Brandon Nimmo issues call, and Mets fans help by responding
Mets fans attending a game against the Philadelphia Phillies at Citi Field on Thursday. Credit: Noah K. Murray
Brandon Nimmo’s impassioned plea rattled through Citi Field after their sweep of the Nationals Wednesday night — his voice rising and urgent in a way we don’t usually see from a player better known for his corn-fed ‘aw, shucks’ demeanor.
“This is going to be playoff baseball and Mets fans, we need you guys to fill this place up,” he said during his on-field interview, turning toward the stands as the remnants of 34,196 cheered. “This place needs to be rocking on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. We need your help. We need everybody to get out here. We need this place full. This is playoff baseball. This is what you guys want. Let’s go. Let’s go Mets.”
And on Thursday, during what might be the beginning of the most important series of the regular season, those fans showed up and showed out for Nimmo. Plenty were in their seats by first pitch, acting as if every out from a Phillies bat was its own victory. It felt like a party. It sounded like Shea.
Bryce Harper up to bat? Boo him like he insulted your mother. Pete Alonso hits a moonshot? Elect him for mayor. By the time the lights dimmed — signal that a battered Taijuan Walker was being taken out of the game — the crowd was taunting, giddy, and provided their own sort of light show, peppering the darkened stands with waving cell phone flashlights, like an incoming meteor ready to cream reliever Jose Ruiz.
By the time they took home the 10-6 win, the 35,982 in attendance were chanting unprintable things about the Phillies in the stairwells.
“I’m doubling down (on Nimmo) — come on, guys, come help create that environment we love to play in,” Alonso said. “We need that, and . . . it’s infectious.”
All of it showed that Nimmo had impetus for his earlier imploration.
Monday night, the Mets drew 21,694 fans — their 10th smallest crowd of the year and their fourth-smallest outside of April, and attendance at Citi is down overall. Now, compared to the whimsy of Citi Field, with its purple Grimace seat and pop-star second baseman, Citizens Bank Park is a hellscape for opposing teams. With four games against their division rivals here, and potentially more in October, Nimmo no doubt wanted to remind the City of Brotherly Jeering that New Yorkers can give as good as they get. Alonso did, too.
“The more we’re creating a hostile environment for the road team, I think that just helps us play better,” Alonso said.
But Nimmo and Alonso, who’ve been here their entire careers, know the first tenet of playing in New York: Never take on the fans; the fans always win. Which is why they didn’t chastise. He didn’t try to spend people’s hard-earned money for them. They asked politely, if fervently. Baseball games are expensive, and so is parking. People have school and work. There are good reasons not to come to Citi Field.
Now, I’m not dumb enough to tell fans how to spend their hard-earned money, either. But there’s also substance to Alonso’s assertion that home-field advantage is a real thing, and this Mets team needs that this weekend more than ever.
The Mets are two games ahead of Atlanta for the final wild card spot, and tied with the Diamondbacks for the second spot, though they own the tiebreaker. They end the season on the road — against Atlanta, which expects to get Ozzie Albies back from the injured list Friday, and the Brewers, who have already clinched their division.
For four days, and potentially a road-heavy World Series push beyond that, the crowd here has a chance to make an impact. This is, after all, the fanbase that threw batteries at John Rocker (don’t do that, everyone) and made the name “Larry” sound like the vilest sort of insult. Mets fans — a subsection of baseball lovers that is equal parts misery and hope — have it in them to be the 29th man on the roster.
“When Citi’s a vibe, it’s a fun place to play,” Alonso said.
And that feels especially pertinent during a season that feels like it was built on vibes.
Obviously, that’s a massive oversimplification of the excellent job Carlos Mendoza has done in his rookie year as manager, the rotation that stepped up without its ace, the MVP-caliber season from Francisco Lindor, and the bench players and bit pieces that helped drag this club out of the muck of a disastrous May.
But like all truly good Mets teams of the past, they feel fun. It helps that they’re likable. They have OMG and an Olympic speed-skating infielder and Grimace. And all of this is buoyed by the fact that no one really saw any of this coming this offseason, when 2024 was billed as a bridge year to true contention. It’s as if David Stearns filled the roster with personality hires who happened to be surprisingly good at baseball.
The side-plots make the season feel special. A packed-out stadium filled with long-suffering but passionate fans can make it feel magical.
“It’s all hands on deck,” Mendoza said before Thursday’s game.
He meant the players, of course, but for the next few days — and possibly few weeks — it’ll mean Mets fans, too.
Laura Albanese is a reporter, feature writer and columnist covering local professional sports teams; she began at Newsday in 2007 as an intern.
