Amid Doubts, a No-Doubter

That DJ Stewart home run in the sixth inning was a thing of beauty. Soaring on a friendly trajectory. Pulled, but easily fair. For all the times fans overreact to any ball in the air, the crowd occasionally gets one that makes its Pavlovian anticipation worthwhile.

Going, going…no doubt about it, it was gone. Stewart had hit a three-run homer up onto Carbonation Ridge, the Mets led the Cubs, 4-1, and if the relievers who followed Sean Reid-Foley — who’d followed five innings of Sean Manaea — could do their job, the rest of the way would be a breeze. One fine frame from Revelatory Reed Garrett, one perfecto from Adam Ottavino, and only a touch of eyewash splattered on Jorge Lopez confirmed Stewart as the main man of Tuesday night. The Mets won, 4-2. Stewart won another day of confidence from all who care about the Mets and, by extension, care about him.

“This is the big leagues,” was part of the slugger’s postgame summation. “You have to earn your opportunities every single day.” Those weren’t clichés being spouted by an athlete feigning humility. This guy is a Met in good standing because he has made himself one and keeps making himself one.

We care about DJ Stewart mainly because he occasionally hits home runs like the one he bopped off Adbert Alzolay. He hit them in a bulging bunch last August. This April, he spread four throughout the season’s first month. Evidence suggests he has a stroke built for Citi Field. Stewart’s sent nine balls rocketing out of what’s become his home park since arriving as a Met last July.

How much at home can a player with a big, shiny option sitting in his contractual status feel, though? DJ was the cult hero of the second half of a Met season for which there wasn’t much of a cult, roughly allegorical in 2023 to what Benny Agbayani was in 1999, except 1999 had stakes that piled as high as Shea’s Upper Deck, and by the time Stewart poured his version of Hawaiian Punch last year (the dude’s from Florida), it seemed to matter little what the Mets did or didn’t do. No way Stewart couldn’t have impressed his manager and general manager as the season wound down, but if Buck Showalter and Billy Eppler loomed as his champions, DJ could only hope they left nice notes on his behalf for Carlos Mendoza and David Stearns.

In 2024, Stewart might as well have been a blank slate to the new brain trust, and he was treated as such in Spring Training. Who are you and what are you to us? Stewart didn’t light up St. Lucie and barely made the team, reminded on his way north that it might be a short-term arrangement. Had J.D. Martinez been healthy, chances are it would have been reintroduced to Syracuse.

When the Mets opened their 2000 season in Japan, Agbayani had about as much rope available to him as Stewart did 24 years later. The roster was in flux, and what Benny did the year prior to the century’s turn was history. “After being a major contributor to the team the year before,” he wrote with Shayne Fujii in Big League Survivor, “it wasn’t much fun being the forgotten man on the bench.” He could come along to Tokyo, but it didn’t mean he should plan to stay at Shea. Even in those days, minor league options like the one attached to Agbayani gave general managers a rush of adrenaline. Still, as the Mets battled the Cubs approximately a million time zones from New York, Benny whacked a decisive extra-inning pinch-hit grand slam and began to cement his status as someone who looked better in a Mets rather than a Tides uniform. Injuries to a couple of teammates didn’t hurt Agbayani’s cause, either. Players considered on the fringe will take all the breaks they can get. Benny and the Mets stayed together for all of 2000, right through the World Series.

It’s only May, but Stewart is still here, and at least once, he’s been the undisputed star of a game. Roots get put down slowly until, suddenly, you’re part of the team permanently, or as permanently as an option will allow. Hitting has a lot to do with permanence.

Listening to DJ answer reporters’ questions Tuesday night, two of his responses caught my attention. One was that he said he holds himself to a high standard, “higher than a lot of people”. I don’t think he meant the standards he holds himself to are higher than those an Alonso or a Lindor have set for themselves. Rather, he doesn’t perceive many expect much out of a Stewart. Good for him exceeding such expectations.

The other answer encompassed a retracing of his steps since being told he couldn’t be guaranteed as permanent a role as would have liked. After acknowledging that J.D. Martinez makes the team “way better,” he added, “but I think I can do that as well in the situations and times I get opportunities,” and elaborated that it had been “very difficult just not knowing” where he and his loved ones were going to be spending their summer. “That’s the biggest thing, obviously.” If he was “frustrated,” it was from “wanting to know where my family’s going to be”.

Last season, amid his home run tear, DJ identified his daughter as a motivation for keeping him swinging through callups and send-downs: “I have a little girl, and diapers aren’t cheap.” He laughed when he said it, but it was a reminder, just as what he said Tuesday night was, that ballplayers are people, too, especially ballplayers who live their lives on the edge of the transactions column. If DJ Stewart isn’t hitting home runs for the New York Mets, I’m not as invested in his everyday problems and his internal struggles. But here he is, going deep now and then, and sounding like somebody I’m glad to know is getting something out of hanging in there.

A new episode of National League Town is out now.