Signals of Further Futility

A lot of signals emerge from a season that’s cratered, and as a veteran Mets fan, I have enough experience with craters to have grown familiar with them. Last night’s 2-1 loss to the Phillies, the maiden voyage of the SS Andy Green, brought another jolt of recognition: Ah yes, it’s the loss that somehow doesn’t sting as much because this time it wasn’t super embarrassing.

Which, if you think about it, is a signal of just how much has gone horribly wrong. The Mets just lost — it’s not like they made six errors, or left multiple shell-shocked relievers with new bouts of PTSD, or doofed up a new brace of ABS challenges, or made a mockery of the game with a ticky-tack replay review of an overslide on a walk. Just to bring up a few recent indignities in what’s been a dreadfully long string, with more of them to come.

No, they just lost. Lost because Zach Thornton looked nervous early against his fellow Zach/k before settling down; because Derek Hill robbed Juan Soto with a circus catch you’ll see between innings for years (with a pretty solid defensive coda from Brandon Marsh a few innings later); because Huascar Brazoban had an off inning (at this point he’s entitled to one or two); and because Zack Wheeler is awfully good.

Thornton pitched well after that rocky first — and most importantly, he was aggressive when too many Mets starters have looked like they don’t trust their stuff. And Jared Young showed why the first-base job should be his, making several sparkling plays and contributing the Mets’ lone run at the plate. Young even used the ABS challenge system correctly … though 2026 being what it is, his subsequent challenge went for nought, with that little slice of pink confirming that the ballgame had ended. In a lost season, Young at least is a good story — a Cubs prospect turned suspect who rebuilt his career with a solid season in Korea. It’s the kind of story we hear more and more with baseball having downsized the minor leagues. That eliminated a lot of slots for players, particularly guys like Young who’ve slipped into Quad-A status. Now, instead of bouncing between Triple-A affiliates hoping for a break, those players are re-establishing themselves in Korea or the Mexican League or indy ball.

But anyway, the Mets lost and somehow it didn’t hurt that much. But in a good stretch, yeah, that one would have stung like hell.

A couple of random thoughts before 2026’s delightful death march resumes:

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Veteran Faith and Fear readers might remember that Andy Green had a cameo with the Mets back in 2009, another star-crossed season. Green’s first Mets AB was a source of unexpected delight amid the misery of that year, tinged (inevitably) with irony. Greg and I were both there, and his retelling of the story is one of my all-time favorites.

“Understudy steps into the starring role and dreams come true” is a time-honored storytelling trope, but I believe the Mets that this is a three-month gig for Green before he goes back to running the farm system, and not an audition for a permanent gig. (And if there is a clamor for Green to become manager, then hey, things will have gone uncharacteristically well.) And it could be a good fit: Green is familiar with a number of the young Mets, having overseen their development, and hopefully he’ll have a lot more kids under his tutelage as the team sheds various disappointments and deadwood. I will happily take watching Zach Thornton and prospects yet unglimpsed every fifth day over more throwing up my hands about Kodai Senga and what’s happening between his ears, thanks very much.

As for Carlos Mendoza, I think Greg was on point as usual. I didn’t think the major problems with the Mets were Mendoza’s fault — managers don’t control lineups and playing time they way they once did, and while Mendoza’s bullpen management was exasperating, there are 29 other fanbases who also think their manager sucks at this. But when the ax finally fell, the Mets had been inexplicably terrible for a full calendar year — and when that’s the case, there’s no such thing as an unjust firing.

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By now I’ve accepted that just the sight of Zack Wheeler leaves me fuming. The Wilpons were notorious for using their proxies to shit-talk players once they departed, but they outdid themselves with Wheeler. At the end of 2019, you may remember, Wheeler hit free agency after injury-riddled but promising years with the Mets. The Phillies came calling, Wheeler heard their offer and circled back to the Mets … and heard nothing. So he signed on for five years in Philadelphia.

That was when the Wilpons sent out useless mannequin Brodie Van Wagenen, whom they’d hired to be a plastic-smile Pinkerton, to tell reporters that “our health and performance department, our coaches, all contributed and helped him parlay two good half-seasons over the last five years into $118 million, so I am proud of what our group was able to help him accomplish.”

So how’d that little bit of bitchiness work out? When Wheeler leaves Philly, it will be for Cooperstown; if you live near Van Wagenen, do me a solid and key his car.

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Lastly, I was amused by the fans chanting “PETE A-LON-SO!” the other night after Mark Vientos made another hideous gaffe at first.

On the surface, that was pretty unfair: Vientos shouldn’t be at first base (or anywhere else that involves a glove on his hand), and Pete Alonso was frankly terrible over there by the end of his Mets tenure.

But Vientos wasn’t the fans’ real target — they were taking aim at David Stearns. Since Stearns will never stand on the field to face the music himself, I thought that was a brilliant way for the fans to let him know their verdict.

And why stop there? Should Jorge Polanco ever return, let him inherit the “PETE A-LON-SO” chant. When Marcus Semien comes back, give him a full-throated rendition of “BRAN-DON NIM-MO!” Serenade Devin Williams with “ED-WIN DI-AZ!”

The players will get it. So will Stearns and the Cohens. And they’ve all thoroughly earned it.