Chase Field in Arizona has a retractable roof and air conditioning, but you couldn't feel it the evening of Thursday, June 14. In the fan zone in right center with 12 of my best friends in the world, the sweat poured off many of our foreheads. We sat quietly for a couple innings to conserve energy, until one of my groomsmen -- staring at the monitor in front of him -- stumbled upon a stat that shocked him:
"This can't be right," he began.
"What is it?"
"Nah, this can't be possible."
"What are you looking at?"
"Brace yourself, John," he said.
A look of worry swept across my face.
"This is the first time in ten games," he said, pausing for effect, "that the Mets have scored a run in more than one inning."
"You're definitely reading that wrong," I replied, with some confidence.
"Nah, they're really THAT bad," he insisted. "I don't understand how a stat like that is even possible. They've only been scoring in one inning -- or no innings? -- for almost two weeks???"
Embarrassing, I know; but we arrived in Arizona knowing these young Mets were approaching rock bottom. After storming out of the gate to a mind-boggling 11-1 start under rookie manager Mickey Callaway, my favorite team tumbled harder than Simone Biles during her floor exercise.
I was hoping to watch a playoff contender on my Bachelor Party, but that contender turned out to be our opponent, the pesky Diamondbacks led by Paul Goldschmidt, David Peralta, Daniel Descalso and Jon Jay. The Mets should have acquired Jay from the anemic Royals for pennies on the dollar, but that's a story for a different day.
So that night, in right center, I began developing my up-close-and-personal scouting reports for the young men in blue and orange. It started with a routine double play in the bottom of the 5th. The Mets were trailing 3-1, when Nick Ahmed bounced into a 5-4-3, from Todd Frazier to Asdrubal Cabrera over to Dominic Smith. It was an entirely unspectacular play. And here we are -- trailing in the game, on the road and stumbling down the standings -- and there's Brandon Nimmo in right field...
Pounding his glove and celebrating the DP as if Jeurys Familia had just nailed down a playoff win in the 9th. I mean, this kid was pumped. Nimmo loves to play the game, and he's serious about every out, start to finish. No one else reacted that way. I took a mental note.
As the game progressed, we received a surprise visit from
Paul Kellam of the Diamondbacks' Suite Sales division. Paul, aware of the Bachelor Party and our large group of baseball fans, gave us 6 complimentary field-level tickets behind the Mets dugout for the following night's game. The gentleman and class act he is, he also told us he'd get us down to the field for batting practice. (If you're ever looking to attend a game at Chase Field, I highly recommend hitting him up
@charles_kellam on Twitter.)
Thursday's game ended in a 6-3 loss, but the action was good -- 7 total homers were hammered -- and I came away optimistic about the dingers from our young cornerstones Nimmo, Michael Conforto and Amed Rosario. Our youthful shortstop's late homer was clutch, but we were unable to catch up after a disastrous relief performance from 25-year old right-hander Jacob Rhame. The D'Backs teed off on Rhame -- whose 97-mph fastballs simply weren't enough -- with insurance bombs from Peralta and Jake Lamb.
PART II: "In Da Club" With the Mets
Later that night we went out in Scottsdale. We stroll up to the bar for drinks and, lo and behold, who do we see in VIP?
None other than Noah "Thor" Syndergaard, future closer Robert Gsellman and the LVP, Rhame.
Should you really be out at the club partying after losing 11 out of your last 12 games? Is that a streak worth celebrating? I understand that these are young men who need to have lives, but I'm not too sure about the timing.
So as soon as Rhame stepped down from VIP, I went right after him.
"Jacob, what happened tonight?" I asked. "Two homers over 400 feet? Ouch."
In his shoes, after an embarrassing performance, I probably would have been like who the hell are you? Get out of my face. Instead, he smiled, laughed and said "yeah, I don't know what happened out there tonight. I couldn't get anyone out."
Nice guy. We chatted for a minute or so. When he headed toward the bar, my friends also badgered him with insults (playfully). He took it well. I just don't know. If I were Jacob Rhame, with a 9.00 ERA looking to survive in the major leagues, I don't think I'd be out celebrating. I don't think I'd be laughing off hecklers, either. I'd probably be up all night trying to figure out how to get better. I'd be looking for a way to stay up in the bigs. Instead, he was finding a way to stay out all night.
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| There I am with Thor. We look alike. |
I also got a brief moment to chat with Syndergaard. He didn't seem too concerned about going from 11-1 to one of the worst teams in the MLB. Seemed pretty carefree to me. My buddy said, "He struts around like the horse that just won the Triple Crown. He owns the room." Maybe so, but isn't winning on the ball field more important?
Notice that Jacob deGrom wasn't out at the club with these guys, either.
PART III: Quality Time with Nimmo, Frazier & Wilmer
The very next day, Paul Kellam delivered. He met us at the gate with BP passes, and escorted us right down to the field. Callaway was one of the first Mets out of the dugout; he proceeded to play pepper with an assistant coach for a half hour. Good prep for the game.
Parallel with the first base line, bullpen coach
Ricky Bones -- former big league
pitcher for 7 different organizations -- pitched to the bullpen catcher. Bones had once tossed me a ball at Yankee Stadium during a subway series game, so we started having a little fun with him. We asked him to flip in a curveball; he smiled, and did. We asked for the slider, and he showed it off. As Ricky was wrapping up his faux bullpen session, Callaway walked by heading for home plate.
"Mickeyyy," I said with a nod of recognition.
Flashing a wide, warm smile, he nodded and waived to all of us.
"Ricky looks sharp today," I said, "you should use him in the 8th tonight!"
Mickey chuckled and said, "we'll get it done!" Callaway and Bones -- two more nice guys.
As the players finally crawled out of the dugout, one by one, we started to interact more. The night before, Rosario's 8th-inning homer was particularly impressive, coming off Archie Bradley, one of the elite right-handed relievers in the game. When Rosario loosened up near us, I said:
"Amed, what did you get last night, a hanging slider?"
He smiled widely and twisted his right hand, confirming the slider.
"Good piece," I added.
He smiled again and nodded in thanks. Another nice kid.
While on the topic of Rosario, there's something comforting about watching him up close. He just
looks like a professional ballplayer. Tall, lean, fit and smooth, Amed walks around like he belongs. I'm reminded of former
GM Jim Bowden's rant about Rosario, Jose Reyes and the Mets' handling of their shortstop position. Lifetime baseball men just know when they see a kid whose going to be around for a long time. Something about Rosario's mannerisms and facial expressions tell me that he's always expected to be here. I suppose that's good and bad.
Frazier, Smith, Nimmo, Conforto, Jose Bautista and Cabrera all proceeded to acknowledge us, though the latter appeared to be the least friendly of the bunch.
In the batter's box, we noticed a lot. If you've never been to major league BP, the players hit in small groups. Group 1 featured Cabrera, Frazier, Rosario and Plawecki. Maybe that simply qualifies as "infielders," but I was disgusted to see Plawecki in with the "1s" or the "A" group. A .222 lifetime hitter with only 7 homers in 607 plate appearances -- a
bona fide first-round bust. At the time he was hitting roughly .190 on the season.
At the plate, his BP was equivalent to a solid little leaguer. Lot of weak grounders and lazy pop ups. One of my buddies was a standout hitter in college, and he had to look away. It was shameful for a "professional" ballplayer.
As Frazier waltzed over to us for autographs, I had to open my big mouth:
"Todd, you have to teach KP how to hit," I insisted.
"KP?" he said with a puzzled look.
"Plawecki," I said, eyes rolling.
"Oh yeah, yeah, oh you guys know Plawecki?" he asked.
"No," I said, "he just can't hit. You gotta help him out. We can't take it anymore."
He laughed and said, "Nah, Plawecki's my boy. He's gonna be all right."
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| Here we are with Todd Frazier; perhaps the nicest pro I've ever met. |
It was the second time in two days I was a wise ass to a New York Met, and the second time they smiled and continued making conversation with me.
Obviously Rhame and Frazier have to be professionals to some extent -- though Rhame's leash is probably longer at the club -- but neither guy even
reacted negatively. If I were Rhame, I probably would have been like
why is this random midget making fun of me to my face? If I were Frazier, I probably would have been like
why is this clown making fun of my teammate? That's how he says hello?
But it's all smiles and laughs from these Mets. They do a lot of horsing around during BP, warm-ups and even during games when they are losing. It's just not the culture I'd want for a 31-43 club. I'd want them to be more serious about winning. Baseball is supposed to be a kid's game for kids. Not for professional ballplayers making millions upon millions.
I'm reminded of
Brad Pitt's speech in
Moneyball:
Is losing fun?
But I'm losing steam on this piece. It's just so hard for me to write about this team, and the organization itself. I just heard Callaway and
Sandy Alderson (don't forget to
read my piece on Sandy) have benched Rosario for
Jose Reyes. I mean, what can we say? Would any other organization in professional sports do that during a rebuilding year? I've
already tweeted about
this twice.
I was going to transition to a rah-rah segment about Nimmo -- who is a good-looking all-around ballplayer and true class act -- but there's just no point. The Mets lost both games when we were in Arizona. It's what they do...lose. Lose and manage the entire organization poorly.
Whatever. I give up.
