The Mets have been turned down by the National League Cy Young Award winner. To invert the 5th Dimension [1], I should be unhappy, but all I do is shrug.
True, I was as much on tenterhooks over the marquee free agent pitching decision of the offseason as any Mets fan, even once I realized I didn’t actually know what a tenterhook [2] was. Nevertheless, I didn’t particularly want the weirdness of Trevor Bauer [3] on my team. Weirdness can be wonderful [4]. His is offputting [5]. Plus the track record seems slight compared to the heft of the contract he was demanding. The Mets nonetheless threw a weighty offer at him. He chose the Dodgers’ version [6]. Good for him. Very good for him.
I’ve decided not to count Steve Cohen’s money or care about competitive balance penalties. Yet paying one dude who isn’t the undisputed best at his position in baseball — not the best available, but the actual no-doubt best — an unimaginable amount to maybe stretch out what he did over fewer than a dozen starts to close to three times that…in New York…while parading around his own brand of weirdness…while consciously or otherwise trying to live up to the unimaginable amount…and then, if he really succeeded, potentially walking out ASAP because a clause said he could…
It didn’t sit right. Granted, budding codgers like me use phrases like “it didn’t sit right” while grumbling they don’t print pocket schedules in copious quantities anymore, but it didn’t. Never had a great feeling about Trevor Bauer joining the Mets. Now I’m eligible for having pangs of regret should he somehow prove a bargain. I’ll take that chance.
Extend Lindor. Extend Conforto. Fill a couple of vacancies, vaccinate the roster when permissible and play ball.