We had guests up here at the house in Maine, so when I got to belatedly check on the Mets I did a double take. NYM 5, ATL 2? Really?
Really. A little sleuthing revealed that Brett Baty had ambushed Bryce Elder with his first career grand slam, following an oh so modern bit of confusion on the basepaths. Bo Bichette, who’d continued looking more like his Toronto self by singling in the game’s first run, got tagged out at second on what should have been strike three to Carson Benge (and an inning-ending double play) but was ruled as ball four, with Elder tapping his cap to challenge too half-heartedly for Andy Fletcher’s notice. Or something.
That meant a four-run swing in favor of the forces of good when Baty connected three batters later, but I’m still shaking my head. I don’t mind replay review for significant calls (fingers momentarily drifting off a base while sliding in = not significant) and I think balls and strikes should be called as accurately as possible. But challenges, in their various forms, slow things down and introduce more human error into a process intended to remove it. Which is absurd, to say nothing of the idea that there’s a numerical limit on getting things correct. It’s high time to fully automate balls and strikes and turn replay review over to New York, with managers and players as observers, not participants.
(It was a weird inning umpire-wise from the jump: A.J. Ewing doubled; Ronald Acuna Jr. pleaded that the ball was stuck under the wall, which it wasn’t; the Mets’ challenge was upheld; the challenge didn’t matter because the umps had signaled the end of the play; Ewing was told to stay on second rather than advancing to third. Don’t read that again, because it didn’t make any sense; that one was probably destined for Shrug Land no matter what.)
From there the game turned into one of those Tortoise & the Hare specials: Christian Scott struggled, as young pitchers are going to do even when not coming back from Tommy John surgery, while Brent Suter kept the Mets at bay. It was 5-2 and then 6-2 (thank you Jared Young) and then 7-2 (thank you Francisco Lindor) but then 7-3 and 7-4 and 7-5.
7-5 and the Mets needed to secure 12 more outs before the Braves scored to more runs, which struck me and probably you as a perilous proceeding; with Devin Williams now on the IL, the Mets were officially working with an entirely different bullpen than they crafted for Opening Day, not that Williams has inspired particular confidence at any point while wearing orange and blue.
But best to keep Joaquin Andujar‘s favorite word in mind; as is so often the case with baseball, youneverknow. Nate Lavender secured the first three needed outs, with Daniel Duarte locking down the next six with a little help from Cristian Pache, inserted for defense by Andy Green at exactly the right time.
The Mets added a highly welcome run in the ninth and on came new closer … Kodai Senga? Yes, that was Kodai out there, tasked with getting through Matt Olson, Michael Harris II and Ozzie Albies. Yipes!
But Senga navigated the last three outs without undue difficulty, which a more optimistic person (i.e., not a Mets fan) might see as potentially significant. Senga’s fastball and ghost fork are both plus-plus pitches which one would think more than enough to buzz through enemy lineups for a single inning; short stints should add a little oomph to the fastball, and sidelining Senga’s other secondary pitches might well turn out to be a case of addition by subtraction.
Senga mucked around with other pitches a little more than I would have liked, but the results spoke for themselves: an 8-5 win and his first career save. It was also good to see Senga waving for Benge to hang onto the ball; Senga’s been through a lot in the last couple of years, with plenty of blame to go around for his various misfortunes, and I was glad to see him wanting a keepsake from a new role that was far from his first choice.
Senga didn’t get his souvenir; Benge had tossed the ball into the stands and arrived for the handshake line with a sheepish look that made me laugh. Given everything that’s gone wrong for the Mets in 2026, it’s a misstep everyone will happily weather.
When the score had closed to 7-5 at a not-quite-a-late-enough inning, I was waiting for the eventual implosion resulting in what I hypothesizing to be a 11-7 loss. Sometimes we are gleefully incorrect.
I was convinced the journeyman’s bullpen would give it up too. Too bad Pintaro had the WP. Otherwise he might’ve gotten his first W. And I can’t believe Darling was right picking Baty to have a big game.
So Senga is a 1-inning pitcher? Check. And he never got his souvenir? This throwing the ball into the stands thing has gotten out of hand; it’s almost like a reflex now. Think before you chuck!
I must be a case of arrested development because I’m already thinking if they keep winning at this pace what’ll their record be at the end of the season? Do I gotta believe?
If they kept up this 6-1 pace they’d finish with 89 wins, but I find that somewhat unlikely.
Just think. If the Mets end up tied eith the Braves for a playoff spot, they own the tiebreaker by virtue of having won the season series.
Sorry Jason, but to me this is the Mets at their most Mestsian. I’m too young to remember the Polo Grounds/early Shea years, but I’ve read that the “futile rally” – scoring runs in bunches in late innings, but not enough to win the game because the opponent had run up an insurmountable score – was a feature of those early Mets teams. What are we experiencing but the futile rally on a seasonal basis, not game-by-game?
In any event, it’s certainly more fun to watch this than what preceded it before the trade deadline. And every once in a while ( as recently as two years ago, in fact) something catches fire for a while and a run of whatever length is made. It’s nice to dream….
Speaking of Tommy John (the original, not the surgery or the underwear), he appeared to say goodbye to America in a warm and heartfelt statement, as apparently, he is in hospice at the moment. He was one of the good guys in baseball, though always taking a backseat to Don Sutton, who was not.