When I first envisioned what “Rounding the Diamond” could be in the spring of my first year at Georgetown University, I thought it would be clever — albeit a bit self-indulgent — to weave my favorite team, the New York Mets, into every article I wrote.
However, it wasn’t until I started occasionally walking with my hands linked behind my back, museum style, that my wisdom grew. I then ruled that this practice was misguided and ethically questionable at best.
What about the pinch-full of loyal readers (hi, Mom) who follow my column? What if they caught on to my trickery and hated themselves for it?
So the years passed, my grades dipped and I somehow got younger on my driver’s license. I wrote article after article with no mention of my Mets, and my soul — unfulfilled and battered — yearned to write about the team I follow stronger than any religion.
So please, indulge me, and I will tell the tale of the best baseball game I’ve ever seen. A game of epic proportions, of triumph, of heartbreak, of cruelty and total tomfoolery, with the season — no, more than that, everything — at stake. It was also this past Monday.
In fair Cobb County, Ga., ravaged by Hurricane Helene, we lay our scene. Two teams — the Atlanta Braves and the New York Mets — set to play the final two games of their series, which was postponed and morphed into a doubleheader a day after the season ended for everyone else and just a day before the playoffs.
And me? I was stuck watching the most important game of the Mets’ season on a split browser during my “Game Theory” class, with my other browser being the class notes (don’t worry, Mom). Now, I’ve only taken “Game Theory” for about a month, but let me try to explain the many scenarios, scenarios, scenarios and implications of these back to back games.
With the San Diego Padres already having clinched the top National League wild card position, the final two wild card spots were down to three teams — the Arizona Diamondbacks (D-Backs), the Braves and, of course, the Mets.
The D-Backs, who play their home games in a roofed stadium, had already completed their season on schedule. They now needed either the Mets or Braves to sweep the doubleheader to secure a playoff spot and eliminate the losing team. The Mets and Braves only needed to win one game of the doubleheader as both teams held a tiebreaker against the D-Backs.
It’s fair to say that all eyes were on this doubleheader (yes, even T. J. Eckleburg’s). My eyes, however, had the difficult task of timing each pitch, living and dying with everything that happened. This game meant too much not to.
And there it was, in the bottom of the third inning of the first game, just as I was maybe about to understand how to solve extensive form Nash equilibria, the Braves struck first. A 2-run Ozzie Albies home run. An absolute gut punch.
But, my gut wasn’t free from its pummeling. No, Braves pitcher Spencer Schwellenbach made sure of that as he sliced through the Mets lineup like that forgotten avocado in the back of my fridge, dominating for seven innings. Mushy — that’s how I felt after Ramón Laureano’s homer in the bottom of the sixth brought the score to 3-0. I couldn’t stretch my heart for another three hours. The Mets had to win this game.
This wasn’t the same Mets team that I had watched all year long. It wasn’t the team that was once eleven games under .500, whose resilience, grit and sheer magic — Grimace or not — propelled them to hold the best record in MLB since June 1.
Just like that, the fastest “Game Theory” class I’ve ever attended ended. Without missing a beat, I switched the game to my phone, going full screenager until I reached Lauinger Library to print my mail-in ballot application. Some will argue that this change of scenery was the turning point in the game, but Tyrone Taylor’s double after an 11-pitch at-bat in the top of the seventh — forcing the unhittable Schwellenbach out of the game — was the real spur. Fransico Alvarez, Starling Marte, Francisco Lindor, Jose Iglesias and Brandon Nimmo all followed with 1 clutch hit after another. And before I had reached the top of the Lau steps, the Mets suddenly held a commanding 6-3 lead with only two innings of play remaining.
Phew. With lockdown closer Edwin Diaz put into the game in the eighth with a 3 run lead, I could finally try to find a working printer in Lau without … WAIT THE BRAVES JUST TOOK THE LEAD?
In the wise words of my text messages to a friend, “Kill me.”
It’s now the top of the ninth, and I’m now in the Lau 5 stairway, home of the only working printer in the building. Francisco Lindor, the team’s MVP who is playing through serious back pain, is at the plate with the tying run on first base. And he goes deep, carrying the team on his bad back. The Mets win 8-7.
My dad, the reason I am a Mets fan, is quick to call me — both of us on the verge of tears because we know it’s all about the Mets. It always will be.
Surprisingly, my notes during “Game Theory” turned out decent. Not great, but decent.
