LOS ANGELES — The plastic orange sign, the symbol of the season, remained untouched and upside down on the dugout bench.
One by one after Sunday’s 10-5 loss in Game 6 of the NLCS, the vanquished New York Mets retreated into the bowels of Dodger Stadium. On the diamond, celebrations raged under a fountain of fireworks. Some Mets stayed to watch, to experience the pain of a missed opportunity in color. Others, like superstar shortstop Francisco Lindor, avoided the scene entirely and quickly pushed their way into the clubhouse. Behind them all, the team’s huge plastic OMG sign lingered, like a tangerine shadow on a saber night.
Earlier this season, “OMG” exploded into a catchphrase for the Mets after second baseman Jose Iglesias released a song of the same name. The song went viral, and so did the Mets. The phrase soon found its way onto hats, shirts and, of course, a giant plastic sign that the team brought into the dugout before every game and took photos with it after every home run.
But finally, after the last exhale and exhale, it just stayed there. Turned upside down, 90 degrees counterclockwise, ignored amid the madness and sadness.
Finally, a Mets clubhouse attendant came to pick the thing up. With a bundle of catcher’s gear under his left arm, he picked up the sign with his right arm and carried it into the tunnel, out of sight, perhaps for good.
It was here, in the make-believe town, under swaying palm fronds and a cotton candy sky, that the 2024 Mets ran out of magic.
Basically, they just weren’t pitching anymore.
One of the most exciting ball clubs in recent memory, a group that thrived on chaos and improbability, no sleep and good vibes, fell victim to baseball’s realpolitik: outs have to come from somewhere.
These Mets will be remembered as a thrill ride, but the story of their eventual demise was remarkably simple, almost…boring. Starter Sean Manaea, who evolved into an ace after a midseason mechanical substitution, allowed five Dodgers to score and recorded just six outs. A beleaguered bullpen, overloaded and undermanned, fought admirably but leaked runs. New York’s offense failed and threatened a comeback several times, but was unable to deliver the counterpunch it needed.
And so the Dodgers head to the World Series, to play the New York Yankees in a bicoastal showdown for the ages. The Mets, meanwhile, head home to spend the winter wondering what could have been while appreciating what was.
Because even though it ended in disappointment, this team achieved something meaningful.
Left for dead in late May, the Mets won more games than any other team for the rest of the season. Powered by a grab bag of schticks and improved starting pitching, they rocketed up the standings and into the playoffs. Gradually they discovered a feeling and shared it with their fan base. They evoked moments – Pete Alonso’s last gasp in wild-card Game 3, Francisco Lindor’s grand slam in NLDS Game 4 – that will last a lifetime. Both for those who bore witness and for those who conjured.
“Those moments,” Alonso, who was set to become a free agent this winter, told Yahoo Sports after Game 6. “Not only individually, but also collectively, that’s the s*** you live for. That’s the s*** you’re playing for.”
Some of that collective will reunite in Queens next year and beyond, but the essence of the 2024 Mets cannot be replicated.
Sure, some gimmicks will survive the winter, but many will wither in the frost. Grimace cannot live forever. Pumpkins rot over time. It’s harder to wear an OMG sign when José Iglesias is playing elsewhere.
Year-over-year turnover is inevitable for any team, but these Mets could look drastically different come February. This is not a particularly young selection. Sixty percent of the pitching rotation – Jose Quintana, Luis Severino and Sean Manaea – will hit the open market, as will Alonso, Iglesias, Harrison Bader, JD Martinez, Jesse Winker and Ryne Stanek. More than $175 million in payroll is expected to disappear from the books. A large portion of that was intended for players who did not end up on the roster this season.
President of baseball operations David Stearns has a fascinating winter ahead. Maybe Alonso returns, maybe owner Steve Cohen opens his checkbook for Juan Soto, maybe Stearns chooses to scale back his approach from last season and focus on depth over impact. Regardless, despite the looming gloom of change, this franchise is in a healthy place. Lindor is a cornerstone superstar. The Vientos breakout feels real. The agricultural system is solid. And it’s all led by an invested leadership group that (1) cares deeply and (2) seems to know what they’re doing, which hasn’t always been the case for Mets fans.
Regardless of how the winter goes, it’s almost certain that the Mets will enter spring training with some new faces and, ultimately, new gimmicks.
That reality — that what was will not last, that the rollercoaster ride was over — seemed to hit some Mets especially hard after their Game 6 loss.
As reporters entered the clubhouse, catcher Francisco Alvarez was hunched over on the ground, his back against a wall, tears welling in his eyes. Outfielder Brandon Nimmo comforted him with words of encouragement. Lindor, still in his baseball pants, sat on the floor next to Iglesias’ locker and stared blankly into space. Vientos conducted his media conference in an atypically soft tone. The usual end-of-season chatter echoed through the room in a symphony of high fives and hugs.
After a while, a group of Mets pitchers gathered in a corner. Some had beer in hand. Others drank 40-proof in double-stacked soda cups. Chatter filled the circle, praising the beauty of the ride amid the wreckage. In a brief moment of silence, a pitcher sat back and wondered aloud, “Man, how long ago does spring training feel?”
That was the miracle of this Mets season. This team has lived many lives: from discarded train wreck to beloved Cinderella. When it was finally over, all the memories came flooding back in an instant, causing watery eyes and long silences. Many of the Mets will spend their evening together drowning in sorrow as a long goodbye. They will tell stories to relive the magic.
And tomorrow they will all go their separate ways.
Asked what he’s likely to remember about the Mets’ whirlwind season, reliever Ryne Stanek told Yahoo Sports, “I can’t even remember half the things that happened. Because we’ve been through so many things that it can’t even be calculated.
“It doesn’t feel real.”
