Word on the Street is that The Mets Season is Over

The Mets season is over. Did you hear about this one? I’m sure you have. From Clifton to Jamesport, people have been squawking about it. They played like a bunch of bums for a short period of time, so the season is over. It’s admittedly a crazy feat. Usually, a baseball season lasts 162 games, but the Mets barely played 37 and called it a year. I’m honestly surprised that commissioner Manfred allowed it to happen, but I suppose shorter seasons might attract more fans. Meanwhile, the other 29 teams will continue to play, win or lose, until the end of September. But not the Mets. Nope. They’re done-zo. 

 

The season came to a screeching halt on Saturday night. Braves ace, Max Fried, was just about to finish a masterpiece. In fact, he was one out away from pitching a no-hitter. Suddenly, a white flag was waved. Tens of thousands of people turned off their TV in unison and for a fleeting moment, ESPN stopped their 24/7/365 NFL coverage to announce that the 2024 Mets are done playing baseball. Everyone shrugged and went home. Max Fried was technically credited with the no-hitter, but with an asterisk. Never in the history of baseball has a no-hitter been shortened due to a season ending. But I guess there’s a first for everything. 

 

Try as we might to imagine it, there will be no more Mets baseball this year. Which is a shame, because JD Martinez was about to go up to bat. I have no tangible reason to believe this, but I think he would’ve broken up the no-hitter. In fact, he probably would’ve hit a home run, his first one as a Met. Wouldn’t that have been cool? To have JD Martinez hit his first home run in such a fashion? That would be the perfect way for him to officially arrive in Queens. But I guess it’s back to Florida for him. Because the Mets season is over. 

 

I was totally planning on going to the game on Tuesday. So were 30,046 other people, which seems like a staggering amount for a Tuesday afternoon game. I would’ve been shocked to see all the lines at the concession stands, the traffic getting out of the stadium and the color coordinated kids taking up their own sections. I would’ve gotten popcorn with a really good butter to salt ratio. The weather would’ve been overcast and perfect. That would’ve been a really nice day at the ballpark. But instead, I stayed home and watched paint dry on the wall because the Mets season is over.

 

I really thought Pete Alonso was about to find his stride. He was close to learning that barrels are sexy and home runs are passé. I bet he would’ve hit over .300 this week and only strike out twice. He was just about to get better, I could feel it. Now that the season is over, he goes into an extended free agency period with not much to show for it. It’s going to be very difficult to land a juicy contract when you have less than 140 at bats and poor stats to show for it. 

 

Brandon Nimmo never got a chance to be a hero. Mother’s Day is a holiday that he holds dear to his heart, especially when he’s so far away from his family. Wyoming might as well be in another country for all intents and purposes. He wanted nothing more than to hit a home run for his mom and even said so himself. But then again, if the Mets season didn’t end the night before, he was still slated to be benched that day. Wouldn’t have been easy to hit a home run while sitting. But maybe, just maybe, it would be the bottom of the ninth. Maybe the Mets would’ve been down by one, with Jeff McNeil at first base. Maybe they would’ve called for Brandon to pinch hit. I have reasons to believe that on a 3-2 count, Brandon Nimmo would’ve sent the ball far over the center field fence. If given the chance, he would’ve jubilantly rounded the bases and met all of his teammates at home plate to celebrate. He could’ve had the best moment of his career and most of all, have it be dedicated to his Mother. It would’ve been a more wholesome version of Nolan Arenado walking off on Father’s Day with blood all over his face. It would’ve been a highlight of the season. But unfortunately, said season is already over. 

 

Ending the season early isn’t all bad. In fact, I even got to make dinner at a reasonable hour on Thursday. Because the Mets season is over, my lovely wife got the day off. She didn’t have to work in Secaucus while Harrison Bader came off the bench to go 2 for 2, including a game-tying single. It wasn’t an 11 inning nail-biter that had Jake Diekman come in clutch to slam the door because the game never happened. The lack of Mets baseball meant that I didn’t have to cook risotto at midnight. I think that’s a pretty good silver lining. 

 

The doors of Citi Field are locked. They’re already preparing to turn it into a soccer stadium for the time being. Everyone has been laid off, wondering what they’re going to do all summer. All of the bobblehead giveaways will be distributed to season ticket holders and beneficiaries of one of Steve Cohen’s charities. The unused fireworks will be sent to various Brooklyn neighborhoods so they can reenact the summer of 2020. All other giveaways will be ceremoniously burned in the Marina East parking lot, improving the smell of the bay. The doom and gloom is real and now every dejected New York sports fan can have 3 bonus months to complain about the Jets and Giants. Frankly, I hope they’re happy. They’re the ones that spoke it into existence. 

 

If the season wasn’t over, I’d reckon that the Mets would currently be an acceptable 20-23. They were scheduled to travel to Miami this weekend, followed by a trip to play against the surprisingly dominant Cleveland Guardians. Because that’s not actually going to happen, I plan on playing those games on MLB The Show on rookie difficulty and sliders jacked all the way. I’ll be back next week to report on the Mets scoring 69 runs in every game and other realistic statistics. Because the word on the street is that the Mets season is over.