This is all Steve Cohen’s mess to clean. Let’s be clear about that. It was less than four years ago that Cohen came riding into Queens as the white knight Mets fans had been begging for. And yes: Mets fans ate up Cohen’s through-the-door swagger, his promise to add championships in short order.
They were especially entranced by his bank account, and by Cohen’s immediate assertion that he’d take advantage of it. And give the man this: He did spend money. It might not have been spent wisely or apportioned optimally, but he cut some big checks. And he’s been true to his vow to build — through his deep resources — the kind of infrastructure and farm system that keep the gold standards like the Dodgers and Braves cooking.
But he said something else early in his tenure.
“I want us to be a model franchise,” he said in 2021, “but that means more than just the ball on the field. That means the fan experience. It means running a baseball team the way a good company is run. It means being a team that fans can be proud of.”
And, well …
Almost four years in, the Mets experienced a day on Wednesday that goes right there on the deep shelf of facepalm days that we’ll discuss in further detail in a few paragraphs.
Let’s forget the dual-injury two-step to Edwin Diaz and Pete Alonso that kick-started things. Let’s just pick up with another loss (seventh in eight games, 19th in 26 games in May heading into Thursday’s game with the Diamondbacks). Let’s talk about another full-on bullpen implosion (what felt like the 49th in those 27 games). And, of course, let’s talk about Jorge Lopez discus-ing his glove into the stands.
Let’s give Lopez the benefit of every doubt when it comes to the rant that came after a full team meeting, and about an hour after the final pitch of the Dodgers’ 10-1 win.
(And let’s maybe cool it the next time you roll your eyes because a Japanese or Latin player is using an interpreter — and I’ve heard from plenty who roll their eyes in those moments. Consider this Exhibit A why it’s often best to speak in a language with which you’re most comfortable.)
It was still a horrifyingly unprofessional thing to do. That’s not just a Mets code, that’s a baseball code. Carlos Rodon blew kisses as he walked off the mound after a poor start in Anaheim last year — which isn’t even close to what Lopez did — and the Yankees’ reaction was swift and it was stern, and Rodon saw the error of his ways immediately.
The Lopez incident recalled the night of May 30, 1980, when Luis Tiant, angry at being removed with a shutout with two outs in the eighth inning of an eventual 6-0 Yankees win over the Blue Jays, dropped the ball to the mound instead of handing it to Dick Howser, then flung his glove 12 rows into the stands at Yankee Stadium.
Howser ordered Tiant to the clubhouse immediately, loudly dressed him down and fined him $500. Howser, like Carlos Mendoza a rookie manager, made a strong impression with his players by confronting Tiant. By that point, of course, Tiant had already won 221 games in the big leagues (198 more than Lopez) and his antics made barely a ripple since that was still the teeth of the Bronx Zoo Yankees.
Those Yankees were forgiven their daily silliness because when the business transferred to the field, there were few teams that measured up to them. The Mets don’t have that luxury. With the rare exception of the ’86 team that managed to laugh off their weekly brushes with brushbacks, brouhahas and bars, whenever the Mets devolve into slapstick it generally accompanies woeful baseball.
There is no way to make a complete list of this without taking up the rest of the sports section, but a brief rundown would include: M. Donald Grant exiling Tom Seaver for pennies on the dollar, Vince Coleman’s firecrackers, Bobby Bonilla’s earplugs, Brett Saberhagen’s bleach, Grant Roberts’ weed, Francisco Rodriguez’ father-in-law, Javy Baez, Francisco Lindor and Kevin Pillar thumbs-downing the fans …
And, now, this.
This was all supposed to be a part of the Mets’ “colorful” history when Cohen swept out the Wilpons. We sure used to blast Fred and Jeff when the Mets devolved into ridiculousness. Only fair to do the same with Cohen. He didn’t speak Thursday, and neither did David Stearns, and that, honestly, was just fine. Mets fans are tired of words.
They want action. More than anything, one of these years, they’d like to not instinctively twitch when they hear the words “baseball” and “laughingstock” in the same sentence, when maybe the GIF of crying Mr. Met can officially be retired like Darryl Strawberry’s number.
