Zac Thornton and a band of relievers were good. The Mets’ bats were better — 19 hits, including three each from A.J. Ewing, Francisco Lindor, Bo Bichette, Marcus Semien and Tyrone Taylor. Lindor had two home runs on a huge night, Semien smashed one into the second deck, and Taylor hit a longball as he continued his absurd hot streak — which is also a beacon begging someone to helicopter him off the Mets’ roof before the trade deadline.
When five guys in the lineup collect three hits each, you’re probably going to win. (Francisco Estrada, not exactly known for his patience, even walked three times!) It helped that the Braves looked weary and ragged, playing the kind of defense we’re more used to seeing from the Mets. With the game creeping out of reach and Atlanta’s bullpen exhausted by previous nights’ efforts, Walt Weiss left poor Connor Thomas out there to absorb a fearful beating: 11 earned runs in two and two thirds. It was tactically smart but cringingly cruel, a Seelingeresque stomping that left Thomas with an ERA for the year of 21.32 — old enough to drink, and a grim bookend for the 20.25 ERA that he posted last year as a Brewer.
Thomas will now undoubtedly become a Gwinnett Striper, while his teammates turn to a rested relief corps bolstered by whatever new arm is rotated in to be abused. That’s cruel too. But I don’t feel too bad for the Braves — first of all, because they’re the Braves, and second of all because they’re headed for October while the Mets are headed for the knacker’s yard.
One night in which hits felt as common as the raindrops isn’t going to reverse those fortunes. But damned if it didn’t feel good to be a peasant feasting in the royal banquet hall for one night. Eat, drink and be merry — for tomorrow, most likely, we go back to being the Mets.
Jason, who is Francisco Estrada? I think you meant Francisco Alvarez.