Baseball came back at just the right time. And what a time it is. As the unthinkable rapidly becomes inevitable and the unacceptable gets shrugged off as acceptable on a daily basis, America’s favorite pastime now serves as a great escape from what currently passes for America.

Yet the line between modern life and what Robert DeNiro in The Untouchables referred to as “enthusiasms” got blurred a few weeks ago in Port St. Lucie, just before the first Mets spring training game. 80 miles away from where yet another shooting massacre had recently occurred, the Mets wore Stoneman Douglas High School baseball caps to honor the victims. Some of the school’s students joined David Wright in delivering the lineup card, a powerful image of resilience.

A rich athlete dealing with the twilight of his career, spinal stenosis and various surgeries is obviously not on the same level as what these kids are adapting to, which includes being called “crisis actors” by the lunatic fringe that’s been mainstreamed the last few years. However, since 2015 Wright’s life has essentially been the Thin Lizzy song “Fighting.” Instead of merely relaxing and counting the millions left on his contract, he’s been a beacon of tenacity, battling his way back from numerous setbacks to the only team he’s known. The latest occurred last week when he was shut down from participating in any baseball activities for two months. If Wright is successful in his efforts, the third baseman nicknamed “Captain America” is never going to be the kind of player he once was, but the Mets will benefit from him being the kind of man he is.

Last month, they braced themselves for the increasing likelihood of Wright’s retirement by signing the free agent third baseman Todd “The ToddFather” Frazier. He was introduced at a press conference that could only be viewed on social media. So as the New Jersey native made genuine, good-natured statements like “This is my home, man” in a booming East Coast honk reminiscent of Garden State legend Bill Parcells, comments from Mets fans would pop up. These included “I wish the Wilpons would die in a fiery car crash” and the old nugget “Sandy Balderson.” Frazier’s casual affability and the sheer bitterness of the people who’ll be cheering (and booing) him made for an amusing dichotomy. You could see the difference between someone who’s achieving their dreams, and those who more than likely are not.

After the press conference, he took part in a “Twitter Takeover,” answering the kind of probing inquiries you’d find on Fox & Friends like “If you were a fruit, what fruit would you be?” and “What’s your favorite kind of cookie?” He actually replied to each of those questions with “Watermelon, because it has good flavor!” and ‘I’m simple, chocolate chip. And thin mints are always great.” Someone who was clearly an Airplane fan asked “Do you like gladiator movies?” (Frazier ignored that one.) When it was over, he said “Thanks for the great questions” with a straight face, and sincerely meant it. There are good sports, and then there’s Todd Frazier.

In his debut appearance as a Met, Frazier hit a single. Not as dramatic as smashing a home run, but preferable to him straining his groin on the way to first, the kind of thing we’ve come to expect from the Metropolitans in the last two years. Jacob Rhame, Jamie Callahan, and Drew Smith, all acquired last summer in the Curtis Granderson, Addison Reed, and Lucas Duda trades, combined for three shutout innings, as the Mets beat the Braves 6-2.

Even when the Mets are unwatchable (as they were last year), they’re always fun to watch because of Ron Darling, Gary Cohen, and Keith Hernandez, the best broadcast team in baseball. During first base prospect Peter Alonso’s initial at-bat, Darling mentioned that the bulky slugger brought back memories of “Bye-Bye” Balboni, a name that conjures up the post-Reggie, pre-Mariano era of the Yankees, which was a moment in time that’s inextricably linked to our existing state of affairs. This was the early ‘80s, back when Darling, Hernandez, and a bunch of other unforgettable characters had arrived in Queens, with the Mets about to take over the city, while George Steinbrenner ran the Yankees in a cruel, self-defeating, moronic, chaotic way that made a prodigious impact on a real estate developer friend/protégé of his.

Steve “Bye-Bye” Balboni was a feast or famine hitter known for his home runs and strikeouts, and who had the great misfortune to come up with the Yankees as a first base prospect the same exact time as Don Mattingly. He eventually got traded to the Royals and received a World Series ring in 1985, leading the club in home runs. Incidentally, the late Dick Howser was the manager of that championship team. Five years before, he managed the Yankees to 103 regular-season victories. When they were swept by the Royals in the American League Championship Series, Steinbrenner fired him. Making matters worse, he held a news conference to state that Howser left to pursue a Florida real estate opportunity. At the present time, even vintage bullshit has a contemporary stench to it.

And what a time it is.

Matt Leinwohl