FLUSHING, N.Y. — You sit in the upper decks of that baseball park in Queens where you have spent so many nights both dismal and beautiful, and you stare out at the New York City sky. Everyone around you is booing. This is a good moment to wonder what you are doing there.
You were raised by a Cardinals fan. You could have been happy, or at least middlingly happy, or at least self-satisfied in the way that Cardinals fans seem to be. You could also have followed your brother, abandoned all sense of morals, and become a Yankees fan. Sure, you and he would have seen the same amount of World Series wins since you developed a real capacity for memory, but at least you wouldn’t be hanging your head in shame as often. You could have just rejected baseball fandom entirely and kept your life simple and painless. All of these decisions would have kept you from sitting where you are sitting.
But instead you chose the path of despair and hardship and became a Mets fan. You can tell yourself that you’re a stronger person for it, but that would be a lie. You are just a fool who spent money to watch this team reinvent the very concept of shitting the bed over the course of nine brutal innings that featured the home team committing six infield errors—at least one from each infielder, and two by second baseman Marcus Semien and first baseman Mark Vientos—and a passed ball. The Mets lost the second game of Wednesday's doubleheader sweep against the Cubs by the score of 10-5, becoming the first team in the Majors this year to lose a game in which it hit four more homers than the opponent. It is tough to say what you lost while watching it.
But then you look at your friend, your dear lovely friend, whom you forced to become a Mets fan during your freshman year of college without any regard to the long-term effects to her health and wellbeing, just because she was the only person you knew who also liked baseball. You selfish bastard. And you remember how you explained to her, on the subway ride that first time, that she should devote herself to this life of crushed dreams by telling her that the Mets began as the one of worst teams in the history of baseball in 1962 and then went on to win the World Series before that decade was over. And then you proceeded to solidify both her fandom and your friendship at that game, as you witnessed the Mets complete their second no-hitter in franchise history. Because of that, this is what she thinks being a Mets fan is, and will be like. She thinks that every moment of misery will be followed by an underdog's triumph. And you don’t have the heart to tell her that no such triumph is coming. So you say to yourself, "Sarah, get your shit together." And you remember one thing about the Mets that you seem to have forgotten, which is that nobody loses baseball games quite like them.
The Mets may not be the best in the standings, or at batting or pitching. For all the offseason talk about Committing To Run Prevention, to call them even close to mediocre at fielding would be laughable. But they are the best at being an absolute trainwreck. There, and only there, you are watching greatness.
Other teams have lost more games this season, but none have done it as pathetically or with such disregard for the basic skills necessary for the game as the New York Mets. Losing both games of a doubleheader and giving up 10 runs in each of them is incredible. Letting Dansby Swanson, who has been one of the worst hitters in baseball this season, hit a three-run homer, a grand slam, and a triple over those two games is unfathomable. This helped him raise his batting average above .200; he drove in 11 runs on the day. Six errors in a single game, distributed so evenly and with such awful timing, is miraculous. The Mets are demonstrating pure brilliance in the field of losing.
Say what you will about the Mets infield, but they know how to be team players. This was the first time that all four of the team's infielders had made at least one error since that inaugural 1962 season; the last group to do this had the legendary Marvelous Marv Throneberry on the team. As for who was the Marviest last night, it seemed as though all of the infielders are trying hard to audition for the part. What error is in the same league as missing first and second base, as Marv once did on a triple? Was it Bo Bichette seemingly giving up on a throw mid-hop, only for the ball to tumble out of his glove? Francisco Lindor, freshly back after missing two months with a hamstring injury, slipping up on a ground ball straight into his hand? What about Vientos botching both a toss to first and a hard-hit grounder? Or is it Semien committing two errors, including one in which he dropped the ball just to drop it again when he tried to pick it up, on a night when the team gave fans a replica jersey with his name on the back? Even the scoreboard guy got in on the fun, leaving a blank screen with just Vientos’s face up when he stepped up to the plate. See, everybody’s having fun! This is fun! Aren’t you having fun?
We have passed the point of watching this team as mere misery and crossed a strange threshold into a new sort of fascination. It is something like watching very young children tumble adorably over the bases in a teeball game, but also an experience that evokes the more engaged and abstracted horror one would give to watching a car crash in slow motion. You’re trying, buddy, and wow you’re so bad at it, and now it’s on fire and it’s a pileup and oh it’s getting even worse!
Don’t look away now. Citizens of New York. Fans of the Metropolitans. All who have woken up this morning not with hope for a World Series or even an inspiringly futile push for a wild-card spot, but with the cold dread of having to watch this sad excuse of a baseball team for another few months. This is my declaration: Let’s give up. Let’s stop this pointless charade of hope, accept where this team's skills lie, and celebrate it.
Six errors is all well and good, but I think they can do better. Let’s make it double digits. 12 games under .500? Let’s double that and make it a full amateur hour. Oh, you thought a 12-game losing streak was bad? They can do even worse! Losing by one run? These are not the losers I know and love. Let’s lose by 10. If it’s gonna be bad, they'd better be the best at it.
Bring your kiddies and bring your wife. It’s time to meet the Mets in all of their abysmal glory, and then maybe it is time to do something else.
