This Mets team knows how to have fun, could turn out to be very special
Mets' Dominic Smith, left, and Starling Marte celebrate after a baseball game against the Philadelphia Phillies, Thursday, May 5, 2022, in Philadelphia. Credit: AP/Matt Slocum
When people talk about the Mets’ legacy, their history, they inevitably go back more than 35 years to that 1986 team. To the summer of Darryl Strawberry and Keith Hernandez, of Mookie Wilson dribbling that little roller toward first base, Ray Knight windmilling his arms in ecstasy as he crosses the plate in a play that would have been stunning had this not been the Mets, and had that season not felt destined.
But really, that’s been the case with most successful Mets teams. When things go bad, they’re disastrously bad — like losing a one-game wild-card lead after going winless in the final week of the 1998 season. But when they go right — even in years when they didn’t win it all — this franchise has a flair for the delightfully dramatic.
And though it’s way too early to deem this year’s crew a particularly historic one, it’s hard to argue that they don’t have elements of those great teams. Maybe not the 1986 squad, with its wild partying, in-house drama and absolute domination. But a little more like the 1999 and early 2000s teams — the ones made up of guys who seemed to mostly genuinely like each other, who peaked when they needed to, and who very much had a whole lot of fun giving their fans a very good time.
Sure, the players are different, but the sense of rollicking camaraderie seems similar.
There’s Max Scherzer getting ejected for arguing balls and strikes (not his, mind you; he wasn’t pitching — the balls and strikes were called against Dominic Smith). There’s Pete Alonso equating last week’s combined no-hitter to seeing “a white buffalo or a unicorn.” There’s the fact that they scored seven runs in the ninth inning Thursday to complete a whiplash-inducing comeback in an 8-7 win over the Phillies, each batter apparently feeding off the energy of the one before him. And there’s Buck Showalter holding court before and after every game, his words a dizzying amalgamation of metaphors, strategy and a little Southern folksiness — the resulting image casting him as some sort of baseball sage on the mount.
When you look at that, it’s hard not to see the shadows of the past — of Al Leiter barking from the mound, of a droll Robin Ventura walking into the clubhouse with shirts declaring “Mojo Risin’.” Thursday was a fitting echo of the Mets coming back against Atlanta in June 2000, erasing a seven-run deficit with a 10-run eighth — Mike Piazza hitting a go-ahead home run so hard that it went out before Gary Cohen barely had a chance to make the call.
And though Showalter isn’t Bobby Valentine, there are elements there — the old-school manager whose personality feels as much a part of the team’s tapestry as the logo stitched on his uniform. In an era when some managers can disappear behind calls from the analytics department and front office, Showalter is notable in that it feels as if he’s actually making big decisions out there (with the help of analytics and the front office — let’s not get too crazy here).
The result is a 19-9 record and players who appear comfortable being themselves. One player said this week that Showalter seems to see everyone on the roster and has a particular appreciation for guys who generally get overlooked — the implication being that those typically overlooked guys want to prove their manager has put his trust in the right place.
Does this mean this is a team of destiny? Of course not. That type of stuff doesn’t actually exist. Does it even mean that they’ll be good in August? To quote Showalter multiple times this season: “Men make plans and the baseball gods laugh.”
What it does mean is that they’re fun and that it’s OK to enjoy the ride for however long it lasts. And maybe, just maybe, this team has the potential to be special, too.
“This doesn’t happen every day,” Brandon Nimmo said after the comeback. “No-hitters don’t happen every day. Five-run ninth innings don’t happen every day. Seven-run ninth innings don’t happen every day.”
No, they don’t. But if the past is any indication, they might happen every 20 years or so.
Laura Albanese is a reporter, feature writer and columnist covering local professional sports teams; she began at Newsday in 2007 as an intern.
