The best chance for Mets fans to enjoy some happy days rather than endure more dog days as mid-August inevitably commences shedding summer will appear on the Citi Field mound this afternoon when Nolan McLean makes his major league debut. I was going to call it his hotly anticipated major league debut, but it’s almost impossible to imagine eagerly looking forward to anything the Mets are doing right now.
That’s a shame. When we close our eyes and picture ourselves enjoying Mets baseball in the idealized sense, we probably see ourselves in the stands having a fine old time, maybe watching on TV or listening to the radio, so glad we have our team stoking our enthusiasm, filling our hours, nourishing our affinity. Then we open our eyes and we have this Mets team playing these Mets games, and it’s not remotely what we dream of when it’s not baseball season. It’s the stuff of nightmares in this baseball season.
From June 13 forward, including Friday night’s 11-9 loss to the Seattle Mariners — the scores change, the opponents change, the result doesn’t — the Mets’ record is 19-34. Among all MLB teams, only the Washington Nationals have been worse over that span. When Jorge Lopez and the Mets stumbled to a 22-33 start in 2024, we were convinced we’d hit rock bottom, which we did as regarded last year’s trajectory. Math indicates 19-34 is a lesser pace than 22-33, which itself suggests new lows are always within reach. Perhaps instead of posing and grinning with an oversized sandal to revel in fleeting triumphs, a Met needs to angrily fling a glove into the seats and effect an attitudinal reset.
The Mets are apparently capable of scoring nine runs in a given game, but not without giving up eleven, according to our latest sample size. Four home runs, including two with runners on base, should have been enough. Five innings of nearly adequate starting pitching, from Sean Manaea, should have provided ample cushion to get through the rest of this particular evening. When Manaea left ahead, 6-4, the stage was set for SuperBullpen to protect the lead. One of the pen’s more ballyhooed components, submarining Tyler Rogers, gave up one run in the sixth, which wasn’t great, but it was just one run. We’ll call the battle of submariner versus some Mariners a draw.
Enter Ryan Helsley to pitch the seventh. We’ll call that a slaughter. Helsley, more than any relief reinforcement, is the reason we were advised post-deadline that we could withstand speeding bullets, powerful locomotives, marauding Mariners, whatever. It turns out SuperBullpen is an urban myth. Helsley faced three batters, providing him the opportunity to allow Seattle to tie the game at six and position them to bolt ahead. St. Louis’s revenge for our stealing Keith Hernandez handed a runner at second to Brooks Raley, who had pitched well before not pitching at all of late. Pitching again, Raley permitted Helsley’s runner to score, then three more of his own to do the same.
That was pretty much the game, this game pretty much the same as all the others over the past few weeks. Francisco Lindor’s two homers, Juan Soto’s solo shot (his favorite kind), and Francisco Alvarez’s admirable attempt at heroics via a three-run, eighth-inning bomb, couldn’t measure up to the sheer Metsiness of the moment. I’m not sure if these Mets consistently find ways to lose or stop short of sincerely seeking a way to win. I do know the ultimate Met destination doesn’t distinguish between wayward Met journeys.
To make room for Nolan McLean on the roster, Paul Blackburn has been DFA’d, presumably because this pitching staff has room for only one Frankie Montas. The Mets haven’t yet designated the stubbornly present Rock Bottom for assignment, as Rock Bottom’s assignment is not yet clear. One game after another seems the worst of an ongoing skid, but the skid continues unabated, so who can tell? Manaea’s return, like Kodai Senga’s, was going to be a remedy. Neither was. Raley’s return was going to plug a hole. It hasn’t. The acquisitions of late-inning stalwarts like Helsley was going to put a definitive halt to the pervading sense of nonsense. Now, we can tell ourselves until 4:10, it will be McLean. And, indeed, maybe a strong start from young Nolan will make us briefly forget the disaster that has been ragged Ryan.
Good luck, kid. And good luck to us in case we strain to remember how much we like Mets baseball. Not this Mets baseball, but however we idealized it in our heads long ago.
Stoic Mendoza is apparently incapable of embarrassment – but his nervous post-game grin suggests a mental breakdown is just around the corner.
Happy? The Mets are plenty happy. They’re happy every time they score a run in the fourth inning and then beclown themselves by doing a group pose for the dugout camera.
They’re happy every time somebody hits a double with no one on base and then does that preposterous double arm motion towards the dugout.
They seem much happier about taking leads in the middle of games they eventually lose than they seem upset when they inevitably do lose that same game.
The in-dugout celebrations in the middle of a game that has not been won yet is the equivalent of a middle finger to fans who actually do care (and who probably shouldn’t).
Win a few freaking games in a row before you even think about preening for the camera in the dugout.
I’m not quite ready to call what Sean Manaea did last night “nearly adequate,” but perhaps I’ll get there someday. I guess a full 5 innings is pretty impressive these days.
Gonna miss McLean today.
Unfortunately I saw the game last night.
Definition of insanity. Going back to the same method when it hasn’t worked over and over and hoping it works thus time. Helsley = insanity.
Overreacting to a bad stretch – for Helsley or for the team as a whole – is a bad idea.
But underreacting is every bit as bad, and that’s clearly what’s happening right now. Optimistically, Helsley seems to need a few low-leverage outings to straighten himself out. (Pessimistically, well… no need to go there quite yet.) And the lineup – well, right now the draw-a-lineup-out-of-a-hat concept seems pretty attractive.
McLean can’t be expected to go deep into the game today, but hopefully he can pitch four or five shutout innings and pick up a no decision.
After 1986, the Mets let Ray Knight go to give the spot to Howard Johnson. Logical move. But I thought Knight’s pugilistic attitude was a key for the 1986 team. Knight was MVP of that world series. No playoffs in 1987. Last year, Iglesias’ OMG attitude was a key. I’m wondering if the logical move of handing his spot over to the rookies cost them in the short term.