Somebody Else’s Old Friend

I wasn’t wishing any ill will toward Huascar Brazobán when he came into Saturday night’s game to face his former team, beyond hoping his former team would rough him up gently.

It was the seventh inning of a game the Mets were leading, 7-5, an evening pervaded by the sense that this game could be going a lot better for us or a lot worse. The seven runs didn’t seem like enough. The five runs seemed too many. Carson Benge near-robbery of a Tristan Peters home run underpinned the evening to this point. I’m always put off by the idea that an outfielder almost made a great play. “Almost? You mean he didn’t catch it.” But Carson Benge almost made a great play, nearly robbing Tristan Peters of a home run. He leapt like he was Fernando Tatis, Jr., except his glove revealed nothing but air. There was deflection, which should be worth something, but close only counts in Carpenters songs on their way to the top of the charts.

Benge’s best effort — and the faceful of fence he absorbed — occurred leading off the home third in Chicago. The emptiness in his glove made the score Mets 4 White Sox 2. It would be 4-3 before the inning was out. Two Met homers that touched nobody’s glove, swatted by Bo Bichette and Luis Robert, Jr., had put the Mets ahead by three in the top of the third. But then we left two on, so a touch of uneasiness grew to at least a tap on the shoulder when the gap closed so quickly.

The Mets scored three more for Christian Scott (and themselves, one supposes) in the fifth, featuring a solo homer from Benge, whose continued presence and performance pronounced himself fit. In the middle of the mini-onslaught was Eric Wagaman coming out of exile and off the bench to drive home a run as a pinch-hitter for DH Brett Baty. The White Sox had recently changed pitchers, from righty starter Luis Castillo to lefty reliever Tyler Schweitzer, I presume, and Andy Green noticed. The designated hitter is a scam of a position, anyway. It’s a pinch-hitter dressed up as a regular four or more times per game. You should be allowed to PH for the DH with whoever you want, even if they’re not on the roster. Announce Abe Lincoln into the game; what the hell, you’re in Illinois.

The Mets moved up, 7-3, in that fifth inning, and all Scott had to do to slot himself in for his fifth win of more or less his first full season was get three outs without giving up four runs. The good news was he didn’t give up four runs. I don’t think he was trying to, either, but geez if he wasn’t determined to stretch out a tightrope and audition for the Wallendas.

Hit a guy with a pitch.
Walked a guy on a full count.
Struck a guy out on a full count.
Threw a wild pitch.
Walked another guy on a full count to load the bases.
Struck another guy out on a full count.
Walked the next guy on a full count to force in a run.

So much for the three outs. The Sox had pulled to within 7-4, they had bags full of themselves, and had Colson Montgomery — half of Chicago’s capital of Alabama contingent — up against new pitcher Jonathan Pintaro. Pintaro struck out C. Montgomery to strand three. Had that been the entirety of Jonathan’s involvement Saturday night, we’d have raised mimosas in his honor this Sunday morning. But Pintaro didn’t have it in the sixth, so please hold your glasses. The four batters he faced in the sixth produced three runners and a run to make it 7-5. Nervous sips became appropriate. Out went Pintaro. In came Austin Warren. Austin (speaking of state capitals) loaded the bases. But he left them that way, so hoist your brunch drinks high.

This is how we got Huascar being on for the Sox to start the seventh, and me feeling bad when I saw his stats on the South Side were not nearly as gleaming as they’d been in Flushing. I don’t like the idea of fans in other places deciding they received a stiff from the Mets. Brazobán was one of our steadiest hands this year and pretty decent the past two years. Why our reputation with American League strangers should matter to me, I don’t know. Put an American League team in front of me, I want to impress anybody who’s watching. I also wanted the Mets to increase their two-run lead.

One out in, we cashed in on my desire, via Luis Robert, Jr.’s second home run of the night. Now this was a twist! We’re convinced we’re always done in by the vengeful bat of an Old Friend™ (see “d’Arnaud, Travis: shudders caused by mere appearance”). It rarely occurs to us it can work the other way, especially when it’s somebody else’s Old Friend™ facing one of ours on the mound for them. Got those pronouns straight? Robert — who I’m more comfortable referring to by full name, junior included, probably because I don’t believe I’ve gotten to know him much as a Met — had been booed consistently if not unmercifully in the first two game of this series at Not Quite Comiskey Park. I don’t know what the Sox fans’ Vienna Beef is with him, exactly, other than he missed a lot of time while he was one of theirs and now, for this weekend at least, he’s healthy and playing. I try not to meddle in other fans’ affairs, especially in the other league, but I’d advise easing up on Luis. You’re in first place without him.

But you weren’t extending your first-place lead with him belting his second home run of the night against you, which is to say for us. Luis Robert, Jr., put the Mets ahead, 8-5, which felt really good, if not quite good enough. It was the kind of game that you weren’t sure wasn’t being played under Family Feud rules. I half-expected Steve Harvey to step out to home plate and tell the White Sox they now had a chance to steal all the runs on the board.

Baseball doesn’t work that way. This baseball game worked in such a way that after Warren and Dedniel Nuñez handled the seventh and eighth, respectively, without incident, Green had another chance to do some managing. The grand master of exceeded expectations Jared Young was on third after doubling and advancing on a wild pitch. One man was out. An extra run was going to be delightful if attained. The DH position — again, a total scam — was up. Andy pinch-hit Luis Torrens for Wagaman. It wasn’t a righty-lefty thing, as the White Sox were pitching Trevor Richards a righty, and that’s the side from which Torrens bats. It was a conviction that if you need a fly ball, you put in Luis Torrens.

And if you’d like a fly ball that keeps going, you sit back and watch Luis Torrens go deep. He does it basically every other at-bat, and he did it here. The Mets were up, 10-5. You could have almost sharpened the pencil you use for putting it in the books right there, except Green opted to deploy his closer to protect a five-run lead in the ninth. I don’t care that the closer is Kodai Senga, and he’s been a closer for about two weeks. No closer responds flawlessly to a non-save opportunity. It zips inside their frigging DNA as soon as somebody hangs the “closer” label on them. Naturally, Senga walked his first batter and gave up a hit to his second. A little less naturally but far more pleasingly, Kodai got his next three men and protected the 10-5 lead with no damage, save for his Sunday availability, but that’s Andy Green’s problem…and maybe ours if there’s a lead nine innings from now.

Definitely one of those games in which the Mets’ edge never felt safe, even after it went final. That’s why they put erasers on pencils, Bob Murphy said. Doesn’t mean you always have to use them.