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The Asterisk of Heartbreak

A couple of things I’ve finally figured out about pitchers in recent years of fandom:

Anyway, those three points were floating around in my nervous brain during and then after the Mets lost a 2-1 heartbreaker to the Phillies to drop the rubber game and the third of 16 games in their stand-or-fall end-of-season gantlet. (For those keeping score at home, which is all of us, we’re now at the 18.75% mark, the Padres and D-Backs won, and the Braves lost.)

I’m sure I’ve wanted to drive David Peterson [7] to the airport myself a time or two; there have been long stretches of his Mets career where I’ve lumped him in with Tylor Megill [8] and basically shrugged that he has good stuff but may not ever figure it out. He’s also been hurt quite a bit; during 2023 his health devolved from “fine” to “OK” to “you have a torn labrum in your hip and we need to fix it.” Peterson is now healthy (or at least back to “fine”) and on Sunday he was the best I’ve ever seen him, using all his pitches aggressively and steaming through an intimidating Phillies lineup.

Alas, Cristopher Sanchez [9] was also pitching beautifully, yanking Mets hitters back and forth with his changeup and his fastball so that they were always fighting the last war. (Poor Mark Vientos [10]‘ post-strikeout expression evolved from outraged to stoic to doomed and accepting.) Add a stiff wind pushing balls away from right field and you had a scoreless duel; watching a 0-0 game I sometimes wonder if the pitchers are on or if it’s more that the bats are lethargic, but this one was the real thing.

It was a wonderful baseball game, taut and crisp and carrying a riveted crowd along for the ride as the tension got cranked steadily higher; I just hoped that wouldn’t turn into an asterisk, the thing you grudgingly admit once you run out of steam lamenting a heartbreaking loss.

The Mets finally broke through in the eighth against Sanchez, as Tyrone Taylor [11] lifted a ball to left field, sufficiently removed from the wind’s sphere of influence to land in the seats. The lead lasted approximately eight seconds, though: Peterson started the bottom of the eighth by surrendering consecutive doubles to the wonderfully named Weston Wilson [12] and the pedestrianly named Buddy Kennedy [13], and just like that we were tied. As had happened in Saturday’s heartbreaker, the Mets were tied and looking at losing the lead with a runner on third and one out. Peterson completed his work by getting Kyle Schwarber [14] to ground out; then Phil Maton [15] did what Reed Garrett [16] couldn’t on Saturday and got the Mets out of the eighth with the tie intact.

It was still tied in the bottom of the ninth with Edwin Diaz [17] pitching, wearing 21 and no name in honor of Roberto Clemente [18]. Francisco Lindor [19] had done the same in what became a cameo, as he wisely removed himself after an inning of work showed his back wasn’t up to the task; yes, you can now officially worry.

Diaz struck out Bryce Harper [20] and went to work on Nick Castellanos [21], with Francisco Alvarez [22] looking particularly demonstrative behind the plate, emphasizing where he wanted Diaz to locate his pitches. I noticed that; I also noticed that Diaz kept putting the high fastball, the waste pitch meant to change a hitter’s eyeline, at the top of the strike zone instead of above it where Alvarez seemed to want it.

Castellanos managed to serve one of those not-high-enough fastballs to right for a one-out single; Diaz struck out Alec Bohm [23] but paid no attention to the lead-footed Castellanos, who alertly swiped second as J.T. Realmuto [24] came to the plate. Diaz threw two high-90s fastballs to Realmuto to get ahead 0-2 and Alvarez indicated he wanted the next one up and out of the strike zone — the pitch Diaz hadn’t been locating as desired all inning.

He didn’t locate this one either — the ball was where Realmuto could handle it, he smacked it to right-center, and the Mets had lost [25].

Wonderful baseball game; too bad about that asterisk.