Subscribe on Apple Podcasts | Subscribe on Spotify
Get 15% off in our shop with the code PODCAST
The Mets are good. I’ve always said this. As of this writing, the Mets are 9-8, having climbed out of an 0-5 start to get above .500, winning three series in a row along the way. Among them was a vital series win over Atlanta, where the Mets took two out of three from the Braves, including a miraculous 8-7 victory that felt like it was always on the verge of falling apart and then, two days later, an absolute barn burner of a 16-4 victory.
If you’re reading this you probably know that a mere two weeks ago I was writing in this very newsletter about how the Mets sucked, and how I was completely at peace with it. I was on my high horse, preaching that we all knew the Mets were going to be bad, and you were all silly to get yourselves frothed up about it. While I watched Mets Twitter lose their minds, I calmly quoted Bull Durham: “It’s a long season and you gotta trust it.” I was ready to calmly watch the Mets go 0-162. And then the Mets started winning.
On our Casual Diehard show two weeks ago, I was up on my soapbox about embracing the 2024 Mets for what they are — bad — and Jesse politely reminded me that the Mets hadn’t yet given me a win, so I might have forgotten what it feels like, and how it might change everything. He was right. Winning is an immediate intoxicant.
The shift started little by little against the Reds, and then, it seemed, all at once in Atlanta of all places. But the moment I knew we were in a whole new world came Monday night, when Jeff McNeil and DJ Stewart (yes, Jeff McNeil and DJ Stewart) pulled off a double steal (yes, a double steal) against Aroldis Chapman (yes, fuck that guy). The game was tied 3-3, and the steal clearly rattled Chapman, who immediately gave up a go-ahead hit to Harrison Bader (clutch king), and then got himself ejected for arguing balls and strikes. Soon after, with the Mets up 5-3, it was time to sound the trumpets: Edwin Díaz locked down the ninth inning and it was time to put it in the fucking books, baby.
The lineup seems to have broken out of its collective early season slump, the pitching is starting to look like something manageable — the bullpen good, even — but most vitally, it seems like the Mets have fixed the vibe. Suddenly, these Mets seem fun as hell. They needed a few days at the start of the season to shake off the dust and get their heads on straight, and I can’t blame them. It feels like over the last two weeks, all of us started to remember how fun it is to win — how thrilling it is to break a tie (Tuesday, this happened on a balk!), to pull off a walkoff, to celebrate with your boys. Maybe we all just needed a taste.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself. “It’s a long season and you gotta trust it” is a warning not to overreact too much – to either the highs or the lows. But my resolution to make peace with the Mets means enjoying this moment without obsessing over what came before or what will come after. And right now, Brett Baty, elite defensive third baseman, is the moment. Francisco Álvarez gently stroking DJ Stewart’s chin is the moment. The double steal is the moment. Díaz being back and as good as ever and having games to save is the moment.
So I don’t quite know what to do with this team except to enjoy it. I wrote two weeks ago, “If they happen to win, I’ll be thrilled. If they manage to get my hopes up only to crush them in the most miserable way possible, I’ll know that this is what I signed up for. That it was more than I ever expected. It is, of course, a game designed to break your heart.” What a treat for it to be mid-April and to already feel we’ve gotten more than we ever expected.
This is what baseball is. It’s quiet and boring and nothing until, in the blink of an eye, it’s everything. I’m so glad to be along for the ride. LFGM.