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ROOT, ROOT, ROOT

It’s symbolic of how difficult the New York Mets’ 2026 season has been that their All-Star break ends one night early – in Philadelphia, not exactly the place to ease back into a routine.

In fact, the Mets and their fans probably would do well with a whole week off instead of three days. Maybe even the rest of July.

The Mets were supposed to be good this season. Some experts actually picked them to win the World Series, ignoring the fact that the Los Angeles Dodgers exist. At the very least, they would make the playoffs.

Instead, they’re battling the Colorado Rockies and San Francisco Giants for the worst record in the National League. They lost 12 straight in April and seven straight last month, the latter streak resulting in the dismissal of manager Carlos Mendoza.

They were supposed to make the playoffs in 2025, too. But about halfway through, they seemed to forget how to win. On the last day of the season, the Miami Marlins ended their playoff hopes.

Mets fans, never a particularly optimistic bunch, have a scapegoat. It’s David Stearns, the team’s president of baseball operations.

After the Mets missed out last year, Stearns overhauled the team. To an extent rarely seen in the history of baseball. He traded or did not sign some of the team’s biggest recent stars – including Pete Alonso, the team’s all-time home run leader.

Stearns replaced them with well-known, if not especially superstar-like, players. It would be wrong to say they underperformed – too many of them haven’t been in enough games due to injuries.

So for the same nearly $400 million of Steve Cohen’s money, the Mets are embedded in last place in the National League East. They’re unlikely, barring an unprecedented comeback, to make a run at the postseason.

Fans wanted Stearns, hired away from the Milwaukee Brewers with much hoopla after the disappointing 2023 season, out the door with the velocity of a Jacob Misiorowski fastball. (Misiorowski, he of the 105 mph pitch, was one of the last players brought into the Brewers organization by Stearns.)

It’s fair to say Stearns made some miscalculations and bad moves. Mets fans would say that’s a generous characterization.

But here’s the question I have for those fans – of whom I am one: How much of the blame for the Mets’ lousy season belongs to us?

Right off the bat, that question would offend a large chunk of Metsdom. Especially the radio sports jocks who make their money fueling grievance and baiting Charlie from Lynbrook or whoever is on the line.

My view goes against one of the general principles of American life: The customer is always right.

It’s just that Met fans – not unlike their Gotham in-laws, New York Yankee fans – feel a sense of entitlement. And that sense has consequences.

When the Mets missed the playoffs last year, all you could hear was how the team needed to be overhauled. The core had to be broken up if the Mets were going to win again.

Then Stearns broke up the core. And the lamenting began. We needed to sign Alonso! Why did they trade Brandon Nimmo and Jeff McNeil? How could they let Edwin Diaz go to the Dodgers? (That kind of worked out – Diaz has been injured most of the season, and you should Google “Edwin Diaz and cockfighting” for another problem.)

The pressure on Stearns was relentless. And, for the most part, the acquisitions he made in the off-season were cheered by fans. Bo Bichette got the Toronto Blue Jays really close to winning the championship. Freddy Peralta was the second best pitcher in the National League last year.

It turns out fans are fickle and have no idea what it takes to build a winning baseball team.

For a long time, they thought it was the manager’s – Mendoza’s – fault. When I defended him in a social media post, one wizard told me that a real manager like Leo Durocher would have chewed out Juan Soto for not hustling – conveniently not knowing that it was Durocher’s overmanaging and badgering of the 1969 Chicago Cubs that contributed significantly to the 1969 Miracle Mets.

Fans booed Soto when he first arrived in Flushing because he got off to a slow start. They booed Bichette in the second game when he missed opportunities to drive in runs. In fact, fans believe booing is a motivator when home team players go into a tailspin.

Because we all dream of 40,000 people heckling us at the same time. It’s what little boys see and hear in their imaginations as they go to sleep dreaming of big-league stardom. (The previous two sentences are bonafide sarcasm.)

My wife is not a big baseball fan, but she knows how much I love it and goes to an occasional game. In 2019, she was at a Met game in which catcher Travis d’Arnaud, a contributor to the team’s National League championship in 2015, was making a return from an injury that had cost him most of the prior season.

d’Arnaud had a rough night. He couldn’t throw out baserunners trying to steal second – at least one throw found its way into the outfield. And, with the team down, d’Arnaud got a base hit – and tried to stretch it into a double, almost seeming as though he was desperate to make something good happen.

He was out. By a lot. He got booed off the field. The manager took him out of the game and the Mets released him the next day.

Of course, d’Arnaud ended up playing a role in winning a championship in Atlanta and made the All-Star team. Met fans were furious, because the Mets had let him go – despite the fact that they themselves pretty much drove him out of Flushing.

Fan entitlement is symptomatic of this era in our history. For whatever amount of money they pay to see a game or time they spend watching on TV, they believe they are owed success. They fail to recognize that this stuff isn’t easy – and the pressure to perform, on and off the field, would make most of us crumble. Especially in New York.

I’m not saying it all of the Mets’ problems are fans’ fault. Or even most. Stearns should feel as though he needs to do better or else be labeled one of the biggest failures in New York sports executive history.

In any event, it’s likely to be a year of playing out the string at Citi Field. Which, as a fan, isn’t the worst thing.

The worst thing is if the billionaires who run the sport decide they want to lock out the players and there’s no Major League Baseball in 2027.

So I’ll go the games for which I have tickets. I’ll root for players I like, in a town I love, for the franchise I cheer, and watch baseball – still the greatest game of all.

That’s what I’ll do until the regular season ends on September 28. When I will start hoping for a miraculous comeback in 2027 – or whenever the next season is.

And, if I’m looking for a winner, I’ve got my hopes up for the New York Heights, the new entry in the Women’s Professional Baseball League that begins play in August. Let’s go, Heights!

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TRUE ORANGE AND BLUE

I’ll post my usual assemblage of thoughts about the state of the world on Thursday.

But as a devoted fan of the New York Mets, I feel compelled to write a few words about being a devoted fan of the New York Mets.

I haven’t always been a devoted fan of the New York Mets (OK, I’ll stop with the ‘devoted’ stuff). My parents bonded over their love of the other team in town, the one with all the prominent Italian-Americans such as Joe DiMaggio, Yogi Berra and Phil Rizzuto. 

So I had that team’s swag when I was 7, long before anyone knew about team swag.

My mother’s father was a fan of the other New York team. But he and, because I admired my grandfather so much, I dumped them in late 1964 when they fired Berra as manager after losing the World Series in seven games.

The Mets built their new home, Shea Stadium, less than two miles from my childhood home. They weren’t an easy team to adopt, since they were bad. Notoriously, comically bad.

But Grandpa and I stuck with the Mets. We were rewarded five years later when they shocked the world and went from godawful to World Series champions. 

I stuck with them until 1977, when they unceremoniously dumped their greatest-ever player, Tom Seaver. Back to Brand X I went, watching them win two Series.

Then, in 1985, Berra – in his second time around as their manager – got fired again by the team’s impetuous, boorish owner. 

It was back to the Mets again. And because I feared that I showed signs of being one of the things I hate most – a front-runner – I vowed to stay true to the Orange and Blue.

That has not been the easiest thing to do.

After proving me right in 1986 with their second Series win, they have failed to achieve another one.

They had great chances several times, including a World Series against that other team in 2000. The closest they’ve come is avoiding a sweep, twice.

In the process of staying true to the Mets and cheering them all the damn time, I did a godawful, terrible thing:

I helped turn my kids into Mets fans, too.

For the more than 30 years of both their lives, they have never had the opportunity to see the Mets be the last team standing. To see them ride through New York’s Canyon of Heroes with the city’s denizens hurling garbage at them, because there’s no such thing as ticker tape in the 21st century.

My son actually works for them. He spent about 55 of his days or nights this season helping a pretty full Citi Field cheer for players who carry their hopes of glory for the franchise.

That faith was not rewarded yesterday. After compiling the best record in baseball through early June and holding a playoff spot until the 160th game of the 162-game season, the Mets ended 2025 failing to make the postseason.

It’s not the first time they faltered on the last day of the regular season. It’s not even the second. Three times this century, they’ve been on the outside of glory after failing miserably in the final game. This despite having a payroll something around $340 million, including more than $50 million for outfielder Juan Soto in the first of a 15-year contract.

It might be all right if I suffered these defeats by myself.

But I don’t.

When they were in elementary school, they heard the taunts of the other team’s fans. When the Mets lost the World Series to the other team, the school held a parade to celebrate. I was incensed – but somehow not surprised – that the principal could be that insensitive.

But like me, they’ve stuck with the Mets. We go to games together, drag their Mom to the ballpark on occasion, have converted my daughter’s wife and are working on my son’s girlfriend.

I want so very badly for the Mets to win a World Series before I pass from this life, so I can celebrate with my family and revel in the reflected glory. I would even just like not to have to listen to fans of other teams – and THAT other team – make snide remarks about they’re cheering for active teams in October and we’re not.

But I’m not as despondent as I thought I’d be when this collapse appeared imminent. I got to see 25 Mets games in 2025 and created memories with the people I love. We got to cheer and enjoy some special moments. 

It’s nice to win – and it hurts a lot to lose. But baseball has meant joy, excitement and – most importantly – family for 71 years.

I’ll be back. We’ll get ‘em next year. 

And if your team is in the postseason, congratulations. Enjoy this moment.

Even if you root for that other team.

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HOLIDAY SONG COUNTDOWN – DEC. 9

“CHRISTMAS DOWN IN COOPERSTOWN” – 16 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS

Baseball and holiday music are both obsessions of mine. So I’ve spent a lot of time wondering if there is something that shares both my passions.

That would be “Christmas Down in Cooperstown,” a song written and performed by Dana Cooke. It’s the one song we know he’s performed, appearing on an album of baseball music sold at the Hall of Fame and showing up on a Syracuse radio morning show.

The song isn’t half bad. It has a certain wistfulness that, if you’ve ever been to the Baseball Hall of Fame, seems appropriate.

Can’t find anything else Cooke has done – a website supposedly his doesn’t come up. So if this is his one and only work, it’s a masterpiece.

How appropriate this is as Mets fans celebrate their future Hall of Famer, Juan Soto.

https://hungryformusic.bandcamp.com/track/christmas-down-in-cooperstown

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9 – MEET THE METS

My parents, both baseball fans, knew when I was born that I would root for a team from New York.

I’m sure they expected it to be their team, the Yankees. The Yanks had just won the World Series for the fifth straight year. And given the Italian heritage of the team – Lazzeri, Crosetti, DiMaggio, Rizzuto and Berra – it seemed likely.

My Dad had grown up in Brooklyn and been to his share of Dodger games, especially during World War II when kids got in for bringing old tires or scrap metal to the gate. He had a soft spot for them – they were the team of Duke Snider, Carl Furillo and Jackie Robinson. And they were pretty good, having won the past two National League pennants.

Neither of my parents were fond of the Giants, who played in Manhattan across the Harlem River from the Yankees. But the Giants had inspired all of baseball in 1951 when Bobby Thomson’s famous home run capped a spectacular comeback. And they were getting their young phenom, Willie Mays, back from two years in the military.

So which of those three teams would the new gleam of their eye cheer for when he turned 70 years old in 2024?

Meet the Mets.

No, kids, the Mets did not exist in 1954 – although you could have confused them with the hapless Washington Senators of Douglas Wallop’s best-selling novel, “The Year the Yankees Lost the Pennant,” which was in the process of becoming a Broadway musical.

New York baseball fans did not imagine that the Dodgers and Giants would leave. Maybe the Giants, although they won the World Series in 1954 with the help of Mays’ play known simply as “The Catch ” Brooklyn loved the Dodgers and Ebbets Field, the bandbox where they played, and that bond seemed unbreakable.

But Walter O’Malley – who bought the Dodgers in 1950 – wanted a new, modern stadium – and he wanted it in downtown Brooklyn, where the Barclays Center arena is today. The city, in the person of “Master Builder” Robert Moses, offered him a place in Flushing instead, thinking O’Malley was bluffing about moving the Dodgers to Los Angeles. 

Bad call, Bob. O’Malley took the team west – and convinced Giants owner Horace Stoneham to go to San Francisco.

From 1958 through 1961, New York had one team. The Yankees. But there were way too many National League fans for that to last too long. After a lot of threats to form a third league, New York was granted a franchise to begin playing in 1962.

There were a lot of things that made the Mets attractive to me. They were building a stadium very close to where we lived in Flushing. My Dad took me to the ground breaking for what would become Shea Stadium in 1961. 

And then, when Yogi Berra was fired as manager after the Yanks won the pennant but lost the World Series in 1964, that was it. My grandfather and I were Mets fans.

Being a Mets fan is a lot harder than being a Yankees fan. A lot. Mets fans have suffered through some of the worst baseball ever played. The team still holds the modern record for the worst season ever – 40 wins, 120 losses in 1962. There are a lot more losing seasons than winning ones. Yes, there’s the occasional miracle – see 1969 – but heartbreak is the default mode.

And we’re fatalistic to a flaw. 

One time, my Mom and I were watching a game entering the ninth inning with the Mets up 4-2. I said “Goodbye, Mom.” And she responded, “How can you leave? Don’t you want to see them win?”

I said. “No, I don’t want to see them lose.”

My mother was too used to rooting for a team with Mariano Rivera as its closer. “Oh, ye of little faith. Stay and watch them win.”

“OK,” I said. “I’ll stay to prove my point.”

Which the Mets did. Final score: San Francisco 5, Mets 4.

But it’s also a lot more fun to be a Mets fan. When we’re winning, we’re happy and loud, full of braggadocio for a team that more often doesn’t have much. Met fans brought clever banners to the ballpark and embraced quirky players from Marvelous Marv Throneberry to Daniel Vogelbach. They’re the team of Hayden “Sidd” Finch and Chico Escuela, who don’t really exist, but the Mets went along with the joke. 

It seems like work to be a Yankee fan – if the team doesn’t win the World Series, the whole year is an abysmal failure.

So let Los Angeles have the Dodgers. Let San Francisco have the Giants. Let the Bronx have its Bombers. They might have all been here in 1954, but two of them are gone now.

We have the Mets. LGM!

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39 – THE MUDVILLE TEN

If there was anything people in 1954 would be certain about what life would be like 70 years later, it’s the fact that there are nine starting players in a Major League Baseball game.

And they’d be wrong.

After the bewilderment, it would be your opportunity to explain the designated hitter, or DH.

It was instituted in 1973 by the American League to increase the amount of offense in a game. AL attendance – that includes my parents’ beloved New York Yankees – lagged the National League, which seemed to play a more exciting game of baseball. The National League had Willie Mays, Henry Aaron, Billy Williams and a lot of other sluggers, as well as aggressive players such as Pete Rose and Joe Morgan.

The DH was the American League’s answer to that. It took almost a half-century for the National League to follow suit, boosted toward action by the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020.

Diehard baseball fans, like my parents, had issues with the DH. It seemed like it reduced the pitcher to being a one-way player. And it simplified some of baseball’s strategy – do I pinch hit for a pitching who’s got a good game going but is down a run?

Then, in 2008, Yankee pitcher Chien-Ming Wang, off to a fantastic start in his career, needed to run the bases in a game at Houston, which was then part of the National League. At that time, games in NL parks were played without the DH, a disadvantage to AL teams.

Wang tore up his right foot and needed extensive rehabilitation. It derailed his career and hurt the Yankees’ chances in that season.

As my brother says, my mother was more of a Yankee fan than a baseball fan. When Wang got hurt, the DH became a necessity. We argued about it for the final 11 years of her life.

The DH is one of two rule changes that fundamentally changed major sports.

The other came in basketball.

When there were efforts made to challenge the dominance of the National Basketball Association, upstart leagues introduced a 3-point field goal. It was attained by sinking a basket from a long distance.

The idea was to increase scoring and allow smaller players to have as much impact on the game as the big centers were having in the NBA.

The American Basketball Association, which started play in 1967, introduced three-point baskets (and a red, white and blue basketball). Two years after four ABA teams were absorbed into the NBA, the expanded league introduced the 3-point line. A few years later, it made its way into college basketball.

That rule has made comebacks more feasible in games. And it has produced prolific long-range shooters such as Stephen Curry and Caitlin Clark.

Are games with 3-point baskets and DHs more fun to watch? I don’t know what folks in 1954 would have thought.

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