If things were going better for them, the Mets would have won a game in Cleveland, maybe two, possibly all three. I realize that’s akin to invoking the old saying that if Carlos Mendoza’s aunt’s frog had wings, then every day would be Christmas; there are a lot of old sayings tantamount to declaring things would be different if only they were. But you know how it is with baseball teams. Ones in a good groove make the most of their situations. If the Mets were currently inhabiting one of those grooves, the scattered positive trendlines detectable here and there would tie together, and suddenly defeats would be victories.
Alas, frogs are still bumping their behinds, dear old Aunt Maria isn’t Uncle Pablo, and Christmas Day still comes only once a year. It surely didn’t arrive on Wednesday afternoon, when the Mets finished their stay in Northeast Ohio packing coal-filled stockings as souvenirs. Despite some bats waking up and several innings appearing well-pitched, the Mets lost [1], which is something the Mets have been doing a lot of late, no matter who hits and who pitches.
For those who’ve stopped keeping track, the Mets have lost ten of their last thirteen, encompassing four series in which brief individual pulsations haven’t added up to a collective heartbeat. I’m tempted to say it’s one of the most deathly stretches of baseball I’ve seen in 56 seasons watching this franchise, though I know there are veritable dugouts full of orange-and-blue ghosts demanding I hold their dismal beer. It doesn’t really matter that the 2024 Mets are probably better than dozens of previous editions of Mets. It’s the Mets right now who almost daily make one regret an investment of time and commitment.
Thanks to the playoff system that bestows potential contender status on almost everybody on Rob Manfred’s green earth, the season isn’t near over in the figurative sense. Should the Mets find the groove that’s eluded them and start capturing the games and series that mysteriously keep winding up in somebody else’s win column, tunes are designed to be changed. This is where my instinct is to invoke that golden handful of campaigns in which the Mets looked awful before the All-Star break and then made a spirited run to the finish, the lesson being it ain’t over until you believe it is, or however that one goes.
[2]Yet it’s too early for that framing and there haven’t been enough substantive signs of life to imagine a meaningful turnaround. What would change the tune? Get into that groove. Be watchable for nine consecutive innings, then another nine consecutive innings. Make a habit of good baseball rather than the kind you’ve been playing. Do some actual winning rather than talking about how capable you are of winning and how surprising it is to you that you are losing. At this point, you’re the only ones who are much shocked by what you’ve been doing.
I’m still watching, but that’s not shocking. Questionable habits are hard to break.