On this date in 1982, there was approximately zero-percent chance that the Mets would soon call Keith Hernandez their first baseman. On this same date in 1997, it was maybe less likely (if that’s statistically possible) that Mike Piazza was five months and change from becoming the Mets’ catcher.
But both deals happened and twice this franchise of ours was transformed.
As currently floated by an in-the-know baseball writer [1] or two, the chances of the Mets acquiring Troy Tulowitzki lies somewhere between five and ten percent. So if you believe the laying of odds based on what somebody’s source says to some reporter who may or may not know something’s up, well, meet me at the top of the National League East standings sometime this summer.
It’s probably saner to stay situated in the “nobody knows anything” camp, but what fun is that? At the very least, it’s plausible that the Mets and Rockies have discussed a deal that would bring Tulo, the best all-around shortstop in baseball when healthy, to Citi Field in the right kind of uniform. The Rockies have a contract they’d like to move and the Mets have a hole they’d like to fill. If they’re not talking to one another, there’s massive negligence going on in two time zones.
Is any of this serious? Even if you generously interpret every report you’ve lapped up this morning, you can find, at most, a glint of light that indicates that maybe, if everything and more happens, this has a shadow of a shot in hell of transpiring.
Sounds good to me. If it does happen, then hallelujah, we have — best-case scenario — an amazing upgrade at short, a lineup that can produce steady streams of runs and enough pitching no matter what needs to be sent to Colorado in exchange. If it doesn’t, then except for a few dashed hot stove hopes, we’re back where we started, with Wilmer Flores, who has yet to prove he’s a terrible alternative. Also we keep however many promising young arms we didn’t hypothetically trade, we don’t take on the dollar commitment that might not be onerous to another team’s payroll but apparently is to our team’s, and we don’t have to worry about Tulowitzki staking out a cozy spot on the several-year disabled list.
All this chatter is win-win in a December when the most scintillating development in Metsopotamia to date has been Jeurys Familia donning an elf costume [2] (and that includes the acquisition of John Mayberry). It’s a classic baseball dilemma in theory: Great player joins team that seems ready to rise versus injury risk, financial commitment and unproven talent that may haunt you later. Thing is it’s only theory. It’s five percent, maybe ten, maybe nothing at all.
Would I do it? Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t get to do it, so what’s the difference?
But I sure was happy when we got Hernandez and Piazza within six months of never imagining we might.