Ah, the rites of Spring. Two, specifically…
1) The first press availability of the year with players who rate a full-blown sitdown with the assembled St. Lucie media. Francisco Lindor one day, Juan Soto the next, Pete Alonso today. Revelations? They’re thrilled to be back, or here, or back here. Why shouldn’t they be? They’re all well-paid Mets on a Mets team that they (in the company of their teammates) will attempt to elevate higher than the Mets team of last year, a thrilling unit that featured two of the aforementioned three. I’m thrilled to see them back, or here, or back here, even in the goofy smiling Mr. Met in shades caps they’ve been issued to remind us that Spring Training is supposed to be fun.
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2) A starting pitcher is out [2]. Well, that’s less fun, but not altogether unexpected. A starting pitcher is inevitably out this time of year, wrecking all the clever rotation spins we’ve already worked out in our heads. Frankie Montas [3] is this year’s reverse-lottery winner of the Pang of Spring. High-grade lat sprain. PRP injection. Out six to eight weeks. I don’t necessarily understand the diagnosis or the treatment, but I repeat them the way Mets fans repeat whatever they’ve been told about whichever pitcher who is out in a given Spring. I understand six to eight weeks, though from there there’s a murky forecast for what that means about a return. Maybe May. Maybe June. A little before or after the All-Star break always projects as a safe bet, regardless of actual malady, because it’s far off enough to not feel like recovery and rehabilitation is being rushed, near enough so that it’s neither too late nor next year. Plus you have the trade deadline comp when a pitcher comes back in July: “It’s like trading for a Frankie Montas.” Over the last three years, we traded for a Kodai Senga (2024), a Jose Quintana (2023) and a Jacob deGrom (2022). We already had them, yet such deals!
Get well, Frankie Montas. Get some more pitching, David Stearns. Stay thrilled, Mets fans. It’s Spring Training. All the Mets who aren’t Montas are rarin’ to go. No wonder Mr. Met is smiling.