Had Steven Matz [1] carried his Sunday no-hitter attempt at Citi Field two outs further and into the ninth inning, it would have been fascinating to have seen how Terry Collins would have balanced the not necessarily meshing interests of history (or HI32ORY) and preservation…preservation of Matz’s bone-spurred left elbow. But since Matz gave up his first hit, a single down the first base line to Alexei Ramirez [2], with one out in the eighth, there was no issue to bandy about with Collins regarding his handling of his lefty.
Bandying commenced in the postgame press briefing nonetheless. The postgame story wasn’t, wow, Matz pitched a wonderful game against the Padres (7.1 IP, 1 H, 0 R, 2 BB, 8 SO), but what would have Terry done had Terry had to make a call on a youngster who had thrown well over 100 pitches on a hot day five days after throwing 120.
Here’s my question: why? Other than, yeah, Johan Santana [3] and 134 pitches and Terry periodically beating himself up [4] over Santana’s curtailed career following the First No-Hitter in New York Mets History, why harp on the manager’s hypothetical decision when there was just a splendid pitching performance and, not incidentally, a second consecutive Mets win [5] when such a creature was considered on the verge of extinction?
I guess good news isn’t good enough anymore. Terry, nothing went wrong today — can you get into what could have gone wrong? And is knowing that something could have gone wrong eating away at your insides? Can you contort your face to show what it would have looked like in the ninth inning had Steven gone to a full count on the leadoff batter?
It struck a discordant note to a symphony of a Sunday when Matz was brilliant, Wilmer Flores [6] and Neil Walker [7] were powerful, Jose Reyes [8] was rascally and victory was achieved with a relative lack of the usual angst. Matz went only as far as he did because once Ramirez’s hit was delivered, he had done all he was going to be reasonably asked to do. Complete-game one-hitters when 105 pitches are already in the books with five outs to go are no longer a thing as they might have been in the days when nobody knew how many pitches a pitcher pitched. Terry pulled the kid with a two-run lead, placed the ball and his confidence in Addison Reed [9]’s right hand and that was that.
But Terry, if Matz had gotten Ramirez and the next batter, what then? How much Maalox do you keep in your desk drawer? Can you hang your head to replicate how much the decision would have weighed on you?
The manager, after baring his soul upon request, gave what I considered to be the sound response when he got around to it: he would have let Matz start the ninth and kept an eye on him. Fine. First, though, the angle had to be about how hard all of this was on the skipper, not how tough the pitcher was on the Padres, as if the media (a monolithic description, but it seemed to fit on this day) couldn’t handle exquisite pitching for exquisite pitching’s sake.
I guess my next question is, why do we worry so much about what people think versus what people do? Even here, as I rail at the line of inquiry, I’m indulging that unfortunate instinct. I’m down on the reporters I followed on Twitter [10] and listened to in the briefing for obsessing on Collins’s theoretical reaction to something that didn’t happen. Instead, if I live by my own code, I should still be reveling in how good Matz is looking lately in actuality. What do I care what these people think? We’re long past the age of the filter and gatekeeper. I don’t need headlines to explain yesterday’s game to me, yet the headlines, including…
“Steven Matz’s No-Hit Bid Is Broken Up, to Terry Collins’s Relief [11]”
“Steven Matz’s pitch count a worry as Mets’ starter flirted with no-hitter [12]”
“Matz’s no-hit bid nearly gives Collins another Santana scenario [13]”
…strike me as, at best, ancillary to the point. The point is Matz kept San Diego hitters off balance, the Mets rose above .500 and the flickering light of the Wild Card chase grew a teensy bit brighter. Why not ask Terry what he would have thought had Flores tripped over third base on his home run trot? Would you still encourage your players to hit the ball far, or are they better off drawing walks? Would you prefer stress-free losses to wins that encompass moves whose character you might someday be asked to express public regret about?
There must be something addicting about Collins to those who cover the team. He’s been there practically forever, his heart is visible on his sleeve and he answers questions without euphemisms. Even in a sport where the manager provides a twice-daily point of access, however, it seems Terry is approached as sun, moon and stars combined. I can appreciate his importance to the overall picture. Sunday I didn’t appreciate that a choice he didn’t have to make was treated as the overall picture.
Matz probably deserved that framing.