The first wave of excitement crested Wednesday night with the completion of the Subway Series sweep, both this week’s and this year’s. Of course it was exciting. It was Mets 12 Yankees 3 [1], with five home runs for the visitors who made themselves at home inside the surprisingly friendly confines of Yankee Stadium. Two for team category leader Francisco Lindor (21), one apiece for current team runner-up Pete Alonso (20); Mark Vientos (13); and Tyrone Taylor (6). Taylor collected three hits overall and made a swell diving catch in center besides. Sean Manaea could have been more efficient and lasted longer — he needed to be bailed out at the 4⅔-inning mark following his 103rd pitch, a ball four that loaded the bases when the score was still kind of close — but the bullpen came through when the bullpen had to come through, starting with Adam Ottavino doing the bailing out of Manaea, and continuing with our two Young guys, Danny and Alex, combining to post three scoreless.
I watch every Mets-Yankees game braced for the worst. When Lindor went deep for the second time, depositing a three-run shot somewhere in the Bronx night to make it 11-2 in the eighth, I unclenched completely. When the game went final, the excitement washed over me. The Empire State Building was lit in orange and blue and so was I.
The second and more telling wave of excitement gathered momentum on this, the morning after.
Yes, I could hear myself think, we swept the Yankees. That’s always great. How could it not be great? I hear they’re not as good a team as they were when the year began, but they are who they are, and we are conditioned to fear and loathe them. No fear after going 4-0 in ’24. Loathing is always in style.
Hence, take that, Gerrit Cole, Cy Young winner we can’t pound enough for my taste. Take that, Juan Soto, mercenary who’s apparently selling something called Fig Urine on August 9, if the sign behind home plate these last two nights was to be understood at first glance (oh, it’s a Juan Soto FIGURINE giveaway…never mind). Take that, Aaron Judge, whose walks are victories for the pitcher walking him, and all ya got out of ours were walks on Tuesday and a hit-by-pitch Wednesday. Take that, the rest of you in your alleged collective slump, no doubt playing possum just to get innocent folks like me overconfident. Take that, you pinstriped hordes who sure do find the exits early when the competitive heat is on (kudos to ESPN for posting a camera outside The Stadium to record the voluminous in-game foot traffic). Get your asses back inside and take your medicine! Oh, it really is great to sweep them.
[2]What’s all this fuss about Juan Soto selling Fig Urine on August 9?
The thinking continued. But that’s over. The Braves are coming in for four. This is an important series. We’re a game-and-a-half behind the Braves for the first Wild Card. I might rue doing these calculations if this weekend turns sour, but if we take three of four…no, don’t go there, not yet. They’ve had their problems lately, but they’re the Braves, just as the problems-have-lately Yankees are…yeesh, I hate to admit this out loud in my head…the Yankees. Some teams you just HAVE to beat, regardless of circumstances. The Braves fucked us over in 2022, and the Braves have been fucking us over since late in the last century, and there’s never enough payback where they’re concerned. Yet we have to look forward, not back. We want to edge closer to the Braves. Catching the Braves and passing the Braves comes if and when it comes. We need to establish some distance between us and everybody who’s chasing us. Look forward, but not too far ahead. One game at a time, like Bobby V tried to drill into our heads. Tonight’s game is the most important game of the year, ’cause it’s the next one we play.
And then, as the first-light thinking proceeded, it dawned on me what was truly going on.
Holy Joe McEwing, I’m actually excited about this team, these Mets, without irony, without cynicism.
I’m actually waking up thinking about them and their chances. I did not see this coming in April. In April, Tyrone Taylor hit a long fly ball in Cincinnati that just missed going out, and I didn’t quite mind because I didn’t want to be told Tyrone Taylor was some kind of undervalued gem only a genius like David Stearns knew enough to pluck from Milwaukee when he’s probably just another outfielder and this 2024 edition of the Mets shapes up as just another team filled with a bunch of Tyrone Taylor-type castoffs, and if there’s one thing I’ve come to detest on a going basis besides the Yankees and the Braves, it’s Met mediocrity being oversold as something brimming with promise. Last night I watched Tyrone Taylor being interviewed postgame, going on about how much he appreciated the Mets fans who filled significant acreage of Yankee Stadium’s seating, and I said to the screen, “That’s my guy!”
I did not see this coming in May. They were so dreadful in May, almost a parody of a bad team. They couldn’t have been as bad as they were in May, but how did that mean they’d get good in June? And don’t tell me “team meeting” and “Grimace”.
As much of a roll as they got on in June, I did not see this coming then, either, except that maybe they’d keep things interesting into August. I wasn’t totally sold on them as recently as this past weekend when they seemed so so-so in Miami. But they’ve kept this up for quite a while now, and they have some really good players who really embrace winning and each other, and that’s gotta be worth something. They didn’t lean on enduring a delayed flight out of Florida as an excuse for exhaustion and therefore losing. They just went out there on limited shuteye, held tight in one game against the Yankees, and then kicked their asses in the next game.
Five games over! Last year, on the Sunday just after they traded Scherzer and just before they traded Verlander, they crept to five games under and I wondered if maybe they weren’t done as at least a fringe contender. No, they traded Verlander and they were done. They never got back to as few as five games under. That was last year, a million years ago. They’re not done now. They’re the opposite of done. They’re in the second Wild Card spot! A real shot at rising higher! Good lord, I’ve got chills just realizing how much I can’t believe this is all happening.
I know the ultimate goal of a baseball fan is supposed to be seeing his or her or their team win the World Series. Mine, I relearned this morning, is to feel like this.