As a lifelong fan of the little brother team, I bristle when Mets doings get put in a Yankees context, whether it’s sports-radio chuckleheadery about who owns New York or ostensibly more serious discussions of free agency or baseball philosophy.
But the connection was inescapable in the ninth inning of Saturday’s game, when Luis Severino [1] took the mound with a 4-0 run lead and 97 pitches thrown, only to hit Jake Burger [2] with the 98th of the day.
Severino had already talked his way into starting the ninth rather than handing the baton to Edwin Diaz [3]; now out came Carlos Mendoza [4], accompanied by boos from more than 34,000 fans who wanted to see Severino finish up. They chanted “Sevy” as Mendoza addressed Severino and his other charcoal-clad charges. (Seriously, it looked like a chimney-sweep convention out there on the mound.) Then the boos turned to cheers as Mendoza turned around and left alone, allowing Severino to continue his work.
He did so, sandwiching a foul pop between two strikeouts and finishing the day with 113 pitches thrown and a four-hit shutout [5]. It was a great baseball moment, and much as I hate to admit it, the fruit of both men’s time with that other team.
Mendoza has known Severino since he was a teenaged Yankee farmhand; his spot on the Yankees’ bench gave him an up-close view of Severino’s struggles with injuries and pitch-tipping and the attendant loss of confidence. And of course both arrived this year as crosstown imports. So when Mendoza took Severino’s temperature, both before the ninth and during it, he had a better baseline for that reading than anyone else in the park.
That Severino got to that point was the product of a few things: a commitment to being aggressive in the strike zone; an aggressive Marlins team that helped that mission immeasurably; and support from the Mets hitters, who put up a picket fence of single runs in the first through fourth innings against Max Meyer [6], something they hadn’t done since 1995. (That’s referring to the picket-fence part; Meyer was four years away from being born in 1995.)
To call the Marlins aggressive understates it by a fair bit; they were aggressive bordering on frantic. In the third Severino pulled off the unlikely feat of retiring the side on three pitches despite allowing a hit: first-pitch single by Vidal Brujan [7], ball thrown away (not a pitch) to allow Brujan to take second, first-pitch lineout by Nick Fortes [8], first-pitch grounder to shortstop by Xavier Edwards [9] that saw Brujan foolishly light out for third, followed by a rundown and Edwards getting nabbed trying to take second. In the dugout, Skip Schumaker looked like he wanted to click his heels together three times and be teleported home, or most anywhere that wasn’t his own dugout.
Remarkable — and in the sixth, the Marlins went down on four pitches.
Given Severino’s workload, the Mets could easily find themselves wishing they’d saved 15-odd bullets for later this season, but in the moment it felt like the right call: Severino badly wanted to make up for a recent rocky stretch, and other pitches have bullets that might need saving. Mendoza left him in, it worked out, and that’s worthy of applause, even if it was for two old Yankees.