Not much.
The Mets meandered their way to the West Coast, as I had, playing below me (in San Diego) and above me (in Seattle) while I attended to business in San Francisco. I caught up with them when I could, but it was an inning here and an inning there. I couldn’t attend to their doings properly until I got home Saturday night, and then I wished I hadn’t — they played the kind of dull, listless baseball one would expect from a mediocre team spinning its wheels.
On Sunday Seth Lugo was bad, Neil Walker couldn’t field, nobody could hit, and newcomer A.J. Ramos had a crummy debut. If you want more go here [1], but why would you want more? It doesn’t matter. No scores matter until some undetermined date in the future. You’ll know when we’ve reached that date, trust us.
Ramos’s arrival, lackluster though it was, at least represented progress — he’s an actual part of an actual plan for next year. Same with the departure of Lucas Duda, whom I was glad to see go because he was out of tomorrows here, but sad to see go because I enjoyed many of his yesterdays. Simultaneously good-humored and laconic, Duda offered no complaints about being yo-yo’ed between corner outfield spots, worked hard to become a pretty serviceable first baseman, and it was a lot of fun when he connected.
And another shoe should drop soon: Addison Reed has most likely thrown his last inning as a Met, headed elsewhere before the Mets resume business in Colorado on Tuesday. Hopefully the price for his services will be something of future consequence.
If that’s it, the Mets will still have too much deadwood — trade talk is cool around Walker, Jay Bruce, Curtis Granderson, Jose Reyes and Asdrubal Cabrera. And that’s where I get annoyed. If those guys are still here in August I’ll root for them because they’re Mets and I want the Mets to win, but that’s about all the engagement I’ll be able to muster. When the score of a Mets game matters again, those players (with Bruce a possible exception) will probably be wearing other uniforms — or on the golf course.
Want me to care about what’s left of the 2017 Mets? Then show me Amed Rosario and Dom Smith already. Give me a glimpse of the future I need to know is out there — even if that comes with a bumpy present.
That sneak preview should have come in June, when it was apparent to even the most besotted orange-and-blue observer that the 2017 campaign was lost. I’m tired of vague reasons it’s been delayed — just as I’m tired of watching lame-duck Mets trudge through interchangeable, meaningless games. Or not watching them do that, as was the case for most of the last week.
Give me a reason to care — and to hope, and to dream a little. Is that too much to ask?