If you have a Mets fan in your life — or if yours is, you know, a Mets life — then you have surely heard (or uttered) the grumblings. Let’s put it this way: David Stearns isn’t yet having the kind of rookie year that Fred Lynn had with the Red Sox in 1975. He hasn’t been Edward Norton, showing up an instant star in “Primal Fear.”
It’s been … well, again, honesty is the best policy: It’s been quiet.
The Mets have made some additions, notably plucking a few familiar names out of the Yankees Alumni Association, Luis Severino and Harrison Bader. They signed Joey Wendle, a serviceable utility man. They made two minor league deals that might have been exciting in different contexts: Trayce Thompson (if the Knicks had gotten his brother, Klay, as part of the deal) and Jose Iglesias (if this was 2015).
There have been others. None of them caused a wraparound line to form at the Citi Field box office.
And, well, Mets fans, mostly I believe, are trying to give Stearns some breathing room. There is the logical part of their brains that reminds them: This is not a man without a track record. Mets fans would trade the past half-dozen baseball seasons with Brewers fans straight-up eight days a week.
Still, these are fans. Fans are happiest when they aren’t forced to be logical. So here are the best observations I’ve heard so far in reference to the Mets’ new baseball boss.
- Freddy Coupon Jr. (that one made me laugh).
- Dumpster Dave.
- Small-market Stearns.
- “The Brewers are Shotz Brewery,” one wag said. “The Mets are supposed to be Heineken.”
You get the gist.
Is any of that fair? Of course it’s not fair. Stearns hasn’t been on the job long enough to have business cards. All Stearns has to do if he wants an idea of how fair the job can be is look across town, at Brian Cashman, who has been GM of the Yankees since 1998, won four championships on his watch, been to the playoffs in 21 of those 25 years … and when you hear Yankees fans talk about Cashman it’s almost like they’re describing Connor Roy.
That is the beauty and the brutality of baseball and New York City. Right now, we have the Knicks and the Rangers to occupy our attention, and maybe St. John’s, and if we’re lucky maybe they can serve as diversions through the spring. But until proven otherwise, baseball is king in New York. Baseball matters in New York 24/7/365 (and, this year, 366) days a year.
So Mets fans … well, they’re tapping their watches.
A lot of them are wondering: “Is this all there is?”
And part of that is perception. There’s been a litany of Mets GMs who’ve made immediately flashy moves. Omar Minaya was hired, and about five minutes later signed Pedro Martinez and Carlos Beltran; Brodie Van Wagenen waited 10 before dealing for Robbie Cano and Edwin Diaz. Jared Porter was barely on the job for half an hour and traded for Francisco Lindor, and though these were the results of Steve Cohen emptying a pocket of his vast vault even Billy Eppler can say the Mets signed both Max Scherzer and Justin Verlander on his watch.
Stearns? Stearns has signed Sean Manaea.
Here’s something to think about though: Two notable GMs in Mets history were a little more patient than that, believing the franchise’s foundation and infrastructure needed strengthening. One was Frank Cashen, who four years into the job still hadn’t overseen better than a fifth-place team. One was Sandy Alderson, who in his first four years finished fourth, fourth, third and a distant second.
Patience prevailed in both those instances. Also, both those instances, the team was in a lot more dire straits than it is now.
There is no reason to believe it can’t here, too. Cashen and Alderson had previously built champions in Baltimore and Oakland. Stearns built the only sustained success the Brewers/Seattle Pilots have ever had. It guarantees nothing. It should offer at least a small benefit of the doubt.
But this is baseball. This is New York. The Mets didn’t get Shohei Ohtani. They didn’t get Yoshinobu Yamamoto. Pete Alonso’s status is uncertain. And freshest in the memory is the 75-87 calamity of 2024, which makes a fair chunk of the Mets portion of New York sound like they’re based somewhere between Kansas City and St. Louis, deep in the heart of Missouri:
Show me.
