Mets turn Atlanta House of Horrors into Fun House to claim NL wild-card berth

ATLANTA -- Any other year, any other Mets team, and you knew where Monday afternoon was headed at Truist Park.

For a while, there was the familiar heart-thumping elation, the giddy excitement, trying to let the belief tiptoe in -- ever so cautiously -- that this time would be different.

And then came the sledgehammer to the soul, as only that one particular loathsome NL rival could deliver it. After decades of torment, Atlanta had turned this pain-delivery system into an art form.

But that all ended Monday, for one reason that trumped all others: the 2024 Mets refused to allow it to happen again.

Oh, this wasn’t easy. Conquering your demons, at the franchise level, takes a village. And the Mets earned every inch of Monday’s 8-7 victory over Atlanta, spilled the sweat, showed the guts, willed themselves to being a solitary run better in what goes in the books as one of the most dramatic games every played by the franchise.

So many snapshots from the ledge, but it was Francisco Lindor -- who else? -- that helped carry his Mets across the finish line (on a sore back) by launching the decisive volley of a final two-inning stretch where both teams combined for 12 runs, the lead changing hands three times. After Edwin Diaz spit up a 6-3 lead in the eighth inning (more on that later), Lindor rode to the rescue, just as he has all season, smacking a two-run blast in the ninth that he knew was gone on contact.

The Mets have earned expert status in the spectacular turnaround this year, rallying from an 0-5 start to the season, then 11 games under .500 in early June to post the sport’s best record over the next four months. And yet they remained in a virtual three-way tie for one of the last wild-card spots on the final weekend, backs against the wall as they tumbled into Truist Park.

So why should Monday have been any different? How could we be surprised that they picked Game No. 161 -- the day after the regular season ended for everyone else -- to author their comeback masterpiece?

“It’s been an uphill fight,” Lindor said between games of the doubleheader. “We put ourselves in a big hole and we kept climbing. We kept our shoulders above water ... and never believed that we were drowning. I’ve said it since Day One -- I believe we have the team to do special things. Destiny was on us.”

What the Mets did all season long was special. Monday’s win took that to another level. Down 3-0 for seven innings, with only three singles, the Mets bulldozed Atlanta’s steely bullpen for six runs in the eighth, including Brandon Nimmo’s show-stopper, a two-run rocket that cleared the Chop House grill in rightfield. The normally reserved Nimmo went bonkers (for him) -- flashing a mischievous tongue toward the outfield rounding second -- and that figured to be the dagger.

Any other rivalry, maybe. But whenever the Mets take a business trip to Atlanta, it historically takes a turn to the Twilight Zone, and Monday stayed true to that script. The images of the Mets’ wild post-Nimmo celebration, the fist-pumping, the high-fiving, the maniacal screaming, were still fresh in their collective minds when Diaz promptly went to work with the mental eraser.

The trigger? Diaz would later admit that it was the simple negligence of him failing to cover first base on Pete Alonso’s dazzling diving stop of Jarred Kelenic’s grounder behind the bag that kicked the Mets’ closer into an emotional tailspin. Talk about your ex-Mets goblins -- Kelenic was part of the trade package for Diaz -- and a four-pitch walk to Michael Harris II then set up Ozzie Albies’ bases-clearing missile of a double.

It was a movie we’d seen many times before: Mets’ closer melts down on season’s biggest stage, and Diaz seemingly morphed right back into the same volatile reliever who lost his job in May. Couldn’t throw strikes, shoulders slumped, playoff berth slipping away.

But Lindor wouldn’t let it, and his ninth-inning Superman reprisal not only lifted the Mets once again, the home-run heroics inspired Diaz as well. If Lindor could rise up with an aching back, then Diaz could shrug off the self-doubt of that disastrous eighth inning. Seeing that ball clear the fence, Diaz told manager Carlos Mendoza that he wanted the ninth. No, he demanded it.

“I’m going back out, no matter what,” Diaz told Mendoza. “I don’t care what you say. Trust in me. I got this [expletive].”

Incredibly, Mendoza did. Diaz, by any measure, looked washed in that eighth inning. But the rookie manager, who’s had a knack for dispensing faith in the exact right spots, displayed how far that could go Monday afternoon. It was ride-or-die with Diaz, and you don’t get to be the 2024 Mets, to “keep climbing,” as Lindor said, unless you get over the fear of falling first.

So there was Diaz, on the mound for that ninth, using his 40th pitch of the afternoon to retire yet another Mets’ ghostie -- Travis d’Arnaud -- on a grounder to short that punched the Mets’ playoff ticket.

And turned Truist Park into a Mets’ backyard rager. Diaz spiked his glove as his teammates flooded the field. The champagne would have to wait until Game 2 was over, but the party already had started.

By David Lennon

dave.lennon@newsday.comDPLennon

David Lennon is an award-winning columnist, a voter for baseball's Hall of Fame and has covered six no-hitters, including two perfect games.