The 2016 baseball season began approximately ten minutes ago and is now more than half over. It has tied the major league record for how quickly time flies, set in every other baseball season. Even the ones that drag zip by before you know it.
Embroidered in the fabric of the baseball season to remind us how much we value every second of it and how we can’t have a second more of it than it is willing to give us is the All-Star break. It is here and we can’t do anything about it.
The All-Star break is cruel. Four days, no Mets games. Boo.
The All-Star break is kind. Four days, no Mets games. Still boo, but maybe just a little all right, let’s regroup.
The team we watched Sunday [1] needs a break. It scored two runs on solo home runs (both off the bat of the guy it’s still weird to see here [2]) and nothing else. The team it faced won primarily because it has the guy it’s still weird to see there [3] — plus they were facing a Mets team in need of a spa visit if not a full-blown vacation.
Three consecutive losses to the Nationals closed out the first “half,” or 53.7%, of 2016, diminishing the shine from the seven wins in eight games that preceded the present mercifully interrupted comedown. 2016 has been a lot like that. There’ve been some wonderful stretches encompassing games that prove how great these Mets can be. Then they end and are replaced by spans in which you can’t imagine the Mets getting from home to first without a medevac copter, except one isn’t available because it’s being used to transport somebody’s bone spur to the nearest MRI machine. When they’re playing like that, even the wins — layered with runners abandoned on base and the .158 batters who left them to wither — seem somehow at odds with the concept of winning.
When the Mets look good, we are reminded why the overriding question entering 2016 was “World Series or bust?” Ah, April hubris. There is so much space in between World Series and bust. The Mets are occupying the upper echelon of the squishy middle. They’d be in some sort of playoff if the season ended today (it doesn’t; it only feels like it has). They wouldn’t automatically be in the playoff we’d want, the one where they naturally go on to capture the little bit of reward they missed out on in 2015. Reward doesn’t come so easily for our Mets, though to be fair, twenty-nine other teams’ fans would swear the same circumstance befalls the objects of their affection.
Perhaps the Mets’ dead-arm/strained-quad period will cease when play resumes Friday night, setting up the second “half,” or 46.7%, as an invigorating sprint to the finish. Or perhaps things will lurch forward with bursts of joy punctuated by potholes of angst and it won’t seem long at all before I’m writing pieces in, say, 2022 swearing that 2016 wasn’t all bad — seriously, Cespedes had a monster first half and Colon homered and Familia had that streak and Thor was amazing, and that was just before the All-Star break.
I’m lousy at pretending to know what comes next, let alone knowing what comes next or insisting what should come next (agendas make me allergic). Steve Winwood would categorize me as a roll-with-it [4] type of fan. When the Mets win, I’m going to express excitement. When the Mets lose, my irkedness won’t be particularly well-concealed. Perspective I can always sprinkle in on the other side of the semi-colons. I suppose I could use a break, too, but what I’ll want by 7:10 tonight is another Mets game I can react to accordingly. Like you, gentle reader, I shall just have to wait a few days.
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• I was a guest on WFAN’s Talking Baseball With Ed Randall [5] Sunday morning. The hook was my book, Amazin’ Again [6]. We spoke primarily about the 2015 Mets, with jaunts into the present club’s situation. I even took listener calls, including one from a bright fellow referring to himself as “Jeff from Maryland”. The spot developed quickly, so I didn’t have a chance to let you know about it in advance, and unfortunately the station didn’t post audio from the program on its site. But, quite frankly, there’s no chance that, as a no-time caller/long-time listener, I’m going to let the opportunity to say “I was a guest on WFAN” slip by without making note of it here. My thanks to Ed for having me on and my thanks to those who did hear it for telling me they liked it.
• We’re a week past the annual commemoration of the July 4-5, 1985, game in Atlanta, but after 31 years, what’s a week? I recall a couple of moments from the marathon that ended at 3:55 in the morning for Vice Sports here [7].
• If it’s All-Star break time, it’s midseason roundup time for the guys at On The Sportslines. I join them at the 6:00 mark here [8] and sound relatively optimistic about our Mets, so you know this program was taped before the Nationals series really kicked in and kicked us.
• New Jerseyans! Mark Monday night, August 8, 7 PM, on your calendar for my rescheduled first appearance in the Garden State. I’m coming to Little City Books in Hoboken [9] to discuss Amazin’ Again and related Met matters. The original date had to be postponed because — no kidding — an adjacent establishment plans to challenge the record for most guitars played at once. It’s hard enough for one voice to be heard above the din most nights as is. Anyway, if you’re in the neighborhood (or care to be), I hope to see you there. And, yes, it is an off night on the schedule.
• As long as I’ve brought it up, thank you to everybody who has bought and/or read my book on how the 2015 New York Mets brought the magic back to Queens. If you haven’t, well, of course I urge you to buy/read it, but I wanted to get in a plug for those who have already done the Wright thing. Your actions are most appreciated.
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Whether you’re seeking a copy of Amazin’ Again or, if you’ve got that one covered, you’re looking for something else to enhance your life, I’d recommend supporting the folks that have supported my efforts. If it’s convenient for you, please consider directing your business toward one of the following fine establishments:
• Bergino Baseball Clubhouse [10] in Manhattan. (An entire National Pastime experience.)
• Foley’s [11] in Manhattan. (For your baseball-immersed drinking and dining pleasure.)
• Turn of the Corkscrew [12] in Rockville Centre. (Books and wine.)
• WORD [13] in Greenpoint.
• Little City [14] in Hoboken.
• My sister’s and brother-in-law’s eBay shop (specializing in signed copies of my book [15]).