Many Americans have pretended to have medical knowledge these past five years, so why shouldn’t a fan watching a baseball game on TV try to discern what’s wrong with a pitcher who doesn’t look physically right? My telehealth patient was David Peterson [1], who’d been rolling along through four-plus innings of grounding the Blue Jays Sunday afternoon at Citi Field until something appeared wrong with him. The most wrong thing was a pair of baserunners, unless he was hurting. And if he was hurting, what was he doing out there for more than the seconds it took Carlos Mendoza and a coterie of the concerned to gather around Peterson? All these questions. No quick answers.
And I pretend to call myself a doctor.
I wondered if Peterson — or “Petey,” as he is referred to internally, which I’m sure makes for absolutely no clubhouse confusion in Mr. Alonso’s Neighborhood — didn’t want to leave simply because he was one out away from qualifying for a win. A long journey from partial to final remained on the enormous scoreboard, but the Mets were ahead, 2-0, with two out in the fifth. Petey’s pitch count had risen to the point where he probably wasn’t going to throw in the sixth, anyway. Was he really that concerned about his personal stats while his…his something…was awry?
The questions continued as Mendoza left him in to make the inning dicier. First and third became bases loaded on a walk. A hit-by-pitch brought in a run. David’s gamer/trouper instincts were blowing up on him and us, and his…his something…clearly needed attention.
Mendy came out and got Petey. Mendy and Petey later averred it was nothing — NOTHING — physical. Not exactly nothing, depending on how you define physical. Nausea was the culprit. Overwhelmed our patient in a flash, apparently, just in time to disrupt the one thing a starting pitcher is conditioned to do every five days. The sensation was like being “punched in the stomach,” the southpaw said. He also mentioned vision that briefly blurred (don’t like the way that sounds, but I’m still not a doctor). The manager’s used his bullpen a lot in the early going. It would have been superb if his more-or-less ace could have finished the fifth. Any fewer pitches the relief corps throws in the fifth are that many more pitches reserved for use in future innings.
David tried. More stunningly, he was allowed to try. Caution usually carries the day in those situations. Tossing caution to the breeze, the bullpen gate remained closed for what felt like an eternity but was actually six pitches, six pitches that halved the lead but didn’t prove fatal to either the pitcher or the score. All the waiting to take out Peterson (the Mets managed to sneak in an extra mound visit between the injury visit and the visit to remove the starter) did buy Max Kranick [2] some valuable warmup time. True, Max could have entered on the heels of “he might be hurt” and hence be permitted “all the time he needs” to get ready, but that rarely gets a pitcher ready right. Hey, listen, we’re all watching you and waiting for you and only you so we can get back to why we’re here, but you take all the time you need, really, no pressure.” Instead, Max properly prepared before trotting toward the center of the diamond, and Kranick responded by retiring the first batter he faced, the last out of the fifth, popping Alejandro Kirk to his catcher Hayden Senger [3].
In every season, there’s a moment when stories become players. Kranick the kid who grew up a Mets fan was a story. Senger the minor league lifer who hadn’t totally extricated himself from his offseason job at a Whole Foods was a story. It was fun to learn about their backgrounds during Spring Training. It was cause to smile when they each made the team. It brought about applause when they got their first chances to do their thing as honest-to-goodness Mets. I don’t know how much we expected from either gentleman. What’s that line in “Hey Jealousy [4]” about fellas on the fringes of rosters? If you don’t expect too much from them, you might not be let down.
[5]I don’t know how much we expect from Kranick and Senger, but they’re now players rather than stories. Pretty good players to date. We don’t wriggle out of Peterson’s exit without Kranick coming through in the fifth like he’s come through every time he’s been presented a challenge. We were OK all weekend because Senger filled in capably behind Luis Torrens, who mostly sat in deference to a contusion, or what normal people identify as a bruise. We didn’t remain on the victory track in the sixth without Kranick continuing to set aside major league hitters. Maybe some other pitcher takes care of the Jays in that situation, but then depth gets tested. Kranick was the depth there. So was Senger, whose walk from the nine-hole commenced the Mets’ lone inning of scoring, the third. Hayden’s base on balls preceded his more famous teammates’ contributions to the cause. Juan Soto walked. Pete Alonso singled to score Senger and send Soto to third. Brandon Nimmo lifted a deep fly to score Soto.
Those were the two runs off Bowden Francis that put Peterson in position to be the winning pitcher, if not for his stomach issue. Those instead became the two runs that allowed Kranick to earn his first Met win, and the club its fourth in a row [6], including all three from Toronto. This one was a 2-1 decision that held up surprisingly well post-Petey. Kranick’s inning-and-a-third segued to one scoreless frame apiece from Reed Garrett, A.J. Minter, and Edwin Diaz. Diaz’s nickname is Sugar, but I’m petitioning to change it to Sloopy. Edwin hit two batters in the ninth, but dug down to hang on. He has a lot of ninth innings when “Hang On Sloopy [7]” more accurately describes his vibe than “Narco”.
[8]If I may pivot from the McCoys back to Gin Blossoms, unfulfilled expectations can crush a fan. They crushed us (certainly me) in 2023. Conversely, watching a lack of expectations get surpassed in spades can have us floating on air. That was the case for us (me included) in 2024. If we don’t expect “too much” from this team in 2025, we rightly anticipate success. If we don’t get it, we will be let down. But we’re getting what we need while everybody who isn’t yet sorted out figures out what’s what. That’s my expert baseball diagnosis at the moment; it’s almost as detailed as my medical opinion. I’d like to see more runs from the offense and less queasiness from the starter and feel less queasiness from the closer. But we get a Kranick here, a Senger there, the occasional something from somebody like Jose Siri, and when the lineup turns over and we inevitably count on our MegaMets to deliver, at least one or two tend to come through at some inflection point in a given game. All we have is a small sample size that shows we’re 6-3, but it’s big enough for now.
If the season ended today, we’d be in the playoffs. The season’s not ending today. That — along with David Peterson lying down to pacify his stomach with cool thoughts [9] — constitutes the most encouraging trend to take into the new week. We get to keep watching the Mets, and we get to have expectations.