Who is Jake?

Friday brought the Mets into Washington for the first of a 4-game series and, well, if there was ever a time when it seemed like the Mets would go into Washington and get absolutely murdered, this would be it.

But that didn't happen. The Mets are totally neutered at this point, but Washington, who I have always felt to be kind of a paper tiger, doesn't look so great either. Take Bryce Hairdo out of that lineup and it seems a little more pedestrian. But I digress. I hate the Nationals so why the hell would I have anything nice to say about them ever?

With the backdrop of this partially amusing, partially embarrassing, mostly silly Player's Weekend thing going on, the Mets played the Nationals and actually won on Friday night, mostly because Jacob deGrom pitched like Jacob deGrom, even if he couldn't be bothered to come up with a more inventive nickname to put on his jersey than "Jake." "Jake" did what he needed to do, pitching into the 8th inning, striking out 10 batters, crossing 200 strikeouts for the season and allowing 1 run and 5 hits.

On the other side, A.J. Cole started for Washington and looked every bit like he was ready to hit the showers. He was walking guys and giving up hits, but the Mets kept letting him off the hook. They scored a run in the first and probably would have had more had Dominic Smith's single not hit the umpire and, subsequently, led to Yoenis Cespedes coming up lame once again with another hamstring injury. "La Potencia," of course, was done for the night right then and there and the way things are going I'd be surprised if we see him at all the rest of the season. And maybe the Mets should just wrap his legs in bubble wrap and tell him to keep off them for a month or so until everything heals up and he doesn't do this again next season. Because that's a problem.

So the Mets had 1 run when it felt like they should have had 4 or 5 off of Cole, but then they did plate two runs in the 8th, thanks to Rey Rey (playing Left in place of Cespedes) and Dominic Smith, and another in the 9th to ice away this Pyrrhic 4-2 victory. This season, even the good ends up being kind of ugly.

Comic Book Farce

In this late part of the Summer, my co-workers (all two of them) have been in the office sporadically for one reason or another. I of course had taken my vacation earlier in the Summer, and as a result I've had several days where I've been in the office by myself. I have passed these days by harkening back to my old days and putting on the radio for a little while. It had been some time since I'd heard Mike Francesa, but Thursday was the first time that the Mets had a game on a day where I was in the office by myself. I didn't have a physical radio, but I did have a computer and an MLB.com subscription, so I was able to listen along with Howie and Josh while I worked.

I was, much like I did in the old days, listening with half an ear until about the 4th or 5th inning when I heard Michael Conforto batting and Howie say something like "And Conforto goes down!" and then, of course, my first thought was "Now What!?" Of course it wasn't good, and it looks as though Conforto has separated his shoulder and I'd assume this is the last we've seen of him for 2017. I assume. I'd like to hope otherwise. But doesn't it figure that the guy who's been one of the few legitimate bright spots for the Mets would g

In this late part of the Summer, my co-workers (all two of them) have been in the office sporadically for one reason or another. I of course had taken my vacation earlier in the Summer, and as a result I've had several days where I've been in the office by myself. I have passed these days by harkening back to my old days and putting on the radio for a little while. It had been some time since I'd heard Mike Francesa, but Thursday was the first time that the Mets had a game on a day where I was in the office by myself. I didn't have a physical radio, but I did have a computer and an MLB.com subscription, so I was able to listen along with Howie and Josh while I worked.

I was, much like I did in the old days, listening with half an ear until about the 4th or 5th inning when I heard Michael Conforto batting and Howie say something like "And Conforto goes down!" and then, of course, my first thought was "Now What!?" Of course it wasn't good, and it looks as though Conforto has separated his shoulder and I'd assume this is the last we've seen of him for 2017. I assume. I'd like to hope otherwise. But doesn't it figure that the guy who's been one of the few legitimate bright spots for the Mets would go down doing something as benign as SWINGING A BAT? It's just indicative of the farce this season has become. It's no longer 2001 or 2013 where everyone is sluggish and the team never got going. This is turning into 2009 where its not enough that everyone gets hurt, but people are now getting hurt in ridiculous ways. I at least give the Mets management some degree of credit for throwing in the towel and trying to build forward instead of trying to kid us into thinking this season was salvageable, which it's not. But what is next year going to be? That's what I find worrisome because 2009 happened and you figured. oh, it'll be OK, the injured guys will come back and 2010 will be better! and instead 2010 stunk just as bad.

Sigh. After all that, who really gave a shit about the game? The Mets lost anyway.

o down doing something as benign as SWINGING A BAT? It's just indicative of the farce this season has become. It's no longer 2001 or 2013 where everyone is sluggish and the team never got going. This is turning into 2009 where its not enough that everyone gets hurt, but people are now getting hurt in ridiculous ways. I at least give the Mets management some degree of credit for throwing in the towel and trying to build forward instead of trying to kid us into thinking this season was salvageable, which it's not. But what is next year going to be? That's what I find worrisome because 2009 happened and you figured. oh, it'll be OK, the injured guys will come back and 2010 will be better! and instead 2010 stunk just as bad.

Sigh. After all that, who really gave a shit about the game? The Mets lost anyway.

Celebratory Mood

After sitting through Monday's mess of a game I was right back at Citi Field on Wednesday for another Mets/Diamondbacks tilt. Of greater import on this night at least, was the fact that it was the 30th Anniversary of my first Mets game, way back on August 23rd, 1987, as 8-year old me attended a 9-2 Mets victory over the Padres in what was the first of what has now become 416 regular season Mets games. These 416 (plus another 12 in the Postseason) have been more good than bad, even in some of the leanest of years. Even this season, which has been a slog and has seen the Mets struggle mightily at home, I sat at 8-7 for the year, which increased to 9-7 after the Mets celebrated my anniversary with a 4-2 victory.

Chris Flexen was on the mound for the Mets and the last time I saw him things worked out pretty well. It was more of the same on Wednesday. Flexen didn't exactly light anyone on fire, but he also didn't get lit up himself. He allowed a run in the first and a run in the 6th, and in between allowed few hits and no runs otherwise, got bailed out by some solid defense (particularly Juan Lagares, who gunned down a runner at home in the 5th), and finished after 6 innings leading 3-2. This was because Brandon Nimmo, one of those young guys essentially auditioning for a future role, kept getting on base by any means necessary (usually walking), and Michael Conforto, who is also auditioning, but for the more prestigious role of All Star and Batting Champion twice drove him home. Amed Rosario, auditioning for the role of Jose Reyes, also drove in a run.

It was 3-2 in the 6th when Dominic Smith led off against Jake Barrett (who once was a closer and now finds himself journeyman) and hit a Home Run to right. This was the bit of Anniversary verisimilitude I found myself looking for. On August 23, 1987, as I mentioned, the Mets won, 9-2. All I wanted to see that day was for Dwight Gooden to pitch well, Darryl Strawberry to hit a Home Run, and the Mets to win, and I got all 3. On August 23, 2017, I was hopeful to see Chris Flexen pitch well, which isn't nearly as sure of a thing as '87 Gooden, and I wanted the Mets to win, and maybe someone would hit a Home Run. Fitting that it would be Smith, given that he shares Strawberry's initials and is a lefty hitter with some degree of power. I wouldn't go so far as to say that Smith is auditioning for the future role of Strawberry, but perhaps for the role of 1st Baseman with some degree of pop and a good glove is acceptable.

Mostly, though, I just wanted the Mets to win, which has been a tall order these days, but they did manage to do that. Ten years ago, I was at a Mets game on the 20th Anniversary of my first game, and it did not go well. This time, the Mets were in about as celebratory a mood as I was. Which is to say they at least did their best to commemorate the occasion.

Don't Feel Like It

Sometimes, the Mets play a game and you just don't feel like watching it. It's usually during a season like this that's become a total trainwreck and you end up starting Tommy Milone again because Steven Matz has come down with another season-ending injury and some warm body needs to toe the rubber. Milone, who was last seen literally getting bombed off the mound against the Anaheim Angels in May, returned and was not particularly better. By time I was even aware the game was going on I think it was 6-0 or at least it felt like 6-0.

The Mets right now are, on most nights, boring, which is even worse than being bad. You can only draw so much juice from Amed Rosario (who did Homer and triple), Dominic Smith and Michael Conforto because three guys do not a team make. There's other young guys around that are trying to distinguish themselves too, but when you mix in a useless stopgap veteran like Milone who's just going to bury the team before they get started, it sort of makes you forget that there's still some things worth paying attention to. Even in a blowout loss.

Mediocre Team Monday

I was back at Citi Field on Monday night for my 15th game of the season, but my first since it seems like the Mets had really thrown in the towel on the season. The Mets came into the game with a record of 54-68. 54-68 is one of those "benchmark" records for abject medoicrity, because that's the record the Mets had in 2001 before making a late charge that made their season look cosmetically better than it probably deserved to. While I don't see them running off a 28-12 finish, if there's ever a season where the Mets looked like a 54-68 team, this is it.

However, the Mets aren't drawing like a 54-68 team, as in spite of the fact that I was on a basically empty 7 train heading out to the game, there was still a reasonably healthy crowd for a Monday night against an Arizona Diamondbacks team that appeared to have shown up for the night's game while still in their pajamas. So you had all the fixings. An underachieving Mets team that looks like they've been sleeping through the season against a Diamondbacks team that literally looks like they're sleeping. And, unsurprisingly, I watched a 54-68 effort out of a 54-68 team that by the end of the evening sat at 54-69.

While the Mets collected plenty of hits against Taijuan Walker and a passel of relievers, they could manage none at moments where it really would have helped. Meanwhile, Robert Gsellman pitched admirably well and kept his baserunners to a minimum, but still found himself behind a run when J.D. Martinez singled home a run in the 4th inning. The Mets continued to get hits and strand runners until the 7th inning, when they loaded the bases with one out against Archie Bradley and his ferocious Relief Pitcher's beard. Yoenis Cespedes was up and finally picked up that key hit to drive home the tying run, and perhaps could have drove in the lead run were Asdrubal Cabrera a bit faster.

Having required 10 hits to score one run, the Mets then stopped hitting as both bullpens shot zeroes at each other through the 8th and again in the 9th. The game, in spite of being 1-1, was drifting and dragging along, well past 3 hours and to the point where I was running out of steam. My other half multiple times texted to see if I'd left yet. I hadn't, although by time the Mets went down in order against Jimmie Sherfy in the 9th (and, really, if there was a point in the game where you knew the Mets were screwed, it was when they couldn't manage a hit off of Jimmie Sherfy), I headed downstairs where I figured I'd watch for an inning and hope for a quick ending. Or maybe I figured that a quick ending was imminent when the Mets went to Erik Goeddel. Sometimes you have premonitions. Mediocre pitcher + Mediocre team = you get the picture. Goeddel played the part by walking the leadoff hitter, getting an out that advanced the runner, and then allowing a 2-run Home Run to A.J. Pollock, who himself has been perfectly mediocre.

In the 9th inning, I was sort of hoping that the Mets could get Michael Conforto to the plate because I have a fairly solid track record of him hitting Home Runs in games I've been to this season, but he didn't get to bat in the 9th. He did bat in the 10th, against Fernando Rodney, and he did hit a Home Run, but that only made the score 3-2, and there the score stayed and off into the night I went. A fitting end for a 54-68 kind of night.