And yet, it felt fantastical. I wasn’t entirely sure the road I walked was even there anymore. And even if it were there as the map said, and even if I went to walk it again on another day, another season, maybe in a different pair of shoes, it wouldn’t be the same road. I had found a proper seam at the start of that one spring and had slipped into it. The road I walked was there on that one day. Other roads and other seams await. But that road is no longer there.
—Neil King, Jr., American Ramble
I hope to someday awake from a dream postseason to find the dream reached its optimal conclusion, and that my first thought come daybreak is, “I’m really gonna have to get rolling if I wanna make that parade.” Such a morning hasn’t happened for the longest time. Instead, I follow a pattern I inadvertently established a quarter-century ago this week and have repeated as applicable.
The Mets’ valiant attempt to attain a championship lands shy of its goal.
I stew for several wee hours.
I nod off jarred by the reality that has set in.
I rise sleepily to confirm that, after weeks/months spent navigating the edge of heaven, joy has morphed to void.
Postseason has become offseason.
The Mets of this year are, at once, the Mets of last year.
No matter how great it all was — and in the part of 2024 we shall recall as “2024,” all but four miserable NLCS losses of it was great — it ends. The siren song of possibility was extremely loud. The sense of ultimate reward was incredibly close. These opportunities have proven intermittent over the past 25 years. How can the absolute most not be made of them? At minimum, another game should await. At maximum, paper shredders should be revving on our team’s behalf in the office buildings of Lower Broadway a couple of weeks hence to ensure an adequate supply of ticker tape. Instead, there’s no game the next night or any night soon, and we’ll have to wait for another collection of Mets to have garbage thrown out of windows at them with adoration. Another opportunity has gone by the boards, and another inadvertently established pattern takes hold. In our virtual councils, we pat one another on the back. In real life, we graciously accept well-meaning pats on the heads from those outside our immediate sphere of interest. Everywhere, we necessarily move on from what we perceive as a Met job well done, if not thoroughly completed.
After living in a veritable highlight reel for nearly two months, leaving it is a drag. The first day realizing that the montage won’t be added to is inevitably cold and barren, even if we are convinced that inside we should be feeling warm all over. On the Monday after the Sunday that ended the 2024 Mets’ ride through euphoria, I mustered the wherewithal to peer over the horizon toward conceivably happier endings. Maybe, I told myself, we’re the 2015 Cubs, who we were chuffed to watch get swept by the 2015 Mets in that year’s NLCS. Those Cubs didn’t reach a conclusion. They had finished only their prelude to the world championship they went on to capture in 2016. That’s a template I can envision bridging the disappointment I’m sorting through presently and the celebration I seek eventually.
Still, I take my cues from Francisco Lindor. I look at Lindor the way Mr. Thomson, Secretary of the Continental Congress, looked at George Washington in 1776. John Adams wondered whether this man Thomson, whose responsibilities in the movie consisted of calling the roll and reading aloud dispatches delivered from the front, stood with the pro- or anti-independence forces in Congress. “I stand with the General,” Thomson replied. When Adams found this response unsatisfactory, Thomson explained, as he unfurled another military missive from G. Washington, “Well, lately, I’ve had the oddest feeling that he’s been writing to me.” Lindor blasted a grand slam that effectively clinched the Division Series, yet treated his trip around the bases as if it were just another drill in Port St. Lucie: head down; one foot placed in front of the other at a brisk and steady tempo; every base and then home plate touched; priority shifting from offense to defense upon the recording of the third out. Taking a 4-1 lead in the sixth inning and simultaneously dealing a death blow to the Phillies’ chances wasn’t Lindor’s mission. Winning the World Series was. Six games versus Los Angeles later, it still is.
Mine, too. It wasn’t something I considered within reach when 2024 commenced, but there it was, two handfuls of wins away. Too close for consolation pats. I think that’s why I valued our MVP’s trot as much as his blast. So when Lindor was asked, following the Mets’ elimination, if he considered the organization well-positioned to maintain the level to which the club had surprisingly ascended this fall, he expressed positivity, though added quickly, “Nothing’s promised in this game.” He repeated the phrase twice more, and a moment later reminded reporters, “Every year, whether you have the same guys or not, it’s a different year.”
I stand with the shortstop.
He’ll be back. Many if not all of the Mets with whom we made common cause will return, too. Some won’t. We’ll know who’s not here anymore by the way the montages are edited for 2025 viewing. Lindor’s myriad dramatic hits will be included, as will those stroked by Brandon Nimmo and Mark Vientos. Nimmo, like Lindor, is under contract for years to come. Vientos is under team control and won’t be going anywhere, except perhaps across the infield, depending on whether the incumbent first baseman who homered four times in the postseason is afflicted by lucrative wanderlust.
I sure hope Pete Alonso stays. Maybe there can be another postseason without him. It won’t be as awesome a party. Same for the several other key Mets who will file for free agency. You can’t keep everybody, and our discerning president of baseball operations understands that you probably shouldn’t. Nevertheless, who wants to bid adieu to Alonso, Manaea, Severino, Quintana, Iglesias, Winker and whoever else imprinted themselves on our souls over the past few months? Who would ever want what we had going in 2024 to end? Besides the Dodgers, I mean?
It was gonna end sooner or later. It could have ended better. It couldn’t have proceeded with a whole lot more elation. That’s what’s beginning to fill the void for me as the second day of the offseason that used to be the postseason prepares to dawn. This oughta be a time for revel rather than regret. That reel we lived in contained the highest of highlights. Close your eyes and watch them on a loop. You won’t be sorry.
A discussion of how the Mets’ postseason ended and why the end hardly defines the whole is up at National League Town.
“Taking a 4-1 lead in the sixth inning and simultaneously dealing a death blow to the Phillies’ chances wasn’t Lindor’s mission. Winning the World Series was. Six games versus Los Angeles later, it still is.”
They talk Magic Numbers. From the moment we qualified for the playoffs mine was 13 on the win side. We got to 7. Maybe next year.
Or maybe not. We’re Mets fans, not Dodgers or Yankees fans. We know these chances don’t come along all that often. Though maybe in another half-dozen years we’ll know different.
They can’t guarantee us championships, but consistent bites at the playoff apple is the point of having Cohen plus Stearns. The 3rd wildcard helps.
Perhaps we’ll see another tv commercial, depicting a man in the subway reading a newspaper, looking up & smiling after thinking about a just-completed, non-championship Mets season.
Over the past few weeks, I was reminded repeatedly of 1985: SNY may as well complete the picture.
Funny – I’d been more reminded of ‘84 — unexpected and delightful and then disappointing, though understandable. But with the promise of a bright future.
The difference is that in ’84 (and ’85 for that matter), we had a core of young players that weren’t about to become free agents. However, we didn’t have an owner with a bottomless pit of money, so there’s that.
I don’t understand all this optimism, not just here, but just about everywhere I’m reading. This whole season feels like Lightning in a Bottle to me, rather than The Start of Something Big.
The starting pitchers most likely pitched over their heads. Lindor’s going to be 31, if he doesn’t have another MVP Caliber season all bets are off. Alonso, even if he stays, will also be a year older, not good for a Big Guy already a little on the decline. McNeil, also older, and 2 years in already on his decline. Nimmo too. The Bit Part guys (Bader, Taylor, Iglesias, etc) won’t do the Magic Bit Part Things they did this year. The only thing that probably won’t get worse is the Bullpen, how could it?
And I hope they don’t bet the farm on Soto. He’s not a Met. I’d much rather they find 3 or 4 underrated Ten Million Dollar guys, and Stearns & Co. seem to be very good at that.
Thanks for your “amazing” writing Jason and Greg. You enhanced the enjoyment of the journey along the way of this most improbable season.
The evidence overwhelmingly, and most unfortunately, supports that the Lighting in a Bottle perspective is the far more likely scenario.
After watching the Dodgers series, one inescapably realizes how far superior, from the ownership all the way down, that organization is compared to the Mets. There’s a reason why Ohtani and Yamamoto signed there and not with the Mets. There’s lots of reasons why the Dodgers are in the WS and the Mets aren’t.
Stearns has only been here a year though.
Give him credit.
There’s still a lot to fix, however.
We have to take one year at a time.
The pitching is definitely Lightning in a Bottle (but a full season of Senga would definitely help, and the bullpen can always be better), but I’m not as sold on the hitting being *as much* of an issue. Vientos had a breakout year, and I think we can expect more to come from him (either at 1B or 3B, presumably the former if Pete doesn’t resign/he becomes a full-time DH and Baty comes back to play 3B). Nimmo was playing hurt down the stretch and still performed at his regularly solid level. Lindor probably won’t have another MVP year, but will probably be strong. Acuña looks like a player. The only pieces of the puzzle who I’m worried will come hurtling down to earth are Marte and (definitely) Iglesias. I don’t think this is the prelude to a dynasty or anything, but I think running back “sneaking into the playoffs (albeit maybe a little more comfortably?) and making a run” is distinctly possible.
My only hope for the World Series this year is that Soto puts up some Reggie Jackson highlights and it forces the Yankees to sign him.
As long as Pete doesn’t hold out for his own borough then not signing him would be this decade’s version of letting Jose Reyes walk.
Take all that Soto money and sign some pitchers (this time under 40 years old).
Take a flyer on Iglesias and Winker and see if they’ll take one year deals. Maybe they have some more gas in the tank.
Hate to say it, but every single successful season is lightning in a bottle. Even 1986. Even with the 108 wins, everything had to break just right. The Mets had absolutely zero serious injuries that year, and they could have very easily lost in the postseason. They were good, but they were also lucky.
For what it’s worth, the ‘87 Mets were actually better on paper, with Kevin McReynolds and David Cone added to the mix, and with HoJo playing full time. But the lightning evaded the bottle that year. All in all, the most powerful Met team of all won exactly one World Series.
What I’m saying is, sure, this year was lightning in a bottle. But remember, Lindor and Vientos are staying, Nimmo will (hopefully) begin the year injury-free, and Kodai Senga will throw his first ghost on Opening Day ‘25. We get a healthy Francisco Alvarez. Maybe our ridiculously wealthy owner throws enough money at Manaea and Alonso that they stay on a team they (reportedly) like a lot anyway. And the bit players get replaced with young guys like Luisangel Acuna, Jett Williams, Ronny Mauricio (remember him?) and Bret Baty (yes, he’s still young). And maybe some of the kids are not actually bit players, and become next year’s version of Mark Vientos 2024.
Of course, all of this may not happen, and the Mets could regress. But they are at least in a position to catch lightning in their bottle again next year, and there were plenty of Mets seasons when that simply wasn’t possible. I like our chances.
And if we flounder around the first 2 months of 2025, we know we have an owner and a GM who can fix up the team for another stretch run.
Unless of course, we drew to an inside straight this season.
Excellent point. If the previous owner were still here, at the end of the season Adrian Hauser would still be in the rotation, Jake Diekman would still be the setup man in the bullpen, and Joey Wendle would be playing third. Jose Iglesias would have been selected off waivers by the Braves, and Mark Vientos would be battling Bret Baty for playing time in AAA. The owner would have made comments about Lindor not being a superstar, and that Alonso shouldn’t expect to get Juan Soto money as a free agent. And we would have been mired in the cellar since May, which the owner would have attributed to his team being snakebitten.
Perspective, folks. We are sooooooo much better off than we used to be.
“I don’t understand all this optimism, not just here, but just about everywhere I’m reading. This whole season feels like Lightning in a Bottle to me, rather than The Start of Something Big.”
I’m disappointed that the 2024 Mets fell short with this year’s lightning in a bottle. For me, the start of something big isn’t based on the players on the 2024 roster, in contrast to our dashed hopes based on the rising star pitchers of the 2015 Mets. Rather, it’s based on the 2024 performance of the organization behind the players, which will be in place for the long haul as the players change out.
A post that perfectly sums up my feelings as well. In the immediate aftermath, I don’t want to hear what a great ride it was, and how proud we are of this team. Of course we are. But going to the NLCS is a rare feat that may not soon be repeated. I can’t help seeing this as a lost opportunity. Maybe in time I’ll feel differently.
Just ask Phillies fans, who are watching their team get better yet at the same time backsliding from the WS to NLCS to NLDS.
Better yet, ask Lindor. He was 1 win from the ring in his age 22 season in 2016, up 3-1 on the Cubs. He’s about to turn 31 and hasn’t made it back to that point.
it’s taken me time to get used to the season being over. i honestly don’t expect to watch any of the world series. (ftr this child of brooklyn will grudgingly give the dodgers dispensation to beat the effin nyy.)
i thank the mets for everything they were able to accomplish, and don’t hold the bit they weren’t able to against them. they made me as giddy as howie rose sounded. it was fun to dust off all the superstitions and lucky socks and try out newfound traditions. it was satisfying to care that deeply again. and be rewarded for it.
the best thing about their run is that the players got it as much as any of us that the playoffs are never to be taken for granted, no matter how you made it in.
so they tried, and succeeded, and tried and succeeded, until finally they tried and fell short.
all those who call this a one-off, i agree. there is never going to be a vintage quite like 2024.
but part of what makes baseball so fascinating is following the team and its individual parts around for half a year or more; we know what they’re capable of, or not, yet they still surprise us.
and even when the career years aren’t repeated, the guys who stay will have ’24 to draw solace or strength from. as will the new guys. because this team won’t forget this season. and neither will we.
The most encouraging aspect of the 2024 in terms of ‘sustainable success’ isn’t the roster, since it was constructed to be a one-off team: the holdover 2022, 2023 Mets with a temporary ad hoc patch. Rather, the most encouraging aspect of 2024 is the agile performance of the front office, field manager, and their various staffs. They identified and acquired the right players and kept them productive on the field. Severino, for example, contributed much more and longer than we reasonably expected. He credited the Mets performance staff. Same for Bader to a lesser extent. Lindor, whose late back injury could have derailed the wildcard chase, made it back in time. On the player development side, Vientos and Acuna’s contributions indicate that the Mets minor league system might now be a strength.
The 2025 Mets look vague right now. Next year’s team may not rediscover the 2015 Royals-esque magic of the 2024 Mets. But the 2024 season earned my trust in the Stearns and Mendoza-led organization to make the right decisions in constructing next year’s team and giving it what it needs to take another bite at the playoff apple.
As Mets seasons go, 2024 was like the weather in New England; it had a little bit of everything. Lows, highs and a run to a championship that came up a little short. This team never quit, never stopped believing in itself, and we the fans enjoyed one hell of a ride.
But what now? What becomes of Severino, Manea and Alonso? Would the idea of moving Vientos to first and trying Baty or Mauricio at third be so bad? And I don’t mean to dismiss the Polar Bear, but couldn’t he be resigned to be the everyday DH? Taking Pete away from everyday first base duty might be the answer to his slumbering hitting.
Loving a team means loving the parts of the team is compromised of. Seeing them broken up and scattered, while a fact of life, is difficult. Somebody once said we “root for the laundry”, but, at least to me, who’s wearing it makes a big difference. Here’s to a prosperous hot stove league!
With the well-earned praise for the front office and field manager, here’s a criticism concerning the NLCS loss: If the Mets knew, or were at least concerned, that the pitchers were on the verge of hitting the wall, then it seems like a mistake to have gone with 12 pitchers for the series, instead of 13 or even 14 if the pitching staff’s state of exhaustion was dire enough. A reason given for Senga’s NLCS game 1 start was to manufacture an extra day off for the rest of the staff, which shows the Mets were concerned. In the end, Senga’s start and the 2 off days weren’t enough to reenergize the staff.
Would adding 1 or maybe 2 of Ottavino, Brazoban, Alex Young, and Lucchesi have made a difference to the NLCS defeat? I highly doubt it. But as it happened, we saw the Mets pitchers, who had carried the team to the NLCS and enabled the batting heroics, clearly gas out against an elite offense that exploited the slippage. Adding a fresh arm or two to the NLCS roster might have been smarter than reducing the pitching staff from 13 to 12.
I don’t believe the Dodgers offense is that much better than the Phillies offense. I expect that the Dodgers offense will not look as strong against the Yankees because I believe the Mets pitchers gassing out between the NLDS and NLCS was a big reason that the Dodgers, particularly Edman, looked so strong against the Mets.
On the other hand, who knows how much “gas” pitchers have in the tank. I don’t think this very long break between the LCS and WS is particularly helpful to pitchers’ rhythms. The Mets had a long break in 2015 and it wasn’t at all helpful. The Mets hitters failed in too many situations against the Dodgers, so I can’t blame it all on gassed-out pitchers.
“who knows how much “gas” pitchers have in the tank”
We fans don’t. The Phillies, a top-5 MLB offense in their own right, scored 2, 7, 2, 1 in the NLDS. So we reasonably believed the Mets pitchers had enough gas in the tank for at least the NLCS. Going in, I wondered about going from 13 to 12 pitchers out of respect for the Dodgers offense, but was okay about adding McNeil and keeping Acuna given how well the Mets pitched down the stretch and through the WCS and NLDS.
The question is if in-house, the Mets knew, or were at least concerned about it. We fans understood the rotation reasons for Senga starting NLDS game 1. Yet many of us wondered why he was starting NLCS game 1 when that wasn’t needed for rotation reasons. Now we know why. Since the Mets were worried enough in-house to start Senga game 1, then why were they not worried enough to roster 13 pitchers? Again, I doubt that would have flipped the NLCS loss to a win, but it’s a question.
And you’re right that the Mets put enough runners on all series to go blow for blow with the Dodgers, but didn’t cash enough in to win the series.
Sure it would have made a difference having those guys on the staff. We would have lost by even more.
Yeah, a fresh arm was fresh in the first place because the Mets didn’t trust that pitcher enough to use him enough to exhaust him.
Part of asking the question of 13 versus 12 pitchers is looking over the play-by-plays and trying to imagine where an Ottavino (most likely), Alex Young, Brazoban, or Lucchesi might have made a difference. There were spots in game 6, in which the Mets scored 5, where I can imagine the good version of Ottavino making a difference. On the other hand, the hypothetical assumes Mendoza trusting that pitcher in a high-leverage situation, no room for error in an elimination game versus a flowing Dodgers offense. Would Mendoza have used Ottavino or any of the others, no matter how fresh their arm, ahead of a relatively fresh Butto in game 6? I doubt it, and by the time Butto was deployed behind Senga, game 6 was out of reach.
What’s it been, 4 days since the Mets played a game? It feels like it’s been 2 months.
It was a great season – led by a great executive and field management team – and a great group of players that came together by June and played inspirational ball all the way to the NLCS.
“played inspirational ball all the way to the NLCS”
All the way to Game 6 of the NLCS. I’m particular about that because the 2015 World Series game 5 loss to the Royals at home hurt. I was all set for deGrom and Syndergaard’s starts in Kansas City, and it was denied. I appreciate that this time, down 3-1, the Mets won game 5, didn’t allow the Dodgers to celebrate at Citi Field, and took the series back to LA with a chance to win 1 to tie and then the game 7 winner-take-all. I put winning NLCS game 5 on the same shelf of redemption as clinching a playoff berth in Atlanta and winning game 3 of the WCS.
So the World Series isn’t even over yet, and we’ve already got the first ridiculous trade rumor of the winter. To wit: The Mets are about to trade half their farm to the Texas Rangers for the privilege of heaving billions of dollars at 37-year-old Jacob deGrom, fresh off TJ surgery and with a no-trade clause to boot.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s one my favorite Mets of all time. But Recidivist Jake? Really? C’mon, Hot Stove World, you gotta do better than that.