We entered to the strains of We are the Champions and Another One Bites the Dust echoing through the cavernous backfields surrounding the newly named – again – Clover Park, winter home of the New York Mets.
It cannot be said that these 2020 Mets are an unsure bunch.
For those of us who make the annual pilgrimage to this fast-growing, golf-crazed, one-time sleepy backwater midway up Florida’s east coast, almost any music, or no music, would do just fine. All that matters, as always, is that spring has sprung, at least in Florida, and the crack of the bat and snap of the glove signal that all will soon be right with our world. We are not yet weighed down by great expectations or haunting memories of what might have been. We’re just happy to be back in that warm, comfortable saddle we will ride for many a sultry summer day and night.
But the comfort level this spring is not limited to just the fact of baseball’s return, or functioning amidst generously displayed images of towering figures in franchise history – Casey, Gil, Tom Terrific, the Kid, and of course, Mr. Piazza, for whom the stadium street address has now been renamed – 31 Piazza Way.
No, unlike this time last year, it is clear that this team is no longer seeking an identity. It knows what it is, and is not. Not completely, of course. No team, even the stacked evil empire in the Bronx, can be sure how the twists and turns of fate, and injury, will impact the course of its season.
Nevertheless, consider the core issues of last spring: is Pete Alonso the Polar Bear fool’s gold or the real thing? Could Jeff McNeil the squirrel really be as good as he looked in 2018 now that the league is ready for him? Will Amed Rosario at shortstop ever live up to the hype of a top-ranked prospect? Is Dominic Smith even worth keeping? Will this J.D. Davis – big numbers in the minors, nothing to see in the show – amount to anything? Can an aging Robinson Cano carry on at peak level without the banned substance which resulted in his suspension? Can a rotation with no real safety net stay healthy after years of production lost to injuries? Can the wildly unpopular Jason Vargas pitch to even replacement level?
A lot of time spent on baserunning.
All of these new faces and perplexing questions led to a team in search of an identity. And that identity would not be fully formed until it seemed too late to matter.
Then consider the one thing we almost universally believed would be our greatest strength, and anything but a cause for concern in 2019: the bullpen.
Ouch. The very thought of those record-shattering 15 homers – 15! – in the 9th inning off our unhittable new closer was not even in the realm of possibility. And of course, worst case scenario, we still brought back the guy – Jeurys Familia – who saved 51 games for us back in the day. The possibility of both imploding was far off the radar screen. But then, this is the Mets.
That script is now flipped. It is last spring’s questions which have largely been answered, and last spring’s answers which are now in question. This, of course, is not to say the bullpen hasn’t been bolstered, but even there, it’s with a guy who threw to one batter all last year. And of course injuries, off-seasons, career years, evolution of performance and age-related decline are all inevitable.
Nevertheless, as everyone gathers here to begin the journey of a hundred miles with the first steps, one senses that the breakout seasons of vital cogs in the offense, together with the bond forged in the crucible of last season’s shared journey to baseball hell and back, have produced a true and comfortable self-identity, and corresponding confidence within both the team and its fan base. Among the gathered faithful, the air of curiosity about the team evident last spring had turned to an air of familiarity. We could overhear more than one conversation on how, if the Nationals could win it all last year, then this year it’s out turn, as if the World Series trophy must rightly be held exclusively by teams in the National League East.
Visiting practice is a perilous enterprise. The workouts are free and open to the public, but you never know who will be doing what and when. They can shut things down without warning, and you never know what you might witness. We were rained out of the first practice we went to see (but redirected to the nearby Navy Seal Museum – well worth a visit), and among the things we failed to see the second day was either of the Mets’ versions of Mysteries of the Deep, Yoenis Cespedes and Jed Lowrie, as we struggle to comprehend what actually happened to this pair who were supposed to be central to last year’s team, but vanished into the gloaming as if in witness protection. The difference is that this year, they have become add-on luxuries who are not counted on for anything.
One inning hardly a wise evaluation makes, but Rick Porcello immediately provided a greater presence – not to mention talent – on the mound than the reviled Vargas in his one inning in the split-squad spring opener. And Michael Wacha represents a luxury we did not have, and by good fortune did not need, in 2019: a competent extra starter who, unlike Corey Oswalt, Chris Flexen et al., won’t embarrass the organization. Oswalt was torched – again – by the no-name Marlins’ lineup as the grumbles grew around us at Clover Park, as if the fans were collectively murmuring, why is this guy even getting another look? On the other hand, (one of) our shortstops of the future looked every bit the dazzling glove guy he is cracked up to be – Andres Giminez deftly turned three twin-killings in the first five innings.
Who can say from a single practice game, but Luis Rojas looked not like a towering presence in the dugout, but active, present and accounted for. Of course, the questions about our (latest) new manager will hardly be answered in the cozy confines of St. Lucie. While this man who has patiently worked his way up the organizational ladder is almost uniquely prepared for the job when it comes to the art of managing learned at the feet of his father Felipe Alou, deep knowledge of the franchise and whatever can be described as the Mets’ way, he will ultimately be evaluated under the big city spotlight for which he may or may not be prepared.
But there will be more than enough time to consider, and yes panic, over whatever shortcomings in this team present themselves. But in this time of year marked by unbridled and unreasonable optimism, just think of Jacob trying to make it three straight Cy Youngs. Pete Alonso launching his gargantuan home runs. Jeff McNeil pecking the opponent to death. Rosario channeling vintage Reyes with his fast wheels and improving glove. J.D. and his oh-so-timely hits. Dominic coming off the bench with the big pinch hit. Betances unleashing his thunder. Five guys in the pen who can give you a save. Think of the revived second-half Nimmo and Cano, and the possibilities, oh the possibilities, of the returning thunder of a healthy Cespedes.
No wonder they kept re-racking Queen’s signature song.
