Atlanta crunch time

Can you remember the last time the Mets lost a game this year and Mets fans didn’t come away from that loss feeling as though the proverbial roof fell in on both again? Well, perhaps you can. From among several.

Maybe 23 June in Chicago. When beleaguered manager Mickey Callaway let a less than well armed Seth Lugo work a second inning’s relief, which let Javier Baez on 0-2 hit a three-run homer that proved the game loser.

And, when both Callaway and then-Mets pitcher Jason Vargas started a war with a Newsday reporter doing what only every damn reporter in the clubhouse did: ask why Callaway let Lugo go to work for a second inning when he’d been run to back-to-back full counts and needed a double play to bail him out in the first inning’s work.

Maybe 26-27 June. Back-to-back walkoff losses to the Phillies. The first courtesy of erstwhile Met Jay Bruce doubling home the game-winner in the bottom of the tenth; the second, which really hit where it hurt, courtesy of two homers in the bottom of the ninth, including Jean Segura’s three-run winning shot—after the Mets took a lead in the top of the inning with a two-run homer and a run-scoring ground out.

Maybe even 18-21 July, when they could win only one of four against the Giants, and all three losses were walkoffs. And, at those times, the Phillies were still factors in the National League East race while the Giants still looked as though they’d yanked themselves back from the dead and into the NL wild card hunt.

The Giants polished them off after they’d taken two of three from the Marlins and swept a pair from the then-American League Central-leading Twins. But then the Mets got even crazier: they took two of three from the Padres, swept the Pirates and the White Sox back-to-back, took two of three more from the Pirates, swept four from the Marlins.

And everyone wondered whether these resurgent Mets were anything resembling the real deal. If you include the Giants going from a 19-6 July to a 4-7 August that may have sent them back out of the wild card run, the Mets hadn’t really beaten anyone significant until this weekend with the Nationals—holding second place in the NL East and the lead for the first NL wild card—coming to town.

Then the crazy Mets got downright insane. They beat the Nats at the last minute or next to last minute Friday and Saturday nights. Losing Sunday, leaving the Mets 21-7 in the second half so far and still baseball’s hottest team, didn’t send Mets fans looking to stick their heads into the nearest oven.

Maybe the most disheartened among either the Mets or the much-put-upon faithful was first baseman Pete Alonso, their Rookie of the Year candidate. “If I make that play,” he said after the 7-4 loss, “we’re probably still playing baseball. Tough pill to swallow.”

“That play” was on a bases-loaded, two-out grounder to first by former Met Asdrubal Cabrera, whose bases-loaded two-run double in the seventh broke a three-all tie and proved the game winner, in the top of the first. Instead of the third out it meant three unearned runs. And it wasn’t exactly Alonso’s entire fault.

He made a sharp snag of Cabrera’s sharp enough grounder. He threw to Mets starting pitcher Jacob deGrom running over to cover. Inexplicably, deGrom hesitated a step. By the time he reached the pad the ball flew just past his outstretched glove. Alonso was charged with a throwing error but the charge probably should have gone to deGrom for that inexplicable hesitation.

Then it went from crazy to rubber room time. As two Nats scored on the error, deGrom ran the ball down in foul ground toward the Mets’ on-deck circle. With Juan Soto trying to score a third unearned run, deGrom threw home and Soto was a dead duck. Except that Mets catcher Wilson Ramos dropped the ball as he was turning to tag Soto, who should have been out by two and a half feet on the play.

Instead, the game opened with the Mets in a 3-0 hole. DeGrom steadied from there, keeping the Nats scoreless, though the Nats did their best to keep running up his pitch count to get him out after five innings. But a 6-1 homestand including two of three from the almost-equally-resurgent Nats—like the Mets all but left for dead in May and June—is nothing to mourn.

Especially when your next opponent will be the Braves, in their playpen, starting Tuesday night, after a weekend in which they split a four-game set with the Marlins. Leaving the NL East leaders a mere 16-13 in the second half so far and 6-5 for August.

The Braves’ newly retooled bullpen isn’t as sharp as advertised. Shane Greene has gone from lights out in Detroit to lights flickering with the Braves. Mark Melancon had four consecutive solid assignments as a new Brave until Saturday night.

Handed a four-run lead to protect in the ninth, Melancon opened with a strikeout before surrendering four straight Marlins singles including one with the bases loaded. Snitker lifted Melancon and brought in Greene, and Greene promptly surrendered another RBI single and a two-run double, sending the game to extra innings. Where Sean Newcomb surrendered a game-losing sacrifice fly.

And on Sunday, a 5-4 win to gain the series split still felt almost like a loss. Neither team scored since the bottom of the sixth, but in the ninth Luke Jackson, the Atlanta reliever whose name lately strikes fear into the hearts of his own team’s fans, performed a perfect impression of postseason Craig Kimbrel: single (and the fortune of throwing out Isan Diaz trying to stretch), ground out, single, deep infield single, and a long fly out.

Why must they always do it the hard way now? you could hear the Tomahawk Choppers moan.

The Mets don’t exactly have a steady bullpen themselves, of course. They may even have to throw in the towel at last and do something drastic with Edwin Diaz. His early season misusage has led to confusion between his ears and command issues on the mound. After he surrendered Victor Robles’s two-out two-run homer in the top of the eighth Sunday, he retired the side, but back in the dugout he looked as though he’d been told of a death in the family before he got there.

It may turn out to be his. Jim Bouton once described players being sent down to the minors as deaths in the family. (“I died tonight,” he wrote in Ball Four, after the Seattle Pilots sent him down to their Vancouver farm for a spell.) With Lugo now the arguable best reliever on staff, and likely to claim a formal closing job, the Mets may consider sending Diaz to AAA Syracuse to help him right himself.

On the threshold of meeting the Braves, the Mets can’t afford to wait for Diaz to regain his once-formidable command. And this week’s set with the Braves, even more than the weekend with the Nats, will show what the Mets are really made of. Especially, whether their young turks and the now-best rotation in the league, if not the game, can keep overcoming the dead weight of too many of their veterans.

But it may be a set in which the Braves have to prove once and for all what they’re really made of, too. Especially if it turns out to be a contest of whose bullpen is going to play with more matches.

The good news for the Braves: they don’t have to worry about facing deGrom or Noah Syndergaard this week. The good news for the Mets: They can still throw Zack Wheeler, Steven Matz, and then Marcus Stroman—coming off a splendid showdown against Stephen Strasburg Friday night—at the Braves, who counter with, in order, Max Fried, Dallas Keuchel, and Julio Teheran.

Fried has a winning record but he’s prone to inconsistencies now and then. Keuchel isn’t the pitcher he used to be anymore even if he eats innings and provides a veteran steadiness to the Braves’ staff; more and more, his Cy Young Award winning season resembles a fluke. Teheran’s faced the Mets three times this year with mixed results: one earned run surrendered 14 April, six surrendered 18 June, two surrendered 29 June—the third when he threw 50 pitches in three and a third before rain delayed the game an hour and ten minutes.

Wheeler’s gone from trade deadline speculation subject to something resembling his better self since. Matz has begun trusting his breaking, off-speed stuff a lot more and become a formidable foe once again. And Stroman, thought an inexplicable trade deadline period acquisition, is now invaluable to the Mets.

After this set, the Mets get one of their absolute few breathers the rest of the way when they spent next weekend in Kansas City. The Braves have the Dodgers to deal with next weekend. The Mets still want to prove they’re for real. The Braves still want to prove they’re the same team who had the kind of lights-out June that the Mets have had since the All-Star break.

Neither will be confirmed without a good, solid battle. And to think that, before the Nats hit New York for the weekend now done, Alonso thought, “We are now in crunch time.” He ain’t seen nothing yet.

Limits to crisis addiction

2019-08-11 SeanDoolittle

This time, Sean Doolittle wasn’t at the mercy of his 2019 nemeses, the Mets.

Seek the clinical definition of “crisis junkie,” and you shouldn’t be surprised to find that the definition includes, “New York Mets.” As white hot as they’ve been since the All-Star break, the Mets have not been in complete recovery from crisis addiction.

Every crisis junkie believes it’ll take just one turn of luck, the cards, or both to escape his or her latest crisis. On Sunday afternoon, down three going to the bottom of the ninth, the Mets had more than enough reason to believe theirs was coming in from the Nats bullpen. Sean Doolittle.

Doolittle—whom they’d battered for four runs to win at the last minute Friday night and bullied otherwise all season long. With the top of the order due up for the Mets and the Citi Field crowd giving Doolittle a standing ovation as he arrived on the mound.

Doolittle—who got Jeff McNeil to line out hard to right, struck out Amed Rosario swinging, and got Michael Conforto to ground out into a right-side shift. Crowning a scoreless two-and-a-thirds relief job by Doolittle plus Daniel Hudson and Wander Suero before him.

If it was a monkey off Doolittle’s back after his season-long futility against the Mets, the Nats could still be forgiven if they felt that even this 7-4 win, snapping the Mets’ eight-game winning streak, didn’t necessarily feel like a win.

Even if the Mets spotted the Nats three unearned runs in the top of the first, on a throwing error to first and a dropped ball at the plate that would have kept Juan Soto from scoring that third run: Mets catcher Wilson Ramos had him cold by several feet before the ball fell from his mitt.

Because the Mets broke their weekend habit of fourth-inning ties by tying it at three in the bottom of the second—on a pair of one-out singles, a two-out RBI single, a sneak-attack, bases-loading, two-out bunt by Mets starting pitcher Jacob deGrom, and a two-run double. By then the Nats must asked, if they hadn’t the previous two nights, “What the hell do we have to do to put these pests away?”

They may not be the only team in the league tempted to keep cases of Raid in the dugout or pest control crews on call when they face the Mets.

For their part, the Mets may not quite be ready to send themselves to a twelve-step program for crisis addiction. Because if that’s what’s keeping them white hot and helping them prove they can hang with the big boys—even those addled otherwise by the injured list and by self-immolating bullpens, just as the Mets were earlier in the season—they’ll work with it.

The twelve steps could wait until the season was over or the Mets fell out back out of the races. Whichever came first. Couldn’t they?

“It’s magic!” crows a Met fan of my acquaintance. He’s probably echoed by a few million Met fans who prefer seeking extraterrestrial causes for both the heights of success and the depths of failure. You’d think they couldn’t bear to admit that playing heads-up baseball when the Mets needed to play it the most had anything to do with their post-All Star break success.

Let the Nats pull back ahead 5-3 in the seventh on a two-out, two-run double by Asdrubal Cabrera that followed a little shakiness out of the Mets’ bullpen? The Mets weren’t going to let that stand without an answer if they could help it. Conforto’s seventh-inning sacrifice fly off Nats reliever Hunter Strickland said as much.

But for a brief moment it looked as though the Nats were going to pay the price for their manager’s unconscionable brain freeze right after that. How could Dave Martinez not have challenged Pete Alonso being ruled hit by a pitch when the pitch hit the batter, not the ball, with every television replay available showing as much?

A called strikeout later, ex-Nat Wilson Ramos drilled a frozen rope right into Gerardo Parra’s glove in left to strand two Met runners and make Martinez look like a genius for a few moments. Better not to let Alonso have another swing with two aboard. Except J.D. Davis loomed and could crunch one. Strickland nailed Davis with a called strikeout before the Ramos line out. That’s called dodging the atomic bomb.

Unfortunately for the Mets, the net result is also called wasting yet another stellar deGrom start. He shook off the three unearned in the first to all but have his way with the Nats, but that first inning drained him enough that he wasn’t likely to pitch more than five innings. All odds favoured even the Mets’ shaky bullpen against the Nats’ shakier pen.

Until Jeurys Familia—once the Mets’ closer, this year a prodigal son having a horror of a season—found his old self at just the right hour to strike out the side in the top of the eighth. And Wander Suero sandwiched a grounder back to the box between two strikeouts in the bottom of the eighth.

Then Doolittle was up and throwing in the Nats bullpen and the Mets could just taste the gift coming. In a way, that was part of their problem Sunday. They looked as though they were trying to hit six-run homers in about half their plate appearances. They looked as if they wanted to get to the win without navigating the traffic on the way all day long.

Didn’t quite work out that way. Now, before they got another crack at Doolittle they had to get past the Nats in the top of the ninth. And they trusted Edwin Diaz, command struggles and all and with almost a full week’s rest in the bargain, to perform that assignment. With the dangerous top of the Nats order to greet him.

Diaz shook off a one-out walk to Adam Eaton and didn’t let Eaton stealing second stop him from catching Anthony Rendon, having a four-hit day to that point, looking at strike three. But up stepped Victor Robles, a late-game insertion to center field, after Parra was moved to left following Juan Soto’s ankle turn on a seventh-inning baserunning out, after ex-Met Asdrubal Cabrera doubled home a pair to break the three-all tie in the first place.

On 2-1 Diaz hung a slider to Robles. And Robles hung it over the left field fence. And after Matt Adams grounded out to second for the side, Diaz walked into the dugout looking as though he’d been told his favourite pet was kidnapped and left for dead. Pitching coach Phil Regan spoke gently to him and hugged him, like a father comforting a heartbroken son.

And this time Doolittle stood up well enough to his season-long bullies.

Yet considering their Friday and Saturday night surrealistics, Sunday afternoon’s loss probably didn’t feel like a loss to the whole of the Mets, either.

With apologies to Vin Scully, in a second half that has been so improbable, the impossible happened. Friday night the Nats put a boot on the Mets’ throat in the top of the ninth, and the Mets yanked it away in the bottom of the ninth. Also known as the last minute. On Saturday night, the Mets had to settle for the Nats putting the edge of a shoe against their neck and bumping it to one side in the eighth. Also known as the next-to-last minute.

Friday night the Mets overthrew two three-run deficits and Strasburg becoming the Nats’ all-time franchise strikeout leader to win. Saturday night they overthrew a two-run deficit in the fourth and a one-run deficit in the eighth to win. They’d tied against Strasburg and Patrick Corbin alike. When it came time for the running of the bullpens, the Mets ended up looking a little less like bull.

And on both nights Citi Field rocked and rolled as if this was a postseason series. It didn’t escape the Nats’ eyes and ears, either. Strasburg’s in particular.

“They pull for their team,” the righthander said, calmly but firmly, after Friday night’s shock. “And I don’t know if they come play us again, but I hope all the fans are watching the game cause it gets into crunch time and those things really carry teams and get us to the next level.”

Actually, the Mets are scheduled for one more trip to Washington, down the stretch, a 2-4 September set to end the season series between the two teams. If this weekend doesn’t make or break either the Mets’ or the Nats’ seasons, by the time that Monday-Wednesday meeting comes to pass either team could be looking closer at a wild card slot or an early winter vacation.

Theoretically, both teams could also be nipping at the heels of the National League East-leading Braves by then, too. If not sooner. The Braves are a .500 team for August so far, and after winning four straight after the All-Star break they’re 12-13 since. They’re no longer a necessarily impossible target.

But the Mets since the All-Star break restored reasons for the throngs to rock their ballpark. The Nats had a 5-6 homestand before their current road trip, but if Strasburg was calling out Nats Nation to give the team a little more in the way of the Mets’ current kind of crowd incentive, since they’re not quite dead and in the coffin just yet, Nats Nation would be wise to heed.

Even taking two of three from the Nats stands the Mets well with a trip to Atlanta looming. A Mets win Sunday would probably have made them feel invincible no matter where they traveled afterward. Ending the day at 21-7 since the All-Star break still leaves them baseball’s hottest team since that break.

A Nats loss Sunday—compounded by Max Scherzer’s continuing absence, the continuing rehabs of both Ryan Zimmerman and Howie Kendrick, and the likelihood that pending free agent Rendon may be playing his last weeks in Nats fatigues—might have made them feel as though the string to be played out was closer to resembling the clothesline from which they’d hang to dry.

The Nats have a slightly more balanced schedule the rest of the season. Starting with a weekday set against the Reds at home, they get to mix sets against the flotsam and jetsam with sets against the big boys. The Mets should be so lucky. Theirs isn’t that well balanced a schedule the rest of the season. They might have felt charmed Friday and Saturday, but Sunday should have re-grounded them enough.

Enough to remind them that crisis addiction isn’t always the way to stay in a wild card race after you’ve returned from the living dead to get back into one. Especially with bigger enough fish than the Nats swimming into the waters in which they’re about to bathe the rest of the season.

Walk through the door of your friendly neighbourhood Crisis Anonymous. Say it loud and humble. “Hi, we’re the Mets. And we’re crisis junkies.” Step one. Take it ASAP.

The Mets simplify the hard way

2019-08-10 LuisGuillorme

Luis Guillorme defied his unimpressive rookie slash line to help stun the Nats Saturday night . . .

In ancient times Casey Stengel would see ancient Satchel Paige warming up in the enemy bullpen and exhort his Yankees, “Get your runs now—Father Time is coming.” This weekend, the Nationals’ mantra could be, “Get your runs A.S.A.P. Father Time’s predictable compared to these Mets.”

But the Nats don’t really want to know from Father Time, who may be coming sooner than they’d care to know.

Not when they followed a last-minute 7-6 loss Friday night with a 4-3 loss in the next-to-last minute Saturday night. It wasn’t quite the cardiac arrest Friday night was, but it was still enough to tempt them to think of keeping crash carts on call.

Perhaps deploying one out of their bullpen. And another to their manager’s office.

Dave Martinez just didn’t have the heart, or whatever else needed, to send Hunter Strickland—his new bullpen toy, but not even a topic Friday night—out for the eighth inning after Strickland manhandled the Mets in the seventh. But Strickland is two weeks removed from returning from a lat strain that kept him down four months, and Martinez didn’t want to overtax him. Even though he looked smooth enough Saturday night.

This time, his assigned closer Sean Doolittle wasn’t even a topic. Not after the Mets bastinadoed him for four runs in the ninth to win from three runs down Friday night. This Saturday night topic was now Fernando Rodney, the elder, whose previous comparative success against the Mets was two seasons behind and barely visible in the rear view mirror.

But there was Rodney and his trademark, CC Sabathia-like lopsided hat to start the New York eighth. And leading off was a Met rookie, Luis Guillorme, who brought all of a .156/.182/.188 slash line to the plate batting for center fielder Juan Lagares. It should have been meat for Rodney. Instead, he was dead meat.

On a full count, during the making of which Guillorme didn’t even wave his bat, and Rodney didn’t even hint toward throwing the changeup that was once his money pitch and was still reasonably effective, Rodney served Guillorme a meatball. And Guillorme provided the sauce. He sent his first major league home run clean over the right field fence to tie things at three.

Then late-game Mets second base insertion Joe Panik grounded one to short. Sure-handed, sure-footed Nats shortstop Trea Turner had it just as surely. But first baseman Matt Adams mishandled his uncharacteristic low throw, leaving Panik safe to move to second on a followup single lined up the pipe by Jeff McNeil for his first hit of the weekend.

Out came Rodney. In came Daniel Hudson, who’d worked a near-effortless eighth on Friday night. And, after Amed Rosario’s hard grounder pushed the runners to second and third, Pete Alonso checked in at the plate.

The Nats optimist said, we’ll have none of that nonsense this time around. That nonsense, of course, being Alonso drilling Stephen Strasburg for a two-run blast in the fourth Friday night.

The Nats realist said, pick your poison, Davey. Because putting Alonso on to load the pads meant facing J.D. Davis—who’d followed Alonso’s Friday night flog with his own game-tying solo jack in that same fourth. And, who hit one of two consecutive solo bombs in the Saturday night fourth, birthday boy (and former Nat) Wilson Ramos hitting the second of them to tie this game at two.

So Martinez picked Davis. The good news: this time, Davis didn’t reach the seats. The bad news: His fly to right was long and deep enough to send Panik home with what proved the winning run.

And if Martinez couldn’t bear to send Strickland out for a second inning’s work in the bottom of the eighth, Mets manager Mickey Callaway wasn’t as nervous as you might think about sending Seth Lugo out for a second inning’s work in the top of the ninth.

Lugo may have had command issues in the top of the eighth, magnified when Juan Soto hit his second homer of the night, a mammoth drive into the second deck in right, to put the Nats back ahead 3-2. But Callaway gambled that that was just Lugo getting really warmed up. He also wasn’t entirely sure about trusting Edwin Diaz, who’d warmed up during the eighth.

So Lugo, named the National League’s relief pitcher of the month for July, went out for the ninth. Noisy Citi Field and edgy Nats Nation, wherever they were, said their prayers accordingly.

But former Met Asdrubal Cabrera lined out to right.

And Victor Robles looked at strike three on the outer edge, on a night plate umpire Tripp Gibson gave Nats and Mets pitchers alike a very generous outer strike zone.

Then Gerardo Parra—maybe the Nats’ best pinch hitter and bench representative, entering the game with a .319 career batting average against the Mets—batted for Nats catcher Yan Gomes.

And, after Parra fouled off a 3-1 service, Lugo caught him looking at strike three.

All of a sudden, Soto’s two-run homer off Mets starter Noah Syndergaard in the top of the first seemed a small memory to plague Mets fans. Just the way Davis and Ramos’s fourth-inning destruction (setting a new Mets team record for consecutive multiple homer games) seemed to Nats Nation after Soto teed off in the top of the eighth.

Once again, the Mets found a way, any way,  past or around the Nats’ effective starting pitchers, in Saturday night’s case Patrick Corbin. Once again, the Mets got into a bullpen whose 10.10 ERA against them entering Saturday night meant giving them at least one definite victim against who they could fire whatever bullets happened to be handy.

And once again, the Nats couldn’t find a way to make anything stick, even on a night Syndergaard had to shake off an early explosion and some early inconsistency to keep them off the scoreboard further for the rest of his seven innings’ work. Not even on a night when Corbin was mostly his calmly effective self through six.

The Nats compelled the Mets to do things the hard way, late but their bullpen, retooling and all, showed it still had major kinks to un-kink. But the Mets didn’t exactly seem to object to doing things the hard way. It’s coming easier for them that way.

Now, it may not be a question of whether these still-somewhat-flawed Mets can hang with the big boys yet. But it may be a question as to whether these Nats will hang. With the big boys, or at the end of their own noose.

Be a little afraid, Nats Nation

2019-08-09 StephenStrasburg

Getting what they needed from Stephen Strasburg Friday night wasn’t enough for the Nationals in the end.

The Friday night loss by itself had a deep enough sting. Nationals manager Dave Martinez, without meaning to, delivered a deeper one to Nats fans post mortem. A sting that carried the venom of Nats collapses past.

Apparently, Martinez was asked the near-inevitable question—why did he stick with Sean Doolittle, after the third of three consecutive bottom of the ninth-opening Mets was a three-run homer re-tying the game at six each, courtesy of Mets third baseman Todd Frazier?

“He’s our closer; that’s what he does,” the manager said. “It was unfortunate, but come tomorrow, I’ll see how he feels, and he’ll be right back out there.”

Be a little afraid, Nats Nation.

Be a little afraid when the Nats—whose bullpen most of the year rivaled the Mets’ for arson charges—reshuffled the pen, added three new pieces at the trade deadline, then had none of them on standby at the first sign of trouble Friday night.

They got what they needed from Stephen Strasburg: seven strong enough innings, including three perfect to open, with Strasburg becoming the franchise’s career strikeout leader while he was at it. And it went for nothing in the end.

Be a little afraid with Doolittle once again at the mercy of the Mets, during a season in which Doolittle entered Friday night’s game having surrendered as many earned runs to the Mets (nine) as he’d surrendered to all his other opponents.

Be a little afraid when one of the Nats’ new bullpen toys, Roenis Elias, turned up with a hamstring tweak just over a week after they’d added him. And, after fellow new toy Daniel Hudson kept the Mets from mischief in the eighth, the third new bullpen toy, Hunter Strickland, wasn’t even a topic.

Be a little afraid when the only Nat bull on standby in the ninth was ancient lefthander Fernando Rodney, who’d actually been pitching well since 25 July, when he blew a save into a loss to the Rockies, going from there to work five games without surrendering a single run, earned or otherwise.

As a matter of fact, since becoming a Nat in early June, after the Athletics released him with a ghastly 9.42 ERA and 5.58 fielding-independent pitching rate, Rodney’s been as close to lights out as at any previous time in his long career: as a Nat, he has a 2.87 ERA and a 3.15 FIP.

But Doolittle is the official closer. And even though the Mets have rather bullied him all year long, Martinez wasn’t going to take his job away after re-claiming a three-run lead in the top of the ninth. Especially after the way they did it, catching Mets reliever Luis Avilan and catcher (and ex-Nat) Wilson Ramos half asleep on a wild pitch when they might have had a shot at bagging Trea Turner shooting home from third.

At that point the Mets looked as though they were going to waste a mostly brilliant start from their new toy Marcus Stroman in his Citi Field debut plus that staggering three-run-deficit closure in the fourth, off Strasburg, after Strasburg manhandled them perfectly through the first three.

So, after Hudson bridged from Strasburg effectively enough, shaking off a one-out double, Doolittle went to work in the bottom of the ninth. And J.D. Davis sent a 1-1 pitch to the back of left field for an opening double, right before their old buddy Ramos shot an 0-1 service like an arrow up the pipe for a single with Davis gunning it to third.

Up came Frazier, the Mets’ elder third baseman. Doolittle started him up and in with a four-seamer. Then, Frazier swung and missed on a four-seamer tailing away from the zone. Then, Doolittle missed high. Then, Doolittle threw something right down the pipe. And Frazier sent it sailing just fair past the left field foul pole and into the second deck.

Coming back from one three-run deficit is enough of a challenge. The Mets just did it twice in the same game, and the second threatened to send the game to extra innings. And Rodney, who’d been loosening up since the bottom of the eighth, still stood in the bullpen, waiting. For the call that never came.

The newest Met, Joe Panik, stepped up. He’d been signed earlier Friday, a few days after the Giants finally parted ways with their veteran second baseman, and after space-choking veteran second baseman Robinson Cano—who’d begun to hit of late but was still a slowed-down liability at second—went down for the count and maybe the season with a torn hamstring.

Wasn’t it true, Don Vito Corleone mused in The Godfather, the novel, that great misfortune sometimes led to unforeseen reward?

Panik isn’t much of a hitter anymore (his 2014-2015 seasons seem like flukes now) but he can still play second base with aplomb and smarts when he’s healthy. And the Mets now have enough hitting otherwise to be able to afford a guy who fits the mold of the old classic good field/barely hit middle infielder.

Now, Panik singled up the middle only to be thrown out on a followup bunt by Juan Lagares off left of the plate. Anthony Rendon, the Nats’ virtuoso third baseman and free agent-to-be, hustled in from third, speared the dead fish and, with Doolittle bending over in front of him, fired a perfect strike to Turner over from shortstop.

Then Jeff McNeil flied out to short right field. Yep. Going to go to extra innings, it looks like. Amed Rosario poked a base hit into left to set up first and second, and up came Michael Conforto, the Mets’ right fielder, a lefthanded swinger with formidable enough power but a sometimes maddening inconsistency at the plate.

Conforto was 1-for-4 on the night and had made the second out of the fourth before Pete Alonso and Davis cleared the fences back-to-back to tie things at three. Now, Doolittle fell behind 2-0 immediately. Conforto fouled off a pair immediately after that.

Time to start deciding who’s going to handle the extras out of both bullpens. The Mets hadn’t yet gone to either Seth Lugo, arguably their best relief pitcher of late; or, closer Edwin Diaz, whose talent couldn’t keep him from becoming an inconsistent mess much of the season, often through usage not entirely of his own making.

And for the Nats Rodney was warm and prepared, just in case. Except that, if the Nats got out of the ninth still alive and didn’t get to pry something out of either Lugo or Diaz in the top of the tenth, Alonso—the Rookie of the Year candidate, whose fourth-inning two-run blast sailed right over the heads of the Mets’ broadcast team stationed just behind the left field fence—would be the first Met to hit in the bottom.

Just in case never came. Doolittle tried coming inside, and Conforto drilled it on a high line just past Nats right fielder Adam Eaton and off the fence to send Lagares home. It took Doolittle only 26 pitches, getting only two swinging misses, to blow up a certain 6-3 win. When the Mets got aggressive Doolittle had no viable answer.

“I don’t have a lot of answers right now,” said Doolittle, the lefthander who has one of the most accommodating personalities in the game today, and who’s unapologetic about riding the “let the kids play”/”make baseball fun again” train. “I’m kind of searching, going over the inning in my head.”

The Mets were so jazzed by that second comeback and win that Stroman popped into the dugout from the clubhouse in nothing but his boxers and Conforto didn’t make it far past first before he was stripped of his jersey and given the Gatorade bucket ice shower topless.

“I absolutely love the way the guys played,” said Martinez to the Washington Post after the game. He had reason enough to love it. “We did everything right until the ninth inning. Just got to keep pounding. Like I told them before, ‘Hey, we come back tomorrow, we got 1-0, and move on’. ”

But he’s not dealing with pushovers in New York anymore. And the Mets’ post All-Star performance now has them nipping close to the second National League wild card. The Nats are a game and a half ahead of the pack for the first card; the Mets are only a game and a half back of them. This weekend is as close to D-Day as both teams can get so far.

If the Nats want to live through this weekend—especially with Noah Syndergaard looming Saturday against Patrick Corbin, Jacob deGrom against Anibal Sanchez Sunday, and these Mets in no mood to roll over and play dead the way they were once supposed to do—Martinez had better come up with a better bullpen plan.

Martinez needs Corbin and Sanchez to pin the Mets’ ears back if that can be done against these suddenly rampaging, suddenly rapacious, suddenly relentless Mets. If they could say thanks large, bud, to Strasburg for three perfect innings with a couple of game-tying, back-to-back bombs off him in the fourth, maybe no Nats starter is entirely safe.

Maybe not even Max Scherzer if he was healthy. And he isn’t. Scherzer cancelled a planned Friday bullpen session as a precaution while he continues trying to recover from back trouble that culminated in a rhomboid strain. A Strasburg conquest Friday night would have gone long to inflate the Nats’ New York morale.

Now even Corbin goes to work Saturday with the proverbial hand tied behind his back. And Corbin’s history against the Mets isn’t that encouraging, either: they’ve beaten him five times while he’s beaten them twice with five no-decisions and a 4.58 ERA against them in twelve lifetime starts.

Corbin and Sanchez might find ways to throttle the Mets, but there’s almost no way Martinez can keep running Doolittle out to face a team that treats him like a burglar caught dead to right trying to lift the jewels and the cash out of the safe.

The Mets have treated Strickland over his career like almost as much of a pinata as they have Doolittle this year. Strickland’s been battered for a .343 lifetime average against him by the Mets. Elias’s hamstring tweak came at a deadlier time than the Nats could have imagined. Rodney’s jacket against the Mets is only slightly more encouraging—they’ve only hit .259 against him for his career. Except that he hasn’t faced them since 2017. And those Mets aren’t these Mets. Not even close.

Both teams’ revivals removed their formerly embattled managers’ necks from the guillotine braces. But Friday night Martinez looked like the guy who was one tick from the blade dropping and Mets manager Mickey Callaway was made to look like the smart guy, if not necessarily a heretofore-undetected genius.

The Nats’ bullpen has been an improved product since May, but they’re not completely resurrected just yet, and they still have their vulnerabilities. The Mets bullpen, formerly virtuosi at incinerating games the Mets either led or looked like they’d have a clean shot at winning, has suddenly quit playing with matches most of the time. Most.

They said coming into the set that the Mets and us were about to find out what they’re  really made of, after they reheated to nuclear level after the All-Star break, mostly against the bottom crawlers. But it’s not unfair to say that the Nats and us may be about to find out what they’re really made of, too.

Life comes in threes for these Mets

2019-08-09 MichaelConforto

Michael Conforto, seconds from being stripped topless and bathed in Gatorade bucket ice, after his RBI finally beat the Nats Friday night in the ninth.

The question before the Citi Field house, and practically all of baseball Friday night, was whether the resurrected Mets—who’d done it mostly on the backs of the bottom crawlers—could hang with the big boys. Even if Friday night’s big boys out of Washington were picking themselves up by their own bootstraps after an almost-as-nightmarish first half.

The answer came in two parts.

Part one: a comeback from three down against Stephen Strasburg, the Nats’ best starting pitcher with Max Scherzer still in drydock over his bothersome back, in the bottom of the fourth. Part two: Another comeback from three runs down, and a game-winning RBI, off a Nats reliever the Mets turned into their personal pinata all season long.

Sean Doolittle against the rest of baseball in 2019: nine runs surrendered. Sean Doolittle against these Mets before he went to work in the bottom of the ninth: nine runs. The Mets as a team hit .385 against Doolittle in 2019 before Friday night, good for a ghastly 10.13 ERA for Doolittle against them.

The kid corps took care of business in the third. The old men took care of most of it in the ninth, including four straight inning-opening hits including a game re-tying three-run homer. Until Michael Conforto, all of a five-year young veteran, drove home old man Juan Lagares for a 7-6 win that was both the first for the Mets in a game they trailed after eight this and surrealistic even by the standards of this year’s surrealistic Mets.

Conforto barely rounded first when his celebrating teammates stripped him topless in celebration of the absolute first game-ending hit of his career. Then hit him with the Gatorade bucket ice shower. That’s how crazy this one went, right down to the proverbial wire. It didn’t exactly begin with things looking even reasonable for the Mets.

And it almost ended after an unreasonable lapse in the top of the ninth sent them three down for the second time. Apparently, the Mets didn’t get the memo saying they were supposed to tuck their tails between their legs and take it like a manperson from the almost-equally re-upstart Nats. Whoever intercepted the memo should be named the game’s most valuable player.

For the first three innings Strasburg was perfect and Mets starter Marcus Stroman, in his first gig in Citi Field, was out of character. Strasburg threw stuff that found his fielders invariably and picked up a punchout per inning. Stroman, the homecoming import from Toronto, forgot he was the John Coltrane of the ground ball and blew away seven on strikeouts, including five straight from the first to the second.

Alas, in the top of the third it began to look like the resurrected Mets couldn’t really hang with the Washington resurrected. The Nats hung up a three-spot in the top thanks in part to Anthony Rendon’s RBI triple flying just past a pair of oncoming Mets outfielders, one of whose knees (Jeff McNeil) had an unexpected and unwanted rendezvous with another’s (Conforto) face. And, thanks in larger part to Juan Soto sailing one parabolically over the right field fence.

Maybe the Nats would escape having to deal with the Mets without Scherzer, after all. Maybe an inning saying “take this, peasants!” would stick a barb into the newly upstart Mets.

But in the bottom of the third Nats first baseman Matt Adams, who’s not exactly the second coming of Mets broadcaster Keith Hernandez at first base, as it is, inexplicably let leadoff walker McNeil escape unscathed, failing to throw him out at second despite all the time on earth to do it off Amed Rosario’s ground out. And after Conforto popped out to Rendon next to third base, up stepped Rookie of the Year candidate Pete Alonso.

In four seconds flat, Strasburg’s sinking changeup traveled from the end of Alonso’s bat over the heads of Hernandez and the rest of the Mets’ broadcast team (Gary Cohen and ex-pitcher Ron Darling), stationed behind the fence for a change, and into the left field seats. Making Alonso the first Mets rook to clear the fences in four straight games since Larry Elliott in 1963.

And five pitches later, J.D. Davis caught hold of a Strasburg four-seamer coming just inside the zone and drove it the other way into the upper deck behind right. Tie game. Just like that. “Who you callin’ peasants, peasants?!?”

Stroman seemed so impervious to the Nats trying to make his life difficult the second time around the order that, after he walked Trea Turner and surrendered an almost prompt single to Adam Eaton for first and second and two out in the fifth, he slipped a full-count cutter right beneath Rendon for swinging strike three, the side, and his eighth punchout of the night.

Then the Nats got a little more frisky in the sixth. A leadoff double down the right field line by Soto. A single by Adams that eluded Alonso diving into the hole for first and third. And a sharp grounder to third by Kurt Suzuki that looked like the Mets would concede the lead run to turn the double play.

Mets third baseman Todd Frazier was having none of that. He threw home as if premeditated. Catcher Wilson Ramos blocked the hopper perfectly, held the ball, and Soto was in the rundown. The lone mistake was the Mets making the extra throw to nail Soto, allowing Adams to third and Suzuki to second. With one out. But Brian Dozier hit a laser to shortstop. And Rosario made as though he’d been studying Hall of Famer Ozzie Smith. He leaped and speared the laser with a hearty overhead glove snap as if he’d been praying for this one all night long. Then Stroman struck out Strasburg himself for the side.

Bullet dodged? Try howitzer. This was the Met defense that could have been tried by jury for treason not a fortnight ago? And maybe nobody in Citi Field was happier or making more racket than Stroman’s mother, resplendent in a blue Mets alternate jersey, jumping and whooping it up from her seat.

The Nats dodged a howitzer of their own in the bottom of the sixth. With first and third they caught a phenomenal break when plate umpire Mark Carlson called ball four on Davis, on a pitch that missed the inside of the zone and on which Davis checked his swing. But first base umpire Tripp Gibson rang Davis up, erroneously, as an overhead replay showed vividly.

Conforto running on the pitch stole second to set up first and third. But if the Mets went on to lose this game, that blown strike would likely have haunted them the rest of the weekend. Maybe the rest of the season, too, depending.

But the Nats pulled Strasburg’s kishkes away from the long knives when Ramos grounded to third, Rendon threw a little wide to first, and Adams bellyflopped like an appendicitic whale behind the base, somehow keeping his toe on the pad and the ball in his mitt, long enough for the side. It would have been the play of the game if the Nats somehow pried a win out of the Mets after saving that would-have-been tiebreaking run.

And in the top of the seventh it looked as though they’d do just that, when Rendon—after a leadoff walk to Turner pushed Stroman out, bringing in lefty Justin Wilson to strike out Adam Eaton—hit Wilson’s first service into the left field seats. “Go figure,” Hernandez purred on the broadcast. “Wilson has poor numbers against Eaton and strikes him out. He has good numbers against Rendon and Rendon hits one out.”

That’s Andujar’s Law, folks: In baseball, there’s just one word—you never know.

But did the Mets know they were done for yet?

They may have had a suspicion when Strasburg, sent back for the bottom of the seventh, took care of Frazier, newly minted Met second baseman Joe Panik (signed after the veteran Giant was designated for assignment, following their acquisition of Scooter Gennett from the Reds), and pinch hitter Luis Gillorme.

Then they thought, not quite yet, after Robert Gsellman worked a reasonably effortless three-and-three top of the eighth. And one of the Nats’ new bullpen toys, former Blue Jay and Dodger Daniel Hudson, opened the bottom by fooling McNeil completely with a changeup hitting the low inner corner. But Rosario gunned a slightly hanging breaking ball to the back corner of the left field grass for a one-out double.

Conforto pushed him to third with a jam-shot ground out up the first base line. After Hudson fed Alonso a diet of high fastballs that Alonso kept fouling off like they were castor oil, alas, Hudson threw him something good enough only to be whacked on the ground to short for the side.

Gsellman went back to open the ninth. The shaggy righthander wrestled Turner to a full count, something into which Turner is very good at wrestling himself when he begins down in the count, then watched Turner foul off a trio before lining a base hit to right. And then Eaton, who’d had nothing to show for four previous plate gigs against Gsellman, pushed a tiny bunt off to the left of the plate from which nobody could throw him out. Even with a shotgun for an arm.

First and second, nobody out, and Rendon at the plate with a .500+ lifetime batting average against Gsellman. But Rendon almost promptly flied out to right, allowing Turner to take third on the play. Prompting Mets manager Mickey Callaway—once beleaguered, now riding the unlikely post All-Star break Mets success—to reach for lefty Luis Avilan to work to the lefthanded Soto, who was one triple short of the cycle.

Not tonight. Avilan struck Soto out on a lazy looking changeup. Up stepped the lumbering Adams, 2-for-4 on the night to that point. Eaton stole second on 1-0, but Avilan pushed Adams to 1-2 before a changeup missed for 2-2.

But then Avilan threw Adams a changeup that hit the dirt and bounced off the veteran Ramos, himself an ex-Nat. Ramos and Avilan each looked as though they’d fallen asleep on their feet as Ramos barely moved back toward the plate and Avilan inexplicably failed to get there in time to cover, as Turner hustled home with the sixth Nats run.

Then Avilan struck out Adams for the side. Leaving the Mets with Doolittle as their last, best hope to save their own kishkes. To lose this one stood a good chance of cutting their momentum and morale completely in half. And Doolittle and his Nats knew it.

But the Mets knew they had the lefthander by the short and curlies almost before he went to work in the bottom of the ninth. The whole season’s record against him was evidence enough.

Sure enough, Davis opened rudely enough by whacking a double to left. And Ramos promptly sent him to third with a line single up the pipe. And Frazier tied the game with a mammoth rip down the left field line and just fair past the foul pole. The way Citi Field went berserk you’d have thought they were watching the resurrection of the 1969 Mets from half a century ago.

Panik, the newest Met, promptly singled to center, only to be forced at second when Lagares’s bunt floated in the air, leaving Panik stuck to determine whether it would hit the ground before running, allowing Rendon hustling in from third to throw as Doolittle in front of him bent over to give him room, getting Panik by several steps. And McNeil flied out to right almost at once.

Two out, extra innings against these relentless Nats looming. Right?

Wrong.

Rosario shot a tracer to left center for a hit setting up first and second. Then Conforto caught hold of a 2-2 inside fastball and sent it on a high line to right, far enough to elude the onrushing Eaton and bound off the fence with Lagares atoning for the busted bunt by scampering home with the winning run.

These Mets can hang with the bigger boys when they need to. They’ve got arguable the toughest schedule remaining among National League contenders and re-contenders. Until Friday night, a Met journey of a thousand miles was more liable to begin with two flats and a busted transmission than a smooth-running vehicle.

They repaired the flats and un-busted the transmission in reasonably record time. Pulling themselves to within a game and a half of the Nats in the National League’s wild card standings at long enough last.

Don’t ask if anything could possibly be wilder than this one’s finish. Both teams know you probably ain’t seen nothing yet. And you might see everything before this set’s finished.