half hour Seelinger gave up seven runs, alternately walking guys and getting tattooed, as 33,000 people hid behind their giveaway beach towels and Andy Green [7] winced. To his considerable credit, Seelinger then went back out to the mound and gave the Mets another inning, one that went a lot better, though I hate to point out that’s largely because it really couldn’t have gone worse. If A.J. Ewing [8] doesn’t make a nice catch at the top of the wall … oh, let’s not.
Seelinger will undoubtedly now find himself in Syracuse, because that’s the cruel reality of bullpen churn in the modern game. I hope he gets another chance; absent that, I hope the gory details fade while the memory of that first big-league strikeout and putting up a zero the second time around remain sharp.
But at least Seelinger finally got an MLB line for his Baseball Reference entry. The rest of us just got older — and definitely not wiser, if we watched all of whatever that was [9]. To our families and friends, if you haven’t written us off already, please for the love of God schedule our interventions.