It wasn’t supposed turn out like this. In seemingly record time, former New York Met Matt Harvey went from “The Dark Knight,” a nightlife-loving, dynamic athlete in the tradition of Joe Namath, Walt “Clyde” Frazier, and Keith Hernandez, to a character from The Collected Stories of Richard Yates. Mets fans were once so enamored of Harvey, any day he pitched was designated “Harvey Day.” Suddenly it’s 2019, and after going 5-7, with a 7.09 ERA for the Los Angeles Angels, the team decides to release him halfway through the season. What made this an especially grim development was the timing, as it occurred just a few weeks after the shocking, tragic passing of Angels pitcher Tyler Skaggs. Even with the glaring need for a starting pitcher, Harvey was of no use to them, making him a sad addendum to an even sadder story.
The story of Harvey’s old ballclub, the Mets, is one mainly defined by bad decisions and bad luck, to the extent that they often seem like the Spinal Tap of baseball. A relatively recent example is the Daniel Murphy fiasco. After the Mets went to the 2015 World Series, in large part because of Murphy, the second baseman departed as a free agent, since they barely showed any interest in resigning him. This was despite years of solid production and his transformation into ’85 Don Mattingly during the ’15 postseason, where Murphy hit .529 in the Championship Series against the Chicago Cubs, subsequently becoming the NLCS MVP. Before that, he batted .333 in the Division Series against the Los Angeles Dodgers, at the time managed by the actual Don Mattingly.
Letting him leave was a bad decision. Bad luck was Murphy signing with their division rival Washington Nationals, where he continued channeling “The Hitman” by batting .347 with 25 home runs, and 104 RBI, as well as leading the league in doubles, slugging percentage, and OPS. He also won his first Silver Slugger Award, and finished second in the 2016 NL MVP voting. Worst of all, Murphy’s production was the principal factor in the Nationals dethroning the Mets to win the NL East title. In Spinal Tap terms, that’s pure “Shit sandwich.”
Last year was a different story, perhaps best exemplified by those memorable walk-off victories that evoked the spirit of ’86. Also bringing to mind that year were the on-field interviews Steve Gelbs conducted with first baseman Pete Alonso and left fielder J.D. Davis after their respective game-winning hits. Both players engaged the exhilarated Citi Field crowd like they were David Lee Roth circa ’86, (The propulsive Eat ‘Em and Smile provided an ideal soundtrack to that Summer of Mets) for all intents and purposes doing Diamond Dave’s “Look at the all the people here tonight!” routine.
Aside from the “Polar Bear” and “Sun Bear,” the continued emergence of shortstop Amed Rosario, outfielder Brandon Nimmo, infielder/outfielder Jeff Kent, right fielder Michael Conforto, and reliever Seth Lugo all played a part in the Mets rebounding after a disappointing first half. Having the best pitcher in baseball also didn’t hurt, with ace Jacob deGrom winning his second Cy Young in a row. It’s quite the accomplishment for someone who, out of all the Mets pitching prospects of the early to mid-2010’s, was considered an afterthought. Even Rafael Montero got more hype. Oddly enough, deGrom is enjoying the career that had once been projected for his old teammate Matt Harvey. The former rose up from indifference to achieve eminence, while the latter is currently hurtling through the reverse trajectory.
The Pete Alonso phenomenon shifted Dominic Smith’s trajectory as future first baseman of the Mets from “is” to “was.” But just when it looked like Smith got “Wally Pipped” before he even really started, “Medium Hurt” displayed tenacity that was reminiscent of Wally Backman. Smith excelled as a pinch hitter, played the occasional first base, semi-regular left field, and developed into a legitimate power threat. The Mets, of all franchises, lucked out. Smith and Alonso’s genuine enthusiasm for each other’s success set the tone for last season, giving the Mets a whole new personality, a team now defined by charismatic doggedness.
In late July, Smith’s momentum was stalled by a stress fracture in his left foot. He was still a vital force in the clubhouse, sharing scouting reports and even taking part in the on-field festivity when Michael Conforto got a walk-off hit in August, riding around the field on his scooter. What made the image so indelible is it symbolized Smith’s persistence and humor. And it served as a reminder of why baseball is so compelling. With one crack of the bat, the game can go from a protracted period of intense silence to inspired, silly delirium.
After two month’s on the injured list, Smith set a new standard for triumphant returns. During the last game of the year, in the bottom of the 11th inning, with the Mets down 6-4 to the Atlanta Braves, Smith went up to the plate for his first at-bat since July. He proceeded to hit a three-run walk-off home run, and the Mets won 7-6, setting off the most exultant third place finish in MLB history. The season began with Smith seemingly destined to be a footnote. It ended with Smith rocketing a ball into the night. He couldn’t have made a more grand assertion about his (and the Mets) future.
That feeling of euphoria carried over into spring training. Even outfielder Yoenis Cespedes, after being injured throughout most of his Mets tenure and completely missing 2019, appeared primed to contribute to an already potent offense. It was enough to make you forgive the fact that, back in May of last year, Cespedes pulled a “Spinal Tap.” He fractured his right ankle at his Port St. Lucie ranch by stepping into a hole after an interaction with a wild boar. The insult to literal injury is that it occurred while he was recovering from surgery to both heels.
Still, that was the past. The Mets appeared ready to build on the successes of 2019. As if on cue, Conforto suffered an oblique strain and Noah “Thor” Syndergaard suffered a torn UCL, necessitating Tommy John surgery. In between injuries, the season had to be suspended because of the worst global pandemic in over 100 years, one that continues to get worse due to malignant neglect.
Writing about or discussing America’s pastime as America experiences a real-life, hazardous version of “The Emperor’s New Clothes” is somewhat odd. Maybe even improper. However, it’s a way of whistling past the grave, as the graveyards get filled more than usual.
It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.
Matt Leinwohl