The Mets soared over Citi Field this past week, swooping home between excursions west and scooping up a six-game winning streak, demolishing Philadelphia, destroying Washington and , from a distance, demoralizing Atlanta [1]. On Wednesday afternoon, they completed their perfect Flushing stand by shutting out the Nationals [2], 5-0. Colombian Carlos Carrasco [3] pitched in front of his father for the first time since Cookie made the majors, showing off shutout form for five innings before turning the blanks over to the bullpen for safe keeping. If that wasn’t heartwarming [4] enough, there was Tomás Nido [5] collecting four hits, Francisco Lindor [6] extending his RBI streak to ten games, Luis Guillorme [7] remaining fabulous and…what? What else do you need as your team nears the one-third stage of its soundest season of the century?
The Mets, as Jason noted after the winning streak reached five, are really good [8]. They may be better collectively than they were in 2006, the last time we as Mets fans who like to write concluded by June that nobody was gonna get us [9]. I went to Tuesday night’s game. I came as close as I have in ages to being certain before I took my seat that I was about to witness a Mets win. Win Certainty transcended Win Probability. The Mets scored two in the first, two in the third, four in the fifth, two in the sixth and gave up none in any of the nine. You can’t derive more Win Certainty from any analytical formula than you could from these Mets playing those Nats.
Certainty necessarily eludes the Mets as they fly to Los Angeles. Mets-Dodgers is a matchup a competitive continent removed from Mets-Nationals. That’s all right. That’s the schedule. Two first-place teams will show down. Both will emerge. This isn’t The Octagon. It’s a series in early June. We’ll caffeine up and watch until we can’t keep our eyes open. The Mets may be all the stimulant we need. The Dodgers may put a temporary sleeper hold on our streaking ways. It’s not out of the realm of probability. Whatever. They and we are each headed for baseball beyond the requisite 162. Their lead isn’t large enough to say for sure they’ll win the West, but it’s hard to imagine they’ll miss the postseason.
Us? We’re 10½ ahead of the pack in the East and not about to plummet through the floor of the Wild Card fallback. Look around this team, this organization. It knows what it’s doing on a day-to-day, series-to-series basis. The professionalism is inspiring. The only times the Mets have had a record as good as their current 35-17 mark after 52 games were 1986 and 1988, both years that had playoffs attached to them. Throw in 2006, and that’s three dominant division-title campaigns invoked with confidence and sans superstition. Maybe I shouldn’t rely too much on precedent here because there are too many Mets fans, I believe, who — even when the best of times are in progress — only want to point out all the times the Mets fell short of their goals and aspirations and lean on those times and those Mets to wallow in residual regret that never quite fades.
Those Mets weren’t these Mets. These Mets are something else. So is this season. It’s a season of winning and a season of healing. Let the therapeutic waters of these Mets wash over your soul. Your soul will thank you.
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Mets fan Dan Braun will thank you for checking out a story he’d like to share with you [10]. Dan, who also cheers for the Red Sox, a dual loyalty permissible when it’s not October of 1986, has been in New England taking care of his ailing mother — she’s quite the “firecracker” in her own right (Ma Braun once chased George Steinbrenner off a Boston barstool) — while trying to get a new venture off the ground: a US version of the UK pub the Bootlegger, right here in New York.
There’s a lot going on in Dan’s life and he could use a hand, or at least an ear. He thanks you for any time and consideration you might lend him.