The great American philosopher – and Hall of Fame fan – Reginald Martinez Jackson once contemplated the path from controversy to the redemption of baseball and opined, “If you have a bat in your hands, you can change history.” .
And while what Javier Baez and Francisco Lindor found in recent days was the size of a thumb compared to the outrage and skyscraper-level commotion that Reggie wrapped up in his heyday in New York, both those players like the Mets were sure they needed to rewrite.
Baez and Lindor apologized before the first of Tuesday’s two games against the Marlins. But in baseball, atonement will not occur with words, tweets, or thumbs pointed in one direction or the other. It will only come with skill and winner: more durable sports deodorant.
Baez’s skills, in particular, were shown in the ninth inning. And the Mets won.
“In short,” said Michael Conforto after a ninth-inning rally of five races for a 6-5 win, “I think winning cures it all.”
The win came in the middle of a day that was even odd for the Mets, especially considering he resumed a game he had started 142 days earlier before being suspended.
About an hour before the first release, Baez and Lindor stood in front of the shelter at Citi Field’s home and expressed their regret for the youthful gestures they revealed Sunday that were designed as symbolic boos to the fans of the house they were booing. the players.
Minutes after the game, Mets team president Sandy Alderson was a research group looking near the home plate for a diamond earring that had exploded when Baez fell head over heels with the winning race.
Among the Mets, most played a commendable game. The Marlins ran with Dom Smith’s arm to score two first runs. They came out 4 by 4 in base-stealing tests, one of which came when Patrick Mazeika came out on the court and Heath Hembree, unconscious, threw himself towards the plate. The Mets were unsuccessful in seven bats with runners in scoring position in eight innings. They finished 5-1. Even Luis Rojas would admit after the club was stateless.
But Brandon Nimmo hit a two-run homer goal to halve the deficit before Lindor retired. Two down. Smith, however, threw a single to the left and Pete Alonso doubled. The playoffs placed Baez in the scoring position, who had been poked at the plate when he collided with Jeff McNeil in the eighth. And he booed something more even after being hit by a throw.
Baez, however, had a bat in his hand. He had a chance to change the reaction and the story. He landed in the short stop hole and easily overtook him. Smith scored. Alonso was third. Baez was at the start with the winning race.
After Baez had been hit in the eighth, Conforto had gone missing with two men. In the excavation he collided with the bat and the helmet. But with a late entry, he also had a bat in his hand. The opportunity for a rewrite. He slid a sun to the left that delivered Alonso for the tie. Perhaps no major linker has better basic career instincts than Baez, which contributes to his nickname “The Wizard”; because there is magic within your game.
The move was in front of Baez, who went from first to third and saw Jorge Alfaro, turned into a catcher, turn the ball to the left. Third baseman coach Tony Tarrasco pointed to the third, but Baez never broke down, turning home. Conforto credited Baez with an “incredible conscience.”
Baez came in safely as the ball extended to catcher Alex Jackson. The Mets crowded out of the shelter. Lindor and Baez maintained a long victorious embrace. People who had booed Baez not long before and who mocked signs of thumbs down now cheered with their thumbs up. This is what they want. Baez, Lindor and the rest of the Mets should understand that now. Booing is about worrying so much, investing so much into the team (and not just financially). They want to cheer. They need a reason.
So that’s how you stop boos. This is the best excuse. You have a bat in your hand. Use your legs as a basic genius. You win.
Change the story.