LOS ANGELES — The plastic orange sign, the symbol of the season, remained untouched and upturned 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, celebration raged beneath a fountain of fireworks. Some Mets stayed to watch, to experience the pain of a missed opportunity in full color. Others, like superstar shortstop Francisco Lindor, avoided the scene entirely, burrowing swiftly into the clubhouse. Behind them all, the team’s enormous plastic OMG sign lingered, like a tangerine shadow on a sable night.
Earlier in the season, “OMG” erupted into a slogan for the Mets after second baseman Jose Iglesias released a song of the same name. The song went viral, as 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 for every game, snapping pictures with it after each home run.
But in the end, after the final out and exhale, it just sat there. Flipped on its head, 90 degrees counterclockwise, ignored amidst the madness and sadness.
Eventually, a Mets clubhouse attendant came to retrieve the thing. With a bundle of catcher’s gear under his left arm, he picked up the sign with his right and carried it down the tunnel, out of sight, perhaps for good.
It was here, in the town of make-believe, beneath swaying palm fronds and a cotton-candy sky, that the 2024 Mets ran out of magic.
Actually, they just ran out of pitching.
One of the most exhilarating ball clubs in recent memory, a group that thrived on chaos and improbability and no sleep and good vibes, fell victim to the realpolitik of baseball: Outs need to come from somewhere.
These Mets will be remembered as a thrill ride, but the story of their final demise was strikingly simple, almost … boring. Starter Sean Manaea, who blossomed into an ace after a midseason mechanical change, allowed five Dodgers to score and recorded only six outs. A beleaguered bullpen, overtaxed and undermanned, battled admirably but leaked runs. New York’s offense chipped away and threatened a comeback numerous times but couldn’t land the counterpunch it needed.
And so, the Dodgers are going to the World Series, to play the New York Yankees in a bicoastal showdown for the ages. The Mets, meanwhile, are headed home, to spend their winter wondering what could have been while simultaneously appreciating what was.
Because while it ended in disappointment, this team accomplished something meaningful.
Left for dead at the end of May, the Mets won more games than any other team the rest of the season. Powered by a grab bag of schticks and improved starting pitching, they rocketed up the standings and into the playoff picture. Along the way, they discovered a feeling and shared it with their fan base. They conjured moments — Pete Alonso’s last-gasp homer in wild-card Game 3, Francisco Lindor’s grand slam in NLDS Game 4 — that will last a lifetime. Both for those who paid witness and for those who did the conjuring.
“Those moments,” Alonso, set to become a free agent this winter, told Yahoo Sports after Game 6. “Not just individually but collectively, that’s the s*** you live for. That’s the s*** you play 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 endure the winter, but many will wither in the frost. Grimace can’t live forever. Pumpkins, with time, turn to rot. It’s harder to sport an OMG sign if José Iglesias plays somewhere else.
Year-to-year turnover is inevitable for any team, but these Mets might look drastically different come February. This is not a particularly young roster. Sixty percent of the pitching rotation — Jose Quintana, Luis Severino and Sean Manaea — will hit the open market, as will Alonso, Iglesias, Harrison Bader, J.D. Martinez, Jesse Winker and Ryne Stanek. More than $175 million in payroll is set to come off the books. Much of that was committed to players who did not finish this season on the roster.
President of baseball operations David Stearns has a fascinating winter ahead. Perhaps Alonso returns, perhaps owner Steve Cohen opens his checkbook for Juan Soto, perhaps Stearns opts to redux his approach from last offseason and focus on depth over impact. Either way, despite the impending gloom of change, this franchise is in a healthy place. Lindor is a cornerstone superstar. Vientos’ breakout feels real. The farm system is solid. And it’s all being run by an invested leadership group that (1) deeply cares and (2) seems to know what it’s doing, which, for Mets fans, hasn’t always been the case.
No matter how the winter goes, it’s a near certainty that the Mets will enter spring training with a number of new faces and, eventually, new gimmicks.
That reality — that what was will not continue to be, that the rollercoaster ride was over — seemed to hit a number of Mets particularly hard after their Game 6 loss.
When reporters entered the clubhouse, catcher Francisco Alvarez was hunched over on the floor, his back against a wall, tears swelling in his eyes. Outfielder Brandon Nimmo consoled him, offering words of encouragement. Lindor, still in his baseball pants, sat on the ground next to Iglesias’ locker and stared blankly into space. Vientos conducted his media conference in an atypically soft tone. The usual pitter-patter of a season’s end echoed around the room in a symphony of high-fives and hugs.
After a while, a group of Mets pitchers gathered in a corner. Some held beers. Others swished 40-proof in double-stacked soda cups. Chatter filled the circle, eulogizing the beauty of the ride amidst the wreckage. In a brief pocket of silence, one pitcher leaned back and wondered aloud, “Man, how long ago does spring training feel?”
Such was the wonder of this Mets season. This team lived many lives: from discarded trainwreck to beloved Cinderella. When it finally ended, all the memories flooded back in an instant, bringing bleary eyes and long silences. Many of the Mets will spend their evening drowning sorrows together 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 most likely to remember from the whirlwind Mets season, reliever Ryne Stanek told Yahoo Sports, “I don’t even remember half the s*** that happened. Because we’ve had so much s*** happen that it doesn’t even compute.
“It doesn’t feel real.”
