FanPost

I Hate to Love the Mets

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Every day, the Mets find new ways to break my heart. On the surface, there's an easy fix; I can just stop caring. There's no need to get emotionally invested in a bastardized baseball season that probably won't even complete its already abbreviated schedule in the midst of a global pandemic and national unrest. But that's not how the Mets like to treat their fans. Since I started watching during the 2000 season that culminated in a World Series loss to the evil empire, the team has been inventing new forms of punishment for those stupid or unfortunate enough to be devoted- but they always provide just enough of a glimmer of hope to keep you attached. I let myself get excited every spring (or in this case, July). Things might be different this year. I should know better by now, but it doesn't stop me from falling trap every time.

The start to this season has been a microcosm of my entire existence as a Mets fan. Day one hosting the Braves, the Mets squeaked out a win behind a gem from the reigning back-to-back Cy Young Jake DeGrom. The lone offense came from Yoenis Cespedes, who for a moment fooled me into thinking he could return to the player that helped lead us to the playoffs in 2015. Even better was the next day when Steven Matz, slated to be our number four pitcher before injuries decimated the rotation, had an outing worthy of the second starter on any team. This proved to be the high point of the season. Edwin Diaz came in to "close", and with the Mets within one pitch of winning, he gave up a home run and the team lost in extras. The next day, they got thrashed 14-1 on national TV.

I was ready to call it a season. Focus my time and energy in different, more productive ways for the next couple of months. But two solid wins against the Red Sox hooked me right back in. Maybe the offense and bullpen can figure it out, I lied to myself. By now, we all know where this is headed. The Mets left what feels like 40 runners on base over the next two games, losing both. Moments I should be excited for- down a run, eight inning, bases loaded- I can't help feel anything but anxiety. This team can't seem to lose a normal game. There has to be some agonizing amount of opportunities blown. But, the bats finally came alive the next series against the Braves. They broke the first game open in the 5th inning, jumping out to a 8-2 lead. I told myself that this was the offensive performance we were waiting for. Fast forward a couple of innings, and the Mets bullpen has allowed the Braves back in the game. A five-run 8th inning turns "back in the game" into winning. Mets lose, 11-10. In true knife-twisting fashion, the former Met Travis D'Arnaud had 5 RBIs including the go-ahead bases clearing double in the 8th. To nobody's surprise, they lost the next day without so much as a whimper.


The team finds themselves yet again doing what they do best: Prying defeat from the jaws of victory. The implosion Friday night gave me flashbacks to last season. The Mets spent the first half of 2019 middling around the lower half of the standings, before a string of wins gave them enough of a push to come within 2 games of the final Wild Card spot. Playing the Nationals in early September, they had let me build up that same dangerous hope that I felt just a couple of days ago. Offense and starting pitching looked good, they were just a few outs away from climbing up another spot in the standings, and my focus had already shifted to the next game. The bullpen's focus must have been elsewhere too, because a seven-run bottom of the 9th brought all that optimism crashing down. Mets lose, 11-10. It's the same story, just tweak the details a bit and pitch it as something fresh for next season. In the words of Taylor Swift, I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending.

I had been begging for baseball to come back. Like a bad relationship, I had convinced myself that only the good parts would be there this time. My natural defenses blocked the history of misery that the Mets have afforded me. A week into the season, and I'm pulling up Beltran's final at-bat in the 2006 NLCS to help me wallow. We're at the point where I'm hoping Kelenic turns into a star, just so every leg of that trade provides maximum pain. The sweet mercy to this season is that it will only offer 51 more opportunities (if that) for soul crushing defeats. Of course, the expanded playoffs mean that the listless remains of the Mets will be kept alive mathematically for far longer than they should. It's only a matter of time before a couple of good outings convince me that the team can get back on track. Maybe Stroman's return will come sooner than expected. Maybe the Steve Cohen sale will actually go through this time. Maybe things will be different.

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