A heartfelt farewell to the 2024 Mets

The Mets gave us all a fun ride that we’ll be able to look back fondly on for years to come.

In the closing moments of the 2024 Mets’ magical run, right before it came to an unceremonious end in Game 6 of the National League Championship Series against the Dodgers, I remembered this thing I tweeted on May 22, exactly five months ago.

I had to look up what happened on May 22 because I couldn’t even tell you. It felt, as I’m sure many of us can attest to, like we’ve lived a hundred baseball lifetimes during these past five months, given the extreme twists and turns we experienced. As it so happens, the Mets lost 6-3 to the Guardians, a fairly ho hum and unremarkable defeat; it was their third loss of an eventual five-game losing streak. It wouldn’t even end up as the low point in their season, as the then 21-28 Mets lost five of the next six and seven of the next ten to find themselves 24-35 on June 2.

If I had to guess, what bothered me most at that exact moment was the prospect of staring down another long summer of meaningless, meandering Mets baseball. I came into this season with fairly low expectations and fully bought into the idea of this being a transition year with no particular hope of postseason baseball, but the idea of being left with boring, lifeless, irrelevant baseball—something I’ve experienced far too often in my Mets fandom—hit me full force around this time in the calendar.

Then something unexpected and wonderful happened. This team became good. But more than that, they became fun. They became unpredictable. They became magical. First it was Grimace. Then it was OMG. There was Seymour Weiner and the Rally Pimp and that hot dog eating dog (I can’t keep track of which of these came before Grimace and which came after; I think it’s before, before, after, if I’m remembering correctly). This all gave way to the Playoff Pumpkin. There were gimmicks galore. But the subtext of this new wacky reality was that this “unpleasant” and “uninteresting” team went from being a miserable watch to the talk of the town. They didn’t just win. They were the best team in baseball from June 1 onward. This may get painted by some as a Cinderella run, but more accurately, it was a talented collection of players that rallied together to rewrite their story with a happier ending (relatively speaking) than many of us anticipated.

I’m not so naïve as to ignore the fact that, in the end, flags fly forever, and the only thing that really lasts is the banner reading “World Series Champions.” At the start of the 2025 season, as has been the case for the past 38 years, the Mets will not be able to unveil one on Opening Day. But I also learned, probably too late in life, that consuming any sport, but especially baseball, with its intense 162-game schedule, from the sole perspective of “championship or bust” is silly and, more often than not, a fruitless and joyless endeavor.

Baseball is ultimately an entertainment venture; we tune in to supplement the things going on in our everyday lives with something to give us hope and to offer momentary escape. The Mets gave us memories to last a lifetime over the span of this five-month run. They gifted us experiences to reminisce about with friends, loved ones, and strangers alike. They offered us moments to latch on to and smile about at random times throughout our day. Howie Rose said this Mets team made him feel like he was 15 again, referencing the age he was when he celebrated the magical 1969 run. From Francisco Lindor’s homer in Atlanta to Pete Alonso’s homer in Milwaukee to the clinching celebration against the Phillies, this team instilled a level of belief in this fan base that is instrumental to the core of the Mets Fan Experience. It felt similar to what this team gave us in late 2015, when they felt incapable of losing. It felt like how it did when the 1999 Mets triumphantly emerged after over a decade of irrelevance.

They also laid the foundation for what could (and should) be a really solid team for years to come. I’ve experienced seasons where it felt like they were building towards sustained success, only to realize the team wasted their one shot at glory. It has begun to feel a bit like Lucy pulling the football away from Charlie Brown at the moment of the kick. But behind Steve Cohen’s dedicated ownership, inspired new front office leadership, and some terrific up-and-coming talent, it truly feels like this team is positioned for long-term relevance. In that case, a loss like last night’s, while still painful, doesn’t feel quite so final. It feels more like the end of a chapter—not quite the end of the book—and one that will hopefully have that ultimate happy ending.

I hate writing about this team in the past tense, because I grew to love this collection of players and looked forward to the ritual of tuning in to watch them every night. The Mets are a singular entity that we love and root for every year, regardless of who wears the jersey. After all, we are conditioned to root for the laundry. Whomever dons the orange and blue next year, we’ll be pulling for them to bring home that first World Series title since 1986. But it will be hard to replicate exactly what happened over these past few months. I know, as reality of the offseason starts to set in, that I’ll never watch this specific team again.

The camaraderie, the characters, everything about the 2024 Mets felt organic, which makes it all the more special. The Mets didn’t bring Grimace in after they started winning. They brought him in, and then they started winning. Jose Iglesias didn’t record and release “OMG” after they got good. He released the song, and then they got good. It’s hard to bottle up what they did here and recreate it, and losing that, as much as anything else, is a sad realization as the eulogies for the team continue to pour in. At the end of long playoff runs, I’m typically sad because the team fell short. This time around, I’m sad because I don’t have more time with this team to make more memories.

When play resumes in March 2025, there won’t be OMG signs after homers or fans donning Times Square-esque Grimace costumes chugging beers in the stands, but we’ll all fondly remember how silly it all was and how great the team played around it. Citi Field rocked again, like it hasn’t since 2015. The fanbase came alive, like a dormant beast emerging after a long slumber. The energy was palpable, and the larger baseball community took note that this is a team worth talking about. Overall, it just felt good to watch some meaningful Mets baseball, and getting this taste in 2024 only made me (and all of us) hungrier from some great baseball ahead. It hurts that it’s over, but this team will inhabit a very special section of the franchise’s lore when the story is told to future generations of fans.

So cheers to the 2024 Mets. A team of humor, whimsy, and joy. A team that reinvigorated my belief in this franchise and in its future. A team that made us all feel like kids again. A team with an MVP performance from their star shortstop, some big home runs from their home run-hitting first baseman, some unbelievable performances from their veteran pitchers, and some young stars who made a name for themselves on the biggest stage.

A team that, in the end, was pleasant and interesting.