Valhalla on the Pacific
Addy Baird muses on Noah Syndergaard, cheering for the laundry and naming your dog; Roger Cormier finds that Rays don't always make rainbows; Colleen Sullivan celebrates's Joe Maddon's demise
An Ode To Noah Syndergaard
By Addy Baird
The story of how I — a girl from Utah who’d literally never given a shit about sports before in her life — fell in love with the Mets begins with Noah Syndergaard throwing a fastball 98 miles an hour at Alcides Escobar’s head.
I was sitting along the first base line with my dad. He’d planned a trip to come visit me in October 2015, while I was a student at NYU, which turned out to overlap with the Mets’ home World Series games against the Kansas City Royals. I understood absolutely nothing about the sport and couldn’t have named a Mets player if my life depended on it, but there was something about the energy in the city at the time that I loved, and on a whim I asked my dad if he’d ever been to a World Series game. He hadn’t, and a few days later, there we were.
I remember getting off the 7 train and passing Gary, Keith, and Ron — who have for seven years since that day been my nightly baseball season companions — doing a pregame show outside of Citi. I turned to my dad and asked, “Who are those guys?” I remember walking into the stadium and seeing the field for the first time, in all its championship glory, and for reasons I couldn’t articulate, getting full body chills. I remember starting to notice a bunch of people at the game were wearing long, curly blonde wigs and discovering that it was a tribute to the Mets’ starting pitcher that evening, a 6’4” Norse god who threw 100 mph and loved drama. I felt glad to have worn my own long blonde hair down and curly that night without even knowing.
There is so much more to say about the night I was baptized as a Mets fan, including an unbreakable promise I made to a construction worker from Queens who sat in front of us at the game, but for that whole story, you’ll have to subscribe to make the Willets Pen e-book a reality. :) For now, with the Mets set to face their former ace on the road this week in Anaheim, I’ve been reflecting on that first strikeout that changed my life.
The first pitch, of course, was a ball, high and tight, which knocked Escobar to the ground. I remember watching it in person and thinking it was a rough mistake to start the game on, right as the stadium absolutely erupted. I had no idea that I was witnessing some incredible beef until the next day, when my dad showed me the clip of Syndergaard being asked about the pitch later that night.
“I wasn’t trying to hit the guy, that’s for sure,” he said at a press conference, tonelessly. “I just didn’t want him getting too comfortable. I mean, if they have a problem with me throwing inside, then they can meet me 60 feet, 6 inches away. I’ve got no problem with that.” By then, I was already head over heels in love.
In the years since, I’ve watched the clip of the broadcast of this first plate appearance more times than I can count. Fully sitting on the ground after jumping out of the way of the pitch, Escobar nods his head like, “OK, that’s how it’s going to be.” Then there’s a series of two perfect shots: First, there’s Mike Moustakas, screaming very clearly from the visitors’ dugout with a giant piece of bubblegum in his mouth. “Alright, bitch, alright,” he clearly says. “Fuck you!” Then it cuts to a shot of the Mets’ dugout, where a long-haired Jacob deGrom just smirks.
Syndergaard then throws the second pitch of the game, an 80 mph breaking ball in for a strike. “Now that’s dirty,” Harold Reynolds says, laughing. “Then you come back with a hook. It’s game on, no doubt about it.” 1-1 count. Escobar fouls off the next pitch, and it’s 1-2.
Pitch four is deadly. It’s a 99 mph fastball down the middle, which Escobar makes himself look like a fool trying to get a piece of. The stadium goes absolutely buckwild as Syndergaard calmly walks a half circle to come back to the mound. I’ve reviewed the clip, Zapruder-style, so many times, and there’s this one brief shot of Noah that is just… majestic.
The hair in the breeze. It’s art to me.
In the stadium, I hardly understood what I’d just seen. But being there as Citi Field absolutely lost its shit was a feeling I had never experienced before. I turned to my dad and I declared two things: “I understand sports now,” I said. “And” — as I pointed at Syndergaard — “I’m going to marry that man.”
Noah and I had several beautiful years together. Through my crush on him, I first learned the agony and ecstasy of the Mets. Soon, he and his long blonde locks were my phone wallpaper. I got so nervous watching him pitch, worried he’d hurt himself or get beat up, that I had to deep breathe through every start.
By the end of the 2016 season, I was in deep with this stupid team, and my family had decided to get a dog. He was a tiny vizsla puppy with a weak bark who joined our family on Christmas morning. My younger sisters and I cried, and then started to get in a big fight about what to name him. We threw around ideas, no one agreeing, until it hit me: His name was Thor.
I saw Syndergaard pick up a win on opening day in 2017, and later that April, we had parallel fates, when I broke my hip one day after he injured his lat and the Mets lost to the Nats, 23-5. I mourned my injury along with his. Later that summer, in an incident that makes the existence of Twitter and all its horrors worth it to me, I managed to start my own beef with Noah.
Syndergaard had a cameo in Game of Thrones as a member of the Lannister army, just briefly throwing a spear before getting destroyed by a fire-breathing dragon. At the exact same time, the Mets were getting the shit beat out of them by the Dodgers on Sunday Night Baseball, and the joke was too easy. I tweeted, with deep love, something along the lines of “Syndergaard having the same fate on ESPN as he is on HBO.” When I woke up the next morning, I had been blocked by Noah Syndergaard on Twitter.
I waged a campaign, with the assistance of ever-ready Mets Twitter allies, attempting to get Noah to unblock me, declaring I loved him and he didn’t understand. By 3:00 that afternoon, I was unblocked, but my real glory came the next day, when I woke up and discovered that Noah Syngergaard followed me on Twitter — I had less than 1,000 followers at the time — and a DM waiting from him. (I’m convinced he’s had me muted ever since, LOL.)
Noah’s final couple years with the Mets were injury-riddled (remember when he got hand, foot, and mouth disease?) and not quite as thrilling. At some point in 2018, I couldn’t deny it anymore: the newly short-haired Jacob deGrom, suddenly God in a Mets uniform, was my new favorite starting pitcher. Still, I was very sad to see Syndergaard go last year.
Thor the dog is almost six years old now, and he has grown into his name — he’s fast and funny and has a very powerful bark. I think of Noah and smile every time I visit my family and hang out with Thor. By now, I’ve learned to root for the laundry, but I’m glad Noah went to the Angels, an easy team to appreciate as a Mets fan, and where I hope to see him succeed.
Still, I wish we were seeing him succeed on our team. He’d be fun as hell and fit right in with these 2022 New York Mets, who are good, and who love a good brawl. They sure could use the pitching. I just love that dude… Now let’s go beat him.
Five Tampa Bay Rays Whose Lifestyle I Disagree With
By Roger Cormier
Jason Adam has two first names, the mark of a serial killer. Murder is a sin, and murder is the modus operandi for serial killers. Adam at any time could have changed one or both of his first names, but it was his choice not to. His middle name is Kendall, like the guy from Succession who has substance abuse issues. It’s probably cheaper to change or get rid of your middle name than your given name and surname. But maybe Jason Adam approves of Kendall Roy’s hedonistic lifestyle.
Jalen Beeks once threw two wild pitches while trying to intentionally walk someone. Those pitches resulted in the game-tying and game-winning runs. This happened in an NCAA Tournament game. His team, the Arkansas Razorbacks, were eliminated because of it. I really disagree with that kind of lifestyle, of letting your fellow man down like that. It was his choice to play baseball, and his parents had to see him fail so spectacularly instead of succeeding in a real job. Beeks is also left-handed, which as we all know is the trait of the wicked. And he has mephistophelian facial hair.
Brooks Raley currently plays for the Tampa Bay Rays, but before that he was a Chicago Cub, Cincinnati Red, Houston Astro, and get this, a Lotte Giant in Korea. I disagree with that lifestyle of loving them and leaving them, as the youths say. Back in my day people stayed put, no matter what, until the bitter, bitter end. Raley is also wicked-handed.
Jeffrey Springs attended South Point High School in Belmont, North Carolina. Their mascot was stolen from Colgate University and has been alleged to be racist. I can’t abide by that — stealing is a sin. Comedian Fortune Feimster was the best part of The Mindy Project and she is a fellow alumnus of South Point. Springs, as far as I know, has never acknowledged this, even though Feimster is hilarious. I disagree with not supporting a talented person with such a connection to oneself and making it about you. I can’t think of a single reason why Springs wouldn’t acknowledge Feimster.
Ryan Thompson is what they call a “submarine-style” pitcher. You know what The Lord and I call it? Underhanded.
All five of these pitchers have an endless painful trip to Hell awaiting them. But I want them to know they are all welcome and loved.
Behind Enemy (Base)Lines: Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim of Orange County of California of United States of America of Earth of Solar System of Milky Way of Local Group of Observable Universe of Theoretical Multiverse L3T5G0ME7S
By Colleen Sullivan
There are not a lot of things to do in Anaheim, outside of going to an Angels game or going to Disneyland. So, that’s two things to do in Anaheim. After a Thursday off-day, the Mets have rolled into town for the last leg of the West Coast trip. Hopefully, they spent Thursday riding Splash Mountain or something because the guys need a break, and also because now they’re going to do the other thing to do in Anaheim, where the Angels are several hours removed from ending a 14-game losing streak that included making their fans listen to Nickelback as at-bat music during Wednesday night’s shutout loss to the Red Sox.
Things have been going rough in the not-so-wild west for the boys in gray, too. The Mets split the series with the Dodgers, but were actually on a three-game win streak before dropping the last two to the Padres, 7-0 and 13-2. The off-day, I think they needed it.
Wayback Machine: 2017 Mets vs. Angels
The last time the Mets faced the Angels was a three-game set in 2017 and the Mets were already out of contention in May. Those were dark days, the ones two years removed from the World Series loss to the (gag) Royals. An injury-riddled, 92-loss season was Terry Collins’ before he retired… and things got really grim. Members of the 2015 World Series run were still around, but the team as a whole wasn’t up to snuff. It wasn’t all bad though. Jacob deGrom was healthy enough to start 31 games, including the opener of the series against the Angels, who still had Mike Scioscia managing.
Keeping the Angels from getting a runner past second base until the seventh inning, deGrom was dominant, allowing four hits and striking out nine before turning things over to Jerry Blevins, Paul Sewald, and Addison Reed for the final six outs. He also had the rather dubious honor of ending a 17-game stretch where no Mets starters got an out in the seventh inning. In some lighter news, Mike Trout is from Millville, N.J., and his parents made the deceptively long trip from South Jersey to Queens to watch him play. It’s cute when parents are in the stands.
Game two of the series was another Mets win, but not without a scare in the contest that made Collins the Mets’ longest-tenured manager, breaking Davey Johnson’s previous record of 1,012 games. Zack Wheeler started off nicely but quickly came unraveled in the sixth, coughing up half of a four-run lead. In the ninth, after the Mets got three insurance runs, Neil Ramirez quickly showed why the Giants had waived him and the Blue Jays had released him, but not why the Mets had signed him, giving back all three before Reed bailed him out.
In the finale, the Angels stomped all over the Mets, 12-5, with Trout’s homer highlighting the pounding of Tommy Milone. Ramirez did bounce back with a scoreless frame.
News on the Angels (where Colleen laughs about Joe Maddon):
In my most favorite baseball news this season: noted annoying weirdo and managerial “genius” Joe Maddon got fired. It’s not even the All-Star break and the guy who regularly considers himself the smartest guy in the room has been fired. I don’t care what else happens this week because JOE MADDON GOT FIRED. The only thing that makes me sad about this is that I don’t get to watch Buck Showalter stare him down all weekend.
Now, you’re thinking: “But Colleen, it’s not like he was the Mets manager. Or even the White Sox manager”. Comrades, that’s not the point. For us non-Cub Chicago fans, Maddon was the absolutely unbearable manager of the Cubs through their World Series berth and a little bit after (2015-2019 to be exact). I feel comfortable surmising that Cubs fans will build a statue for him somewhere around Clark and Addison. His quality advice to the team included “Try not to suck”, which was made into t-shirts because a team with Kris Bryant, Anthony Rizzo, Javier Baez, Kyle Schwarber, Willson Contreras, Jorge Soler, and peak Jon Lester, Jake Arrieta, and Kyle Hendricks actually managed to win despite him. He also had the bright idea to try and face off with Clint Hurdle.
Alas, he was not long for Anaheim. When all is said and done, Maddon lasted approximately a year and a half. His storied journey included COVID-19, a 2.0% sac bunt rate in 2021, and floating the idea (publicly) of moving Trout from center field to corner outfield without talking to the All-Star first (guess what ended up not happening). A 12-game losing streak was what did him in and Maddon lost his RV parking privileges in the Angel Stadium lot on June 7. Of course, there has been analysis as to whether or not the Hall of Fame is a possibility, but he will remain stamped in the history books as the guy who, despite having terrible bullpen management and despite being an enormous whiner, took a team from a drought of 108-years to the World Series.