October Surprise

I have two favorite stealth statistics from the 2024 season.

1) When the Mets bottomed out at 22-33 on May 29, everybody in the National League, save for the Rockies and Marlins, had a better record than them: the three division leaders, the three Wild Card holders of the moment, and six teams with what appeared to be more reasonable playoff aspirations. A glance at those standings could have easily persuaded a Mets fan to find something better to do with his time in the summer ahead. But a slightly closer examination would have indicated that, despite the pileup atop his favorite club’s head, the Mets were a mere six games behind whoever tentatively claimed the third Wild Card with 107 games to go. Certainly there was a lot of traffic to navigate, but six games in practically two-thirds of a season could be made up, couldn’t it?

2) When Edwin Diaz gave up his second death-blow home run in three games on August 28, the 69-64 Mets sat four games from the third and final Wild Card spot, which represented a tough but doable climb toward October; six games from the second Wild Card spot, by definition a little harder go; and seven games from the team then possessing the top Wild Card spot, which was really asking for trouble — a seven-game deficit with 29 contests remaining. For comparison’s sake, the 1973 Mets, surely our most frequently cited example of a bunch that wasn’t out of it until they were out of it, lagged 6½ games from where they hoped to land when they still had 29 games to play. Yet when all was said and done divisionally in ’73, the Mets — who’d been in sixth/last place on August 30 — made up eight games on the first-place Cardinals in just over a month and qualified for the postseason as the NL East champions on October 1. They were never out of it.

When all was said and done amid the four-team scramble for three consolation playoff spots in 2024, the Mets did what they had to do. They didn’t catch those second-Wild Card Padres, who finished with the first one; they didn’t quite surpass those third-Wild Card Braves, who finished with the second one; but, son of a gun, they caught all the way up to those first-Wild Card Diamondbacks and, because they beat them on August 29 and therefore took the season series to forge a necessary tiebreaker, they a) made up seven games on Arizona in just over a month; and b) went into the postseason, having sunk their claws into the third Wild Card on September 30. The Snakes were out. The Padres, Braves and, yes, Mets were in.

Nobody ever accused the 1973 Mets’ stretch run of being neat and clean, but in those days, it was a simpler assignment: finish first. In 2024, it wasn’t exactly easier in the moment, but in theory you had four shots at breaking into October. Finish first in your division or, failing that, be one of the trio of also-rans to top all the other also-rans in the senior circuit. These days, you pursue what is there to be pursued. In 2024, the Mets pursued whoever and whatever would get their foot in the door.

One toe over the line, sweet Grimace, one toe over the line. They did it. Was there ever any doubt?

Of course there was. Did you see this team in late March, April and May? Did you see them take three encouraging steps forward and two frustrating steps back too often in June and July and August? Did you mutter over the disappearance of the offense at inopportune intervals in September? Did your faith in the pitching staff persevere without pause despite having to depend on a carousel of gig workers to deliver innings? There was always reason to doubt the 2024 Mets.

But there was never a reason to not believe in them. It was good to be reminded of who we are and who we oughta be, meaning Faith and Fear in Flushing’s Nikon Camera Player of the Year for 2024 — presented to the entity or concept that best symbolizes, illustrates or transcends the year in Metsdom — is Suspension of Disbelief. You Gotta Believe is a living, breathing credo. Any given edition of Mets might not rate a full-throated endorsement when circumstances inspire cynicism, but when a chance rears its pretty head, who are we not to get behind it and boost it?

To say I never gave up on the 2024 New York Mets would be blog perjury. I gave up on them plenty. Still, once they began making their move — which amounted to a three-game sweep of Washington, escaping London with an unblown ninth inning over the Phillies, and a ceremonial first pitch from a furry creature — they seemed viable. The teams they were wafting above simply didn’t have whatever the Mets had, be it a McDonaldland refugee, “OMG” encapsulating the zeitgeist, or the ability to make the most of a players-only meeting. From bottom of the pile at the end of May to a slight Wild Card advantage as the All-Star break approached, progress was marked.

Then quite a bit of slipping and sliding, if not so much to puncture our belief balloon. Things looked good! Things looked less good! Vibes could be, if I may pervert the vernacular, maculate. Yeah, maybe they’ll stay in it…or maybe not. August 21, the afternoon Jesse Winker blasted a walkoff homer versus Baltimore, turning what I considered an impending defeat into an invigorating victory, became my expiration date for any longer sloughing off losses. I guess I have to take them seriously now. Diaz allowing Jackson Merrill to clobber him in the ninth in San Diego on August 25, followed by the Corbin Carroll grand slam in the desert three nights later, had me coming to grips with what probably wasn’t going to be the happiest of season endings.

But I was still taking them seriously the very next day. I didn’t have to do that in May. I might not have done it a couple of weeks earlier. On August 29, however, I realized I was all in, which is a dangerous place to be. Resist the pull of the Mets as September nears, the bruises might be less painful. I’m not sure, since I rarely put up any resistance that time of year.

The Mets rise like a phoenix in Phoenix, the middle stop of their second endless road trip in a month. David Peterson keeps the Snakes mostly at bay for seven innings. Francisco Lindor whacks a game-tying homer to lead off the sixth. Luis Torrens — that dude from the 2-3 DP to ferry us safely out of England — cuts down Jose Butto’s only baserunner to end the eighth. In the top of the ninth, it’s Winker doubling, Tyrone Taylor pinch-running, and Jose Iglesias recording as big a hit as he had in his 2024 repertoire, a single trickling out of the infield to give the Mets a 3-2 lead. In the bottom of the inning, Diaz proves himself reversed to previous and preferable form. The Mets win the series, which is swell for momentum when traveling. They also win the season series from this particular opponent, which will prove to be the Met-ric equivalent of everything.

We didn’t know it, but it was the beginning of a nine-game winning streak which buried for the rest of 2024 any doubt that September wouldn’t involve the Mets. It didn’t bury Met-related doubt. Doubt inhabits every corner when you’re not, say, 19 up with 17 to play — the situation on 9/17/86. These weren’t the 1986 Mets, but never mind what the 2024 Mets weren’t. As they were taking the third of three from Arizona, then not succumbing to any semblance of letdown when they visited the historically wallowing White Sox, then coming home and sweeping the sagging Red Sox, and then knocking off the Reds twice, they were indicating what they were and what they could be. It was when these Mets had won their sixth in a row, it struck me that they and we could go all the way, something that hadn’t occurred to me throughout their ascent from the depths. Maybe they could make the playoffs, I’d figured. It never crossed my mind anything could come of it.

Nine-game winning streaks end. Ups become downs. Downs become ups, too. Vice-versas ensue from there. Things looked great leaving Citi Field for the last time in this irregular regular season as we kept Philadelphia from clinching. Things were uneasy as we endured one night of stumbling in Atlanta, two nights of postponements, and two even uneasier losses in Milwaukee. But it was too late to not believe in this team. Not after 22-33 didn’t kill them. Not after the two Diaz implosions that left them 69-64 didn’t drive a stake through their heart. Peterson is awesome on the final Sunday. Lindor, after nursing a bad back, is limber once more. They beat the Brewers when they absolutely have to. They fly back to Georgia with the mission of one win in a doubleheader. Two would be more fun, as it would shove the Braves out of a plane sans parachute, but one is what matters. The first would be ideal.

The first proves ideal, even if it is the quintessence of uneasy — Tylor Megill, in whom we trust only because we have no other choice, hangs in there as best he can; we are nonetheless down, 3-0, through six; our sudden 6-3 lead (!) in the eighth is surrendered (!!) on the heels of Diaz not covering first base (#@!); we’re down anew, 7-6; with one out in the top of the ninth, Starling Marte singles; Lindor…who else?…homers to make it Mets 8 Braves 7; and Diaz, bless his Sugary soul, returns to the mound to not blow the whole thing.

Eight-Seven on the scoreboard over Atlanta. Seven-Six in the fine print over Arizona, who had just as many wins as us, but when we both finished up 89-73 (as did the Braves), they got elbowed out. We were in. Belief was in, too, all the rage, clear up to the Mets facing a three-game elimination at the hands of the Brewers in the Wild Card round, until we executed a ninth-inning about-face for the ages, and it was on to Philadelphia. Within four games, the division champs crumbled before the great Lindor and the approximately as great Vientos, and don’t forget the great Alonso, whose stick caught fire at the last minute in Milwaukee and remained ablaze during the NLDS, and would you look at that? The New York Mets are in the National League Championship Series.

I’ll let you in on two secrets to bracket those two facts atop this essay:

1) The Mets may have never been less competitive in a postseason round than they were in the 2024 NLCS. From 1969 through 2016, every time the Mets reached October, they gave a hardy game-by-game accounting of themselves, even in the series they lost. The 2022 NLWCS round was a different story (too many initials, probably), but that was only three games. Against the Dodgers, in the four games they lost, the Mets were pretty much completely annihilated. Through the haze of glitter and glory, it bordered on brutal.

2) Between the winning they did do versus the Dodgers and the confidence they evinced whenever asked about their state of play, I never gave up on the 2024 Mets sustaining themselves, not even as they knocked a little too forcefully at death’s door. Well, maybe somewhat on my way home from deflating Game Four, but then they were out there slugging in Game Five and I was pumped yet again. Mostly I thought the Mets were a team of destiny by the time they flew back to L.A. I never totally shook my certitude from early September. It had been built too strong through too much to go against. Mendoza the manger, Nimmo the veteran, Lindor the leader, and all their minions sounded so certain about what they were here for. Who was I to doubt them? When the Mets made a little perfunctory noise late in the process of being blown out in Game Six, I thought, maybe… until nah insisted on carrying the day. I absolutely felt gut-punched at having come pretty close to a pennant and not retrieving it. Yet the feeling evaporated before the first pitch of the World Series, itself an Amazin’ transition. I’m still shaking off the shortfalls of near-miss autumns that transpired long, long ago. I swear, nothing about October 2024 hurts.

So we didn’t win a championship. We won the opportunity to keep believing and be rewarded for that decision. Three months have passed since Lindor put us ahead in Atlanta. I didn’t give up when we were behind, and I haven’t come down since.

FAITH AND FEAR’S PREVIOUS NIKON CAMERA PLAYERS OF THE YEAR

1980: The Magic*
2005: The WFAN broadcast team of Gary Cohen and Howie Rose
2006: Shea Stadium
2007: Uncertainty
2008: The 162-Game Schedule
2009: Two Hands
2010: Realization
2011: Commitment
2012: No-Hitter Nomenclature
2013: Harvey Days
2014: The Dudafly Effect
2015: Precedent — Or The Lack Thereof
2016: The Home Run
2017: The Disabled List
2018: The Last Days of David Wright
2019: Our Kids
2020: Distance (Nikon Mini)
2021: Trajectories
2022: Something Short of Satisfaction
2023: The White Flag

*Manufacturers Hanover Trust Player of the Year