In the top of the ninth inning at Citi Field on Tuesday night, with the Mets beating the Reds 4-3 and Manny Acosta vying for a two-inning save, my wife turned to me.
“I kind of want them to score here so we can see Reyes hit again,” she said.
“Well…” I said, turning back to the action. I didn’t tell her, but I felt exactly the same way.
Reyes, who had already hit 790 feet worth of home runs in the game, was due up third in the bottom of the frame. And we both knew — as everyone knows — that he might not have many more at-bats in a Mets uniform.
The Reds did score, tying the game. Reyes came up with two out in the Mets’ half of the inning and singled on a half-swing dribbler down the third-base line, then sped to second when Aroldis Chapman fired the ball wide of first. Sprawled out and smiling on second base, Reyes lifted his arm to flash the spotlight at the Mets’ bench. A couple pitches later, he stole third.
The Mets failed to get Reyes home, so the teams kept playing. With every passing inning, we moved closer to the diamond — starting 27 rows up, then 15, then five. Finally we were right up against the field, close enough that the players stop looking like swift-moving man-shaped uniforms and began appearing like the real, breathing humans that they are.
By the 11th or 12th, the once sparse crowd had dwindled into an intimate gathering of slaphappy die-hards, all savoring the waning moments of the Mets’ 2011 campaign, willing to ignore the next day’s looming obligations to watch the Mets and Reds keep playing.
We — my wife and I, at least — didn’t want to let go, not of the game nor of the baseball season nor of that shortstop.
If only Justin Turner’s one-out, bases-loaded liner with the Mets down 5-4 in the bottom of the 13th eluded second baseman Todd Frazier, or if baserunner Josh Satin hung closer to the bag on the play, we would have been treated to another Reyes at-bat. Maybe even a walk-off hit.
But Frazier snared the ball off Turner’s bat and jogged to second for the double play, ending the game with Reyes left on deck.
People sometimes argue that the Mets shouldn’t re-sign Reyes this offseason or won’t be able to. They say it’s bad business to invest so much in a player with Reyes’ injury history and point to underwhelming returns on similar big-ticket free agents. Or they note the team’s financial straits and the market for 28-year-old elite shortstops and insist there’s just no way the Mets will be able to afford him.
Explaining any of that to a Mets fan watching Reyes on Tuesday night would be like reminding a tourist gaping at the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling about the unfavorable exchange rate. Some things transcend practicality. It’s impossible to consider matters so mundane when in the presence of anything so downright wonderful.
We can remember the times Reyes has been hurt, the spells where he’s struggled and some momentary lapses in his concentration. But when he’s playing baseball like he can, jetting around the bases or rifling the ball across the diamond or beaming on the top step of the dugout, it is a spectacle so enthralling it demands full attention. No time to think about prudent roster construction now: Jose Reyes is dancing off second.
In Wednesday’s season finale, Reyes led off with a bunt single against Edinson Volquez. He immediately left for a pinch-runner, preserving his league-leading .337 batting average. He walked off the field to a light cheer followed by a smattering of boos, presumably aimed at Terry Collins for cheating fans out of a few more of Reyes’ at-bats and for perhaps ending Reyes’ Mets career in such unceremonious fashion.
I can’t speak for those booing, but I suspect some of the disappointment upon Reyes’ departure stemmed from the knowledge that neither art nor science has yet figured a way to capture the way fans feel seeing Reyes round second and slide headfirst into third, the thrill of the dash and the joy upon its completion. We knew we needed to relish it Wednesday — just like we did Tuesday — because we might never have it again. And then before you could even find a beer guy Reyes was gone, slipped from the bearhug in which we hoped to hold him for eight innings more.
In the top of the 9th inning, fans began chanting for Reyes. First it was “please stay, Jose,” then “Jo-se Rey-es” then the familiar “Jose, Jose Jose Jose.” After Miguel Batista wrapped up his two-hit shutout, Reyes joined his team on the field, smiled at the crowd behind the Mets’ dugout, threw his hat to a fan, and walked down the steps into the tunnel to the clubhouse. Some fans stayed and cheered for a curtain call, and eventually Reyes came back.
Maybe in a few weeks, with some distance, I’ll be better equipped to draw up some more rational outline of how the Mets’ should approach negotiations with Reyes in November. But right now, fresh off watching three games at Citi Field in which Reyes went 7-for-11 with two homers and two steals, and daring to consider for a moment the prospect of Reyes doing his thing on a bigger stage for a better Mets club with a more capable supporting cast in just a couple of years, I can conclude only this:
Pay the man.
This year, the Mets gave 185 plate appearances to players with sub-.300 OBPs.
Tedquarters 