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ABOUT US
Faith and Fear in Flushing made its debut on Feb. 16, 2005, the brainchild of two longtime friends and lifelong Met fans.
Greg Prince discovered the Mets when he was 6, during the magical summer of 1969. He is a Long Island-based writer, editor and communications consultant. Contact him here.
Jason Fry is a Brooklyn writer whose first memories include his mom leaping up and down cheering for Rusty Staub. Check out his other writing here.
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by Greg Prince on 16 August 2023 12:25 pm “David Peterson.”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s simple, I mention a name or something else, and you tell me the first thing you think of.”
“I understand how word association works. My answer to ‘David Peterson’ is ‘I don’t know.’ I’ve been watching him pitch semi-regularly for four seasons — with Jacob deGrom gone, he’s the active pitcher who’s made more starts as a Met without pitching for any other major league team, 57, than anybody the Mets have ever had — and I still don’t know what to make of him. High pitch count last night, but intestinal fortitude may be getting out of jams. Still young but not as young as he used to be. Sort of successful as a reliever, but that’s not what they need him for. So I don’t know.”
“Most starts as a Met without pitching for any other major league team…is that true?”
“Yeah, it’s a symptom of no Met starter who makes a lot of starts staying only a Met. I wrote about it when deGrom was almost gone. But you’re not asking yes or no questions, I thought.”
“Right, right. OK, let’s get back to that. Jose Butto.”
“Nice for a change. I didn’t even realize they’d recalled him before he started warming up. I read recently that he fell off the Mets Top 30 prospects list, then I realized a list is only a list that reflects where somebody put him. Butto looked pretty good against the Pirates until he ran out of gas.”
“Grant Hartwig.”
“Disappointing last night, though maybe that’s another guy who’s pitching more than was expected. He won the John J. Murphy Award in Spring Training this year for most promising rookie. When Ronny Mauricio is eventually brought up — assuming he’s eventually brought up — that will leave only two John J. Murphy Award winners who didn’t eventually make the majors. One was David Thompson, who topped out in Triple-A, presumably not the same guy who played for the Denver Nuggets in the ’70s and was mentioned on Winning Time this week. He won the award in 2018, and, according to Baseball-Reference, last played professional baseball last year for the Kansas City Monarchs of the American Association, an independent league club with a majestic name. The other was Garth Brooks in 2000. Brooks was no relation to Hubie, who finished third in Rookie of the Year voting in 1981, but never won the Murphy.”
“Colin Holderman.”
“He was the Murphy Award winner in 2022. He also pitched a spotless inning for the Pirates against the Mets last night because a) we traded him to Pittsburgh for Daniel Vogelbach last year; and b) he was a pretty good relief pitcher to begin with, but that’s the kind of trade a contender makes. Notice neither the Pirates nor Mets are a contender now and it’s easy to lose track of which relievers are in the bullpen for the Mets on any given night.”
“Jonathan Araúz.”
“No longer in the One Met Homer Only Club after last night, and he’d only joined it the night before. He’s got two! Funny thing about this guy. Last week he was my avatar of ah, crap, look at who we have to fill lineups out with griping, and this week, even before he homered, I found myself getting used to him, which either speaks well for how he’s been playing, or that I’m deep into acceptance mode with who the 2023 Mets are now. Anyway, he homered. Oh, and braids. Or are they dreads he wears his hair in? I wouldn’t want to be culturally insensitive.”
“DJ Stewart.”
“Another escapee from the One Met Homer Only Club, having pinch-hit and gone deep just before Araúz. I saw him in the on-deck circle, focused on his number and thought, ‘Ike Davis,” which I don’t think I’ve done before. I mean I regularly see uniform numbers and get transported back. I see 20 on Alonso and I think Agee, that sort of thing. So maybe Davis has made it to some new level in my subconscious. “Start Me Up,” am I right? Anyway, that was quite a poke for Stewart. I’m used to him, too. Hey, both these Two Homer Guys got us close last night, right?”
“One Met Homer Only Club.”
“Two current Mets are still members: Omar Narváez and Danny Mendick. Wasn’t Narvaez an All-Star once? And he hit more than 20 home runs in another year. Maybe his second homer is coming soon. The charter member of the One Met Homer Only Club is Gus Bell, and he was an All-Star four times, with more than 200 homers in his career. He just wasn’t a Met every long. Opening Day right fielder in 1962, with Frank Thomas in left, then traded as the player to be named later for Thomas in May. Go figure, as they must’ve said a lot in 1962. Mendick…I don’t know what to tell you there.”
“I didn’t ask. But since we’re in the alphabetical neighborhood of Danny Mendick, Daniel Murphy.”
“He retired yesterday. He’d retired before but came back to give it another go with the Ducks, and when he quacked a few base hits — sorry, I couldn’t help myself — the Angels signed him and sent him to Triple-A. I thought he might be up with them when they came to Citi Field later this month. I guess not. Good for Murph getting it out of his system. Funny how we immerse ourselves in certain guys’ careers, then get steamed at them for one reason or another, in Murph’s case for going to Washington and beating our brains in mostly, and then he’s good old Murph forever more. A year ago he was in our Old Timers Game. Maybe he’ll be in another one. Oh, and Daniel Murphy never won the John J. Murphy.”
“Pete Alonso.”
“One of Murph’s successors at first base. Soon enough he’ll pass Gus Bell on the all-time home run list, but since Bell hit only one of his 200+ as a Met, we probably won’t notice. Currently, Pete has 181, just eleven behind Hojo for fourth place Metwise. I see 20 on a uniform, sometimes I think of Hojo like I think of Agee. Mostly I think of Pete. I close my eyes and imagine him hitting his 253rd to pass Straw for most as a Met, then his 300th, all as a Met, maybe his 400th as a Met. Then I open my eyes, realize free agency beckons after next year and do we shop him around this winter for young pitching, considering we started David Peterson last night and are starting Tylor Megill today? Nah, ya don’t do that. Do ya?”
“Francisco Lindor.”
“Someday, we’ll look back on Francisco Lindor’s time with the Mets and say he’s the reason we won it all or he’s the reason we almost won it all, which might be interpreted as the reason we didn’t win it all. Barring injury, he’s the constant. The other night when he had to sit out, he snapped his consecutive games played streak at 223, which was a Met record. I heard that and thought, ‘I didn’t realize that was the record or that he had the record,’ and I kind of realize everything like that. Then again, as franchise records go, à la Darryl Strawberry’s 252 home runs, it’s not exactly a towering record. But Francisco’s got it.”
“Jeff McNeil.”
“I keep waiting for him to bust out. So hard not to root for. Can border on frustrating. Same person year after year, never the same player. Versatile, thank goodness. I don’t suppose Lindor ever gave him the car he promised him for the batting title. Hopefully there are no hard feelings.”
“Justin Verlander.”
“Ex-Met who was in the news the other day for apparently having criticized the Mets for not having an analytics department on the level of Houston’s, then he came out and tweeted or X’d it was constructive criticism. I’m thinking if Verlander says something, maybe listen, even if he wasn’t a Met a whole lot longer than Gus Bell. Besides, Verlander was the winning pitcher the last time I got to write up a win, and that was more than two weeks ago. I give that man the benefit of the doubt in any uniform.”
“Kodai Senga.”
“When I went to the game Sunday night — so I’ve seen a win in person more recently than I’ve written one up on the blog — the Braves scored three in the first, and a sense of doom began to set in, of course, yet I was almost relaxed. Even if doom had stayed, what’s to get nervous about these days? But I had the feeling Senga would settle down, and he did. Besides, my memory zoomed back to the Mets having fallen behind a couple of times to the Braves on Sunday nights, in 1997 at brand spanking new Turner Field and in 1999 at Shea, and rallied to win, just like they would this Sunday. Those were better years, though, even if the Braves proved the better team.”
“Atlanta Braves.”
“I’d like them to stop proving they’re the better team. At least they’re taking they’re taking their anti-New York bias out on the American League entry this week. That was men against boys for three games over the weekend, and watching it was a harsher indictment of whatever the Mets have done than anything Verlander might have said about our analytics department. That Saturday game, the 21-3 debacle, was as close to flat-out embarrassed as I’ve ever felt as a Mets fan. I didn’t realize until somebody asked me and I looked it up: it was the worst home loss by margin in Mets history. I wasn’t there, but I was watching on TV. With one eye open, as Metallica would say when Billy Wagner would enter games.”
“Brandon Nimmo.”
“Leadoff homer last night, when we could dream David Peterson getting out of the first would lead to something other than a 7-4 loss to the Pirates. Nimmo used to seem so young and innocent. Now he seems like he’s seen some shit, you know what I mean? He and Lindor are the anchors of this team. Even though they’ve both slumped, I appreciate them going out there every day, playing through whatever they’re dealing with. Yeah, I know, they’re paid plenty to do it, but I’m for any Met who stays when he could have left.”
“Daniel Vogelbach.”
“Could have he left? Damn. Listen, he sometimes does what Daniel Vogelbach was brought in to do. Then you see Holderman. Let’s not make Holderman out to be the second coming of Dave Giusti, but not a splendid trade.”
“Pittsburgh Pirates.”
“I didn’t think I’d seen a more fundamentally flawed ballclub than the Pirates who came into Citi Field last September, when Jacob deGrom toyed with them most of the day, yet here we are and they are with the same record. I know they had a couple of big streaks early this year and were ahead of us in the standings, holding the third Wild Card, right around the time it became abundantly clear we could forget about the division because we’d just been swept by the Braves. If the Pirates tell me anything, it’s that it’s a long season — and it’s not good to have the same record as them. It’s been a long time since 1973 and 1990. I miss the National League East constructed as God or Chub Feeney intended it.”
“Jacob deGrom.”
“I miss him a little less every day. Earlier this season, when he went on the IL for Texas, I thought, ‘no, that’s wrong, it should be us who’s waiting for periodic updates on his health only to be told it will be a little longer.’ I’m kind of over that now. Still, I can’t believe that when I saw him last September toying with the Pirates that that was the last time I saw him pitch for us. I wonder if he’s bumped into Scherzer when he stops by the ballpark down there to pick up his mail or anything.”
“Edwin Diaz.”
“I only miss him when I remember he’s not here. They gave away his bobblehead last night, which is not an advertisement for planning your bobblehead giveaways way in advance. Social media was full of Edwin autographing bobbleheads and greeting fans, and I was thinking I wish he were in the bullpen too busy to sign and greet. When I start to remember what it was like with him coming into the game, then I really miss him. I can’t hear ‘Narco’ without welling up a little. Of course, it’s not like I hear ‘Narco’ unless I go to YouTube and seek out Edwin Diaz coming into a game highlights. I did the same with ‘Enter Sandman’ last night, just to see if I could get nostalgic for Billy Wagner’s entrances. They weren’t filmed as well — they were all by fans with 2006-era cell phones — but, yup, I can. And between you and me, I wasn’t even that crazy about Billy Wagner.”
“All right. Very interesting. Our time is up…”
“Up: where the Mets need to go in 2024, but maybe not in 2023, what with all the draft pick implications of finishing in the bottom six. I don’t want to root for a last-place team, but we’re practically already there, and does it really matter if we lose to Pittsburgh today and dip below the likes of them and Washington and St. Louis, and there are only a few teams absolutely, prohibitively worse than us. Wouldn’t a Top Six pick, maybe No. 1 if the lottery cooperates, be the cherry on top of the Steve Cohen Supplemental Draft? Then again, whenever there’s some bulletin about how one of these prospects we got did ‘tonight in Binghamton’ or wherever, I kind of cringe, because part of me doesn’t want to hear it. It all feels so far away.”
“No. I mean our time is up for this session. You can stop now.”
“Oh, OK. Shoot, it’s almost game time anyway.”
by Jason Fry on 15 August 2023 8:10 am Imagine being Sam Coonrod.
You go to spring training with a loaded team being talked up as bound for the World Series. You’re being talked up as a prospective member of said team’s bullpen. It’s got to be exciting.
But you don’t get out of March before being felled by a strained lat. The team goes north without you. All you can do is work on your rehab, hoping to heal up. Maybe, you think, you can be ready to go by the time summer’s ending. If so, all is not lost — that’ll be just as the postseason is coming into view.
Coonrod finally arrived Monday night, but these days when people around the Mets talk about the postseason, the logical next question is to ask which year is being discussed. He found a lineup featuring Rafael Ortega and Jonathan Arauz. He came into the game following a two-inning stint by Tyson Miller, who was making his own Mets debut. He handed the ball over to Phil Bickford, who passed the baton to Trevor Gott.
Miller to Coonrod to Bickford to Gott. Ortega and Arauz. Yep, just like we planned it.
And yet here’s the Because Baseball part. Those four relievers covered five innings as a bridge between a shaky Carlos Carrasco and Adam Ottavino, walking a less than ideal four Pirates but allowing a very serviceable lone hit and an as-desired zero runs. Miller got the win in his maiden Met voyage. Arauz clubbed a homer and chipped in some flashy defense at second. Ortega, key to Sunday’s salvage win against the Braves, stole a base.
It was enough to down the Pirates and give the Mets a second straight win, one in which they scored runs in the first six innings, something they hadn’t done in a home game since 1987, when Citi Field was just the vaguest of what-ifs.
It’s a reminder that ballplayers we disdain as waiver-wire chum and Quad-A Plan Es/Fs are still world-class athletes, whose only failing is being among the 1,000 best baseball players on the planet instead of the best 800. And it’s a reminder that even baseball played in garbage time because it has to be can yield little pleasures and little victories.
I bet Sam Coonrod’s happy — as well as Miller and Arauz. Whatever the standings say, they’re allowed to be. And you know what? So are we.
by Jason Fry on 14 August 2023 8:37 am The Mets — yes, those Mets, the ones you root for even though the reason is no longer faintly discernable — won a baseball game.
A baseball game played against the Atlanta Braves, no less.
They won it slowly and then in a hurry and then slowly again: Kodai Senga fell behind 3-0 in the first when he surrendered a bases-clearing double to Marcell Ozuna, but harnessed his ghost fork after that, which gave the Mets time to ambush Yonny Chirinos in the 5th.
That inning featured what might be the least impressive batting around I can recall: a flurry of soft singles, fielders’ choices, three straight walks and a catcher’s interference call. But it was enough to change the score from 3-1 Braves to 5-3 Mets, and then a sharp single from Rafael Ortega gave the Mets a 7-3 lead. Ortega was the first man to bat in the inning and the 10th, collecting bookend singles and reminding all of us that he was pretty effective in an everyday role for the Cubs not all that long ago, and so perhaps shouldn’t be chucked on the mental pile with the rest of the misfit toys filling out the current lineup.
If you detect a certain weariness and cynicism to that perhaps, well, welcome to the 2023 Mets.
The Braves didn’t play with particular urgency once they fell behind, leaving old friend Collin McHugh out there to absorb some innings, which is the right of a first-place team more interested in testing guys and tuning up their roster with the postseason in sight. But being the Braves they still almost caught the Mets, whittling away at the lead with Sean Murphy and Matt Olson homers. 7-6 Mets looked like a recipe for disaster entering the 9th, but Adam Ottavino had one of his better outings of a confounding year, needing just eight pitches to send the Braves away empty-handed for once — and, I imagine, sending Greg and pal Kevin home happy after the baseball equivalent of a MAN BITES DOG story.
There was nothing remarkable about the Braves losing this one — they were auditioning pitchers for roles, one of them ran out of gas and the other one is still looking to fix what’s broke — beyond the fact that we didn’t think the Braves could lose, at least not to us.
But they did, so you’re allowed a little pep in your step pending the Mets reporting for duty against the Pirates. There’s a lot of season left and not a lot of hope attending it, so gather ye rosebuds while ye may and all that.
by Greg Prince on 13 August 2023 1:47 pm On Saturday afternoon, the Mets lost to the Braves by 18 runs. On Saturday night, the Mets lost to the Braves by 6 runs, looking darn near professional if not particularly effectual for most if not all of nine innings. They still lost by 6 runs, which is not the goal of a major league baseball team contesting a major league baseball game, but it does represent a net improvement of 12 runs.
Climbing the ladder from utterly shameful to merely dreadful in a matter of hours. Got your hat hung on that yet?
Me, I’ll be grabbing my hat if not my coat and heading out to Citi Field tonight for Sunday Night Baseball to a) avoid watching Sunday Night Baseball on ESPN; and b) enjoy the sublime company of my friend Kevin, who makes sure he and I see the Mets play the Braves at least once every year, even though Kevin is acutely aware of trends and standings as concerns the Mets and the Braves. Trust me, it’s fun.
Maybe that should be the advertising slogan for the rest of the season. Picture Steve Cohen or Buck Showalter or Outfielder Du Jour with “TRUST ME, IT’S FUN” in a comic balloon. They might also think about discounting the hot dogs a few bucks. They’ve already discounted the baseball several levels.
Well, not the Braves. They’re still playing splendid baseball. They score 21 runs in the afternoon, yet don’t look the least bit blasé about scoring 6 more come evening. I doubt Brave verve and panache are what Kevin and I are seeking out, but trends and standings indicate it might be the featured attraction, Kodai Senga’s ghost fork pending.
by Greg Prince on 12 August 2023 5:36 pm The Mets lost by the typographically correct if competitively averse score of 21-3 in Saturday afternoon’s makeup game versus the Braves, the day portion of a split-admission doubleheader necessitated by an April rainout and cruelty. The Mets were losing only 13-3 when they were using pitchers; utilityman Danny Mendick allowed eight runs in the ninth, indicating his utility has its limits. I couldn’t say what the score was when the Mets were using actual major league pitchers, because callup starter Denyi Reyes, 27th Man Reed Garrett and balkmeister general Josh Walker do not much answer to that description. The Braves used a starter who had little experience, but Allan Winans, a former Mets farmhand, didn’t seem to have a problem with his assignment. Winans threw seven shutout innings. Then again, he was throwing to the Mets of August of 2023.
The Met lineup, compromised by dings to Brandon Nimmo and Francisco Lindor, included Rafael Ortega, Abraham Almonte, DJ Stewart and Jonathan Araúz. I mention this because, along with the pitchers, that’s a whole lot of “I don’t remember that guy” you’re likely to respond with should their names come up in Metsian conversation a little down the road. Thus, if you’re so inclined, you can clip and save these two paragraphs to remind yourself that these were indeed the Mets of August of 2023, and therefore move the conversation along with something like “right, those guys, yikes — thank goodness that’s over with.” This is assuming that “that” is over with at some point. This is also assuming you’re still a Mets fan a little down the road. With 21-3 losses on Saturday afternoons not seeming completely shocking, I can’t blame you if you choose to pursue other interests.
Enjoy the nightcap!
by Jason Fry on 11 August 2023 10:48 pm Like everybody else, I’m mortal. I have an expiration date, a timer that will ring, a final quarter that will yield GAME OVER. One day I’ll have a final moment and once it’s past, I’ll be dead.
I have no idea when that final moment will be — it could come a few minutes from now, or lie decades ahead of me. (I sure hope it’s the latter.) I have no idea what I’ll be doing ahead of that final moment, though if I get to choose it would be sleeping and dreaming about something gentle. (I won’t get to choose.)
What I do know is that every year, every month, every day, every hour and eventually every second will be precious — sips of time that will in the end be revealed as finite and insufficient.
I also know that I just wasted a whole bunch of those moments — two hours and change, which may not seem like much when expressed as hours but is a helluva lot of precious seconds — watching a team of pretend Mets play noncompetitive baseball against the Braves.
The Mets played the role of Generic Opponent to a T. They put pressure on Charlie Morton that felt convincing in the moment but amounted to nothing, as they didn’t hit when it mattered. Tylor Megill was good early but bad late — i.e., when it mattered. The Mets’ defense was crummy when it mattered, with the normally reliable Brandon Nimmo front and center in terms of crumminess.
I say “when it mattered,” but none of it mattered. The Mets were alternately frustrating and lifeless, infuriating and boring. I wasted a night on them, bringing my last moments closer with nothing to show for them.
I’ll want those moments back on my deathbed, of course. But hell, why wait that long? I want them back now.
by Jason Fry on 9 August 2023 10:57 pm Oh, how quickly things can change.
Who’d even heard of Phil Bickford 10 days ago? And yet tonight there I was cheering energetically for Bickford to get out of a straitjacket against the Cubs and give the Mets a win — in a rubber game, no less.
I could say I was on the edge of my seat, but honestly I wasn’t — these games are too low-stakes for that level of emotional commitment. Still, I certainly wanted the Mets to win, and there was a pleasure in watching the various machinations aimed at ensuring they would.
Like Adam Ottavino getting excused on a night he clearly didn’t have it, which surprised Ottavino more than anyone else keeping track of events. Though shame on the Citi Field faithful for booing. I’ve never been against booing, but what’s the point of it now? The next game that matters will be in fucking April, so why do that? Ottavino’s struggled for some time when asked to appear in back-to-back games, and he actually wants to be part of the solution, so give the man a pass.
With Ottavino gone and Brooks Raley apparently unavailable, the game was in the hands of Bickford, a shaggy ex-Dodger about whom I confess I know very little. It was quickly apparent that Bickford didn’t have a reliable breaking pitch or the ability to work low in the strike zone, which was a bit worrisome: Changing eye levels only goes so far when you’re throwing nothing but high fastballs.
But Bickford got Christopher Morel on a pitch right in the middle of the plate, one I guarantee Morel will still be thinking about long after you’ve closed your browser window. He then went to work on Ian Happ, with a key assist from Francisco Alvarez, who kept the pitch clock from running down by throwing up his hands and racing out to the mound before time expired. That kept the count a pitcher’s 1-2 instead of a neutral 2-2.
Alvarez reminds me of Rene Rivera, which is an enormous compliment. I loved Rivera for his skill as a pitcher whisperer, coaxing and sometimes bullying balky hurlers across the finish line. Alvarez has a lot of that in him, except Rivera was a veteran nearing his mid-30s, and Alvarez is barely old enough for a legal drink. I’ll be happy when this season has ended, but in the meantime getting to watch Alvarez continue to grow will be a nice fringe benefit.
David Peterson, Abraham Almonte, Grant Hartwig, Josh Walker, Phil Bickford. Maybe it’s not the cast we imagined cheering for when Justin Verlander and Max Scherzer stood atop the rotation, but it’s the cast we have. And for one night, the outcome was worthy of applause.
by Greg Prince on 9 August 2023 2:33 am Some are like summer
Coming back every year
Got your baby
Got your blanket
Got your bucket of beer
I break into a grin
From ear to ear
And suddenly
It’s perfectly clear
That’s why I’m here
—James Taylor
The 2023 Mets have assured themselves they will not be the statistical equal of the 2022 Mets, having notched their 62nd loss Tuesday night the season after they didn’t lose more than 61.
Oh well. I think we knew that was a given.
The 2023 Mets are chasing history, albeit in the wrong direction. By notching their 62nd loss of the season, they have fallen never mind however many games behind whoever holds the final Wild Card slot at the moment. They lag 22 games behind the pace of the 2022 Mets at the 2022 Mets’ very same juncture. After 113 games a year ago, the Mets’ record was 73-40. Currently, it is 51-62. The worst dropoff the Mets have ever experienced year-versus-year for an entire season was 22 games, from 1976’s deceptively encouraging 86-76 to 1977’s Seaver-stripped 64-98. If These Mets don’t win 79 of their scheduled 162 games — and it seems quite likely These Mets will not — that means they will have tumbled at least 23 games in one year, a new franchise mark for a fall from grace.
Oh well. I think we know that is a given.
Any more good news from the Department of Sunshine & Lollipops? Hell yes. I went to the game Tuesday night and didn’t much stress the outcome. Early on, I thought it would follow the pattern set the night before, when the Mets blasted the Cubs, 11-2. My evidence was an RBI double Pete Alonso walloped to deepest center field that first scored Jeff McNeil and then scored Pete Alonso because, lo and behold, that wasn’t deepest center field — that was the black backdrop just above and beyond deepest center field. The EnormoVision replay beaming in concert with the crew chief review made it so clear that the double wasn’t the correct call that Pete was circling third base before an umpire circled a finger to signal home run. I was almost disappointed Pete whacked No. 34. It was kind of pleasant to see him drive home a run with something other than a dinger.
Uptown problems, am I right? We were off to a 2-0 lead in the bottom of the first, and there was no telling how much more we’d strafe Chicago starter Jameson Taillon. I remembered Taillon’s first start in the majors. It came for the Pirates against us in 2016. Like Pete Alonso, Ty Kelly homered off him. It sticks with me because I wrote a theater review of the evening, treating the Mets at PNC Park as if it were an out-of-town opening. You watch a lot of Mets and you write a lot of Mets, you always look for a new Mets angle.
For Tuesday night, I resort to a hardy perennial: The Ryder and Rob Chasin Game, a.k.a. the Bar Mitzvah Game, also a.k.a. the Bar Mitzvah of the Bar Mitzvah Game. Faith and Fear completists will perhaps recall that in 2009 my wife and I were invited to a Bar Mitzvah of a Mets fan who had just read my book about being a Mets fan. We all study for the haftorah in our own way. The Bar Mitzvah celebration would take place at still new Citi Field in the offseason. How could Stephanie and I say no?
One summer later, the celebration continued. Ryder, 13, and dad Rob asked us to join them at Citi Field for the reason the joint was constructed, an actual ballgame. How could Stephanie and I say no? That was a Tuesday night in August of 2010. Every August that Citi Field has been open to spectators since then, always on a Tuesday night (“my favorite Tuesday of the year,” Rob ranks it), we keep the celebration going. It’s 13 years since August of 2010. As Ryder pointed out to me, the Bar Mitzvah Game is itself eligible to read from the haftorah.
The Bar Mitzvah Game’s attendees aren’t necessarily very good at reading the Mets. That 2-0 lead, defended ably by Carlos Carrasco, did not mature the way Ryder did. Ryder was a kid in middle school when I met him. He’s an accomplished content creator now, held back temporarily only by a Writers Guild of America strike he’s dutybound to honor. He’s still a Mets fan. Nothing holds that back, though he admitted he skipped last week’s 0-6 road trip that wound through Kansas City, Baltimore and Purgatory. “I envy you,” I told him. We spent nine innings immersed in Met talk, occasionally pausing to check in on the Mets building upon their first two runs (which they didn’t) and Carrasco doing his best over five innings to make it stand up (which he did but couldn’t). The Cubs eventually tied the score versus Cookie and went ahead off Drew Smith. Taillon seemed to pitch forever. It was only seven innings. Seemed longer.
The Mets did a little threatening in the eighth — two on — and the ninth — Lindor leading off with a single. The threats proved idle. Alonso lined to deep right for the first out of the ninth, leaving Lindor on first and bringing up Daniel Vogelbach. Ryder and I had been moments earlier bemoaning the stubborn presence of Vogelbach on the 2023 Mets’ roster. In August of 2022, Vogey was the right hitter at the right time for a contender, even if he usually required a pinch-runner to complete his rounds. In August of 2023, we don’t celebrate his designated bat any longer. There’s no Terrance Gore, no Tim Locastro to steer his additional 270 feet from first to home should Vogelbach somehow accomplish the first 90 feet. There is Abraham Almonte, the 34-year-old callup we saw make his Met debut, but Almonte is no pinch-runner. For These Mets, Almonte was Tuesday’s starting right fielder.
Buck Showalter, having made all the moves a four-man bench will allow, left us wondering who would pinch-run for Vogelbach in a best-case scenario. Our best-case scenario was Vogelbach walking. Daniel saved us and Buck the trouble of remembering if anybody was left to take his place on the basepaths by grounding to Cub closer Adbert Alzolay. Alzolay turned and fired to Dansby Swanson to force Lindor at second. Swanson relayed to Jeimer Candelario at first. He could have sent the ball via Parcel Post. Vogelbach jogged with the resignation of a weary commuter who knew he wasn’t gonna make that train pulling out of the station regardless of how hard he ran after it, so why even bother?
With the third out and the Cubs’ 3-2 win complete, a young man in a PIAZZA 31 jersey two rows below us took his Mets cap and flung it to the ground in absolute disgust. The fact that he was wearing what I would guess was an authentic vintage garment handed down to him made it all the more poignant, because that fellow in 2023 might as well have been me in 1998. In my case, I threw a half-filled soft drink bottle at a wall in the Loge concourse at Shea. Despite having the actual PIAZZA 31 in their lineup, the Mets had just lost an agonizingly frustrating affair to the Expos, the sort of game the 1998 Mets specialized in losing en route to barely missing out on the playoffs. Merengue Night was overtaking the ballpark where my hopes and dreams had been dented yet again. Of course I had to throw something. Of course I couldn’t take it anymore. Of course I took it some more. I’m still taking it. But at this stage of 2023, I’m beyond throwing things, except a few well-observed barbs in print toward Daniel Vogelbach.
And with that, the Bar Mitzvah Game’s Bar Mitzvah had drawn to a close. Rob and Ryder and Stephanie and I had all agreed it was a shame the Mets couldn’t win one for us, but we also agreed it didn’t much matter this year or, really, any years among the thirteen we’ve been doing this. “If we came here to see the Mets win,” I said before we adjourned our minyan until next August, “we would have stopped coming a long time ago.”
by Jason Fry on 8 August 2023 8:55 am Baseball is a sport of long-term truths that fight their way out of short-term noise, so the Mets winning a rain-interrupted laugher over the Cubs was only a surprise from an emotional standpoint: It had been pretty obvious to us loyal diehards doughty faithful pathetic masochists that they would never win another game in 2023, and were only an even bet to score any additional runs.
But somehow they did, thanks to a monster night from Pete Alonso, who clubbed a pair of homers and drove in six, and a pretty good one from Kodai Senga, whose ghost fork entrapped its fair share of Cubs.
Absent from the proceedings was Starling Marte, felled by the groin we were all told had been surgically repaired, and Brett Baty, who’s a more interesting case. Baty was sent down in a bid to arrest the deterioration that’s been evident in both his offense and his defense, and admitted in his exit interview that the game had become a little fast for him.
Having watched Baty’s season curdle firsthand, it was hard to disagree with excusing him for a bit, despite the Mets’ fortunes having evaporated. It’s true that the rest of the season’s to-do list is topped by “valuable experience for young players” and it’s also true that what Baty has to learn is best taught at the big-league level. But one size doesn’t fit all, and the only things Baty has learned over the last month is that progress can be interrupted by frustrating reversals and failing in public is miserable. Neither strikes me as lessons one needs to have hammered into one’s skull over and over again. Baty will be back, hopefully having caught his breath and refilled his reservoirs of confidence a bit, and then we’ll see.
The Mets won, which was of course something to take pleasure in; we also got the little moments that make baseball strange and beautiful and occasionally funny, the ones that are there to value even in the lousiest games of a humdrum season.
Take the way the top of the fifth ended: With two out Nico Hoerner and Ian Happ singled. Clay Bellinger then dropped a little dunker down the left field line, which fell in and brought Hoerner home. Happ came into third standing, stumbled past the base and fell down, and was tagged out by Danny Mendick. (Who’d later hit a three-run homer — hey, he’d want it in to be included in the recap.)
Anyway, that last out is kind of hilarious on replay: Happ, finding himself on the wrong side of third base, twists his body back toward it, fingers stretching for the corner of the bag. But there’s Mendick, and between Happ’s fingertips and the base is another fingertip’s worth of space, one that can’t be filled. Happ realizes the gap is there and going to remain there and slumps onto his back, hands to his head, staring up into the darkness above Citi Field and thinking about what he’s done — and, perhaps, wondering if it would be possible for him to just remain there undisturbed for a while. Or at least for someone else to bring out his glove, so he doesn’t have to go back in the dugout and accept pitying back slaps or polite silence.
A small moment in an inconsequential game, but it made me smile. Baseball can do that for you, even when so much has gone awry.
by Greg Prince on 6 August 2023 8:29 pm Jose Quintana came highly recommended on Angi when you were looking for a gardener. He wasn’t necessarily the best, but he was very good. So you contacted him. Jose informed you he’d be very happy to help you with all your gardening needs, except he had to tend to a medical situation before he could tend to your lawn, but if you could wait a few months, he’d be sure to come by. Yes, you said, and you wrote down the appointment, and Jose wrote down the appointment.
Except you forgot all about Jose and, when the spring and the first part of summer weren’t what you were expecting, and your lawn looked beyond repair, and you had all your grass pulled in favor of a makeshift rock garden while he was recuperating from whatever ailed him. Thus, when Jose, who it turned out was very diligent, kept his word and rang your bell, you didn’t really have the job for him that you agreed on.
“Um,” you were forced to improvise, “how are you in terms of working with a bunch of rocks?”
Jose’s a total pro. Sure, you don’t have the fancy lawn you had when you hired him, but a deal’s a deal. Jose now looks after your rocks approximately every five days and does a damn fine job of it.
They’re still rocks, of course.
In the world we know, Mr. Quintana was supposed to be a solid No. 3 starter for a pennant contender that no longer exists. It barely existed once he showed up for work shortly after the All-Star break. It’s nothing but dust now. Yet Jose is pretty much the pitcher the Mets signed last December. He’ll give your team every chance to win. If your team is These Mets, every chance will not be put to any use.
In Baltimore on Sunday, Quintana gave the Mets six terrific innings, leaving with two runners on in the seventh and trailing, 1-0. Had Rafael Ortega timed a dive better in center, Jose would not have allowed a triple that set up the lone run, which scored when Mark Vientos didn’t execute better on a grounder to third. Journeyman Ortega’s not supposed to be here at all and young Vientos is gaining some of that valuable experience for which early-arriving ass ends of seasons are made. One run in six innings. Who could ask for anything more?
The bottom of the seventh began when Old Friend™ James McCann decided nobody wearing a Mets uniform should be safe from his scorn. McCann doubled off Quintana. Ryan McKenna — one of approximately 18 Orioles named Ryan — singled McCann to third. Quintana left the mound after 92 pitches, climbed into his truck and waved goodbye, planning to see the Mets and their rocks in five or six days. Trevor Gott entered the scene and made only the mistake of allowing an Oriole to make contact. Ryan O’Hearn (see?) grounded to Danny Mendick at second. Mendick could have thrown home. McCann all but dared him to throw home, decelerating for a rundown that never developed, because Mendick passed on the potential out at home to get the all-important out at second.
That was the second Baltimore run and the ballgame. Actually, the first Baltimore run was the ballgame, because the Mets basically asked Quintana to carry the load of rocks himself. They didn’t hit for him. They didn’t field for him or his successor, thus a second earned run landed on Jose’s ledger. And the rest of the day wasn’t tangibly different. Orioles win, 2-0. Orioles sweep the Mets. Mets lose their sixth in a row.
In a parallel universe, in which…
• Steve Cohen entered the clubhouse in a slightly soggy half-zip two Thursday nights ago during the rain delay, expressed to the assembled damp players that he and wife Alex still maintain all the confidence in the world in you boys, now go get ’em when they take that tarp off;
• David Robertson warmed anew (up-downs be damned) and retired the Nationals in advance of several save opportunities to come;
• Tommy Pham and Mark Canha filled in capably for Brandon Nimmo and Starling Marte on the road trip ahead;
• Max Scherzer and Justin Verlander took their scheduled turns against Interleague competition, leaving David Peterson in the bullpen and Tylor Megill at Syracuse;
• and instead of going 0-6 in Kansas City and Baltimore, the 2023 Mets went maybe 3-3, probably 2-4, probably not whatever it would have taken to make us convince one another We Gotta Believe.
Though there’s no telling. The once dead Cubs have moved into a playoff position. The terminally underachieving Padres have charged toward if not completely into the fray. The Mets couldn’t have been the next also-ran to suddenly start achieving and let us dream a little dream of October and give us something to build off from there?
They couldn’t have been as bad as they’ve been since Robertson was traded and everybody who remained once the others were traded took that transaction as the whitest of flags, but, to be fair, they weren’t supposed to be as bad as they had been before management gave up on the season. The players who were left and the players who took the place the of the players who departed may simply be following suit. If they haven’t intentionally surrendered, they have failed to bring the verve or the nerve or whatever the hell it is major leaguers are supposed to have that allows them to compete at the highest level, whether it’s against a last-place outfit like KC or a high-flying unit like those O’s. Maybe everybody’s truly trying their best. Maybe nobody’s truly capable of succeeding. That’s the universe we inhabit, even if it’s the one we’ve been instructed to look past. Look instead at that lush-lawned universe slated to emerge in two or three years. Be sure to stay alive and well until 2025, 2026 at the latest. Just we wait.
There’s a new world comin’
And it’s just around the bend
It worked before. Maybe it’ll work again.
In our current space-time continuum, Jose Quintana, hopefully enjoying a hard-earned cold one, puts his feet up and wonders why those people asked him to do this job. He really thought he’d be working a lush lawn and maybe learn something from a couple of legendary gardeners with whom he’d barely shaken hands before they took off in their own much fancier trucks. “Ah, whatever,” he concludes. “Summer will be over before we know it.”
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