The Backward Plot

By Joe Janish
Posted Sunday, September 30, 2007

About two weeks ago, when the Mets were, oh, seven games ahead in the NL East, and pundits were discussing whether John Maine or Oliver Perez should be in the post-season rotation, the feeling was — okay. But it wasn’t great, nor overly joyous — mostly because the lead had swelled more due to the combination of other teams losing and the Mets playing last-place teams. Sure, they won nine out of ten during one stretch, but six of those games were against Houston and Cincinnati, two teams that had packed it in for the year. Those are games the team is expected to win.

When a challenge came along — for example, a series against the second-place Phillies — the Mets faltered, sputtered, and all but laid down to die. It was consistent with what had happened all year — when the Mets played the weak teams, they beat up on them. But when a good team came along, they lost. It’s hard to root for a bully.

Baseball fans are unlike football fans in that we don’t get all worked up once a week for three-hour ride on an emotional roller-coaster every Sunday. Sure, we want to see the team win, but don’t expect it to happen every day. We’re in it for the long haul, and want to be told a story along the way, with the players the central protagonists in a summer-long novel. Cardboard characters won’t cut it for us — we need deep, well-rounded individuals with whom we can have an emotional connection. They must have strengths, of course, but also flaws. We want to watch them cope with their weaknesses, and find a way to overcome them at the end.

However, the Mets have provided us the inverted novel. They started the season by sweeping the reigning World Champions — in their home park, no less. That sparked a 35-19 start to the season, sending the much-hated Braves to second place and leaving the laughable Phillies almost nine games behind. Laughable, of course, because of the silly remarks made by one Jimmy Rollins, the yappy little terrier of a shortstop who — chuckle, chuckle — said the Phillies were the “team to beat” in the NL East.

Who’s laughing now?

After that initial charge, the Mets have been remarkably ordinary, posting a precisely .500 record of 52-52. Ho-hum. Once they reached the peak of the mountain, the team slowly slid back down, day by day, week by week. For a while, the pitching would weave marvelous subplots, but the inabilities of the offense would close a chapter leaving a bad taste in the reader’s mouth. Then, the offense would lurch forward and drive the plot, but the bullpen would leave us hanging with open-endings and a string of dangling metaphors.

The characters themselves were mostly lifeless drones, uttering contrived phrases and exuding passionless personalities. A player would slump, but no one would pick him up. An injury would occur, and the replacement would perform adequately. A pitcher would get a key strikeout, then allow a home run. Through it all, the manager explained it all away with tired clichés and thoughtless babble. “Gotta turn the page,” he’d mumble, “we’ll get 'em tomorrow.”

It was all a lie, we found out at the end. The denouement that was supposed to fill Shea Stadium with dramatics in October had actually occurred in April. The tragic flaw that was supposed to be corrected by now still hasn’t been identified — and if it were, it’s too late in the book to overcome. We’re waiting now on the edge of our seats, turning the pages furiously, in hopes that the plot will change direction, that a hero will arrive and lead the story to a happy ending.

Wait, what is that? It’s the Cardinals — yes, the Cardinals — the same team with which this story began! Of course, that initial series in St. Louis was foreshadowing, how clever! And what’s this? It’s Pedro Martinez, practically fallen from the sky, coming to save the day! A cheap, dime store novel of a trick — the “deus ex machina” — but we’ll take it.

Hold it — is it really a deus ex machina we see? Or a simple crane, putting a girder in place at Citi Field?