Sometimes, when you’re living in a moment, you don’t realize how good something can be.
An example: I spent my high school years complaining about how miserable I was. I spent my college years complaining about how much different school was compared to my expectations. Once I got out of both, however, I discovered that I enjoyed both more than I consciously realized. Sure, I wasn’t the most popular guy in either place, but I had friends, I had fun, and I made few enemies.
Before Oliver Perez’s release became official earlier today, I was thinking about what his most endearing memory in a Mets uniform would be. I assumed that it would be some appearance in the last two years where he couldn’t find the plate with his fastball, where he looked like an A-ball pitcher against the Pirates, where he embarrassed himself and the four script letters on the front of his jersey.
But that wasn’t what first came to mind.
No, my most endearing memory of Oliver Perez’s Mets tenure comes from one October night in 2006, when the then-26-year-old Mexican lefty was thrust into pitching in the biggest game of the Mets season, a Game 7 to determine whether or not the team would play in the World Series. (In hindsight, can anyone believe that the Mets almost pitched Dave Williams in this game?) What sticks in my brain is Perez’s reaction when Endy Chavez single-handedly kept the Mets in that game on that ball Scott Rolen hit over the Shea Stadium fence. It started with a spontaneous reaction of excitement that encapsulated what Mets fans were feeling in that moment, and ended with some sort of Tiger Woods arm-swing dance and run off the mound.
Forget that Chavez basically bailed Perez out with that catch. It was a great moment, and it automatically put Perez in the good graces of Mets fans, even after Aaron Heilman blew the entire season three innings later.
Sure, Perez undid all of that good will after Omar Minaya handed him a 3-year, $36 million deal he couldn’t possibly live up to before the 2009 season. His ERA over the past two years was 6.81, his strikeout to walk ratio was under 1, and he consistently refused to do the right thing by going down to the minor leagues. Forget all that. If you’re a Mets fan, the last two years shouldn’t exist in your brain anyway.
Yesterday, I wrote an article saying that it was pointless for the Mets to bring Luis Castillo into spring training, since they were going to cut him anyway. Castillo, I argued, was still capable of playing in some capacity on a major league roster, but that wasn’t going to be with the Mets. Keeping him in spring training worked against both him and the organization.
Perez, too, shouldn’t have made it to spring training, but for a different reason: everyone knew that he wasn’t capable of helping a major league team in any capacity. Perez himself seemed like he knew it with his comments today. I don’t think I’ve seen a pitcher look as clueless as he did on a pitching mound this spring, unless you include an All-Star game appearance I made during Northport little league when I was in fifth grade. (The only reason I didn’t give up a walk-off grand slam was because I had a center fielder taller than the fence.)
When you consider Perez’s last two years of work, it seems impossible to remember that he put up several decent major league seasons in the not-so-distant past. Once traded for Brian Giles as a prospect, he never lived up to the promise he showed in 2004 with Pittsburgh, when he posted a 2.98 ERA and led the league with 11.0 strikeouts per nine innings. Of course, he was horrible the next two years, but his two emergency NLCS starts allowed him to revitalize his career in 2006, to the point where he put up good enough seasons in 2007 and 2008 to keep him in the majors. (Let’s not forget that the Mets trusted him enough to start the last game of 2008, and, unlike Tom Glavine, he left them in a position to win.)
But the contract, a panic move after Derek Lowe spurned the Mets for the Braves, was a disaster. This writer knew it would be from the moment he first heard about it, even though some people were defending it at the time. (No one will admit to it now, I’m sure.) I worried that Perez would regress and suffer the same mental struggles that derailed him in Pittsburgh. I don’t think I knew things would go as badly as they did, but there were plenty of warning signs that should have told Omar Minaya to stay away. He didn’t, and now the Mets are here.
Perez and Castillo were easy targets for Met fan ire over the last two years, and they felt plenty of it. Now they’re both gone, and the Mets’ prospects for 2011 look no brighter. (As I write this, Mike Pelfrey is facing his eighth batter in the fourth inning of a spring training game without getting an out.) Mets fans will probably find a new target to whine about, point at for the team’s troubles, make it seem like the team will be much better without (Carlos Beltran looks like the next logical target). It won’t change the fact that the team will be lucky to stay out of the NL East cellar this year, but it is a step in the right direction, at least.
Castillo, predictably, latched on to a new team quickly, finalizing a minor league contract with the Phillies earlier today. The Mets could see a lot of Castillo this year, particularly with Chase Utley’s knee problems uncertain. Perez’s major league future is unclear. He hasn’t proved that he can get batters out in the last two and a half years. His fastball was topping out at 86 in spring training, and when that’s coupled with remarkable control problems, it makes a pitcher’s value approach nil at any level. Perez’s major league career is likely over; his baseball career at any level could be as well.
Mets fans will likely look back at Perez’s tenure with scorn and disdain, comparable to the tenures of Bobby Bonilla (twice), Roger Cedeño (part 2), Vince Coleman (felt like twice), Mo Vaughn, and Castillo. They’ll see only the bad, see the pitcher who failed spectacularly after signing his contract, which will arguably be seen the worst in Mets history. The name will likely inspire feelings of anger whenever it’s brought up in the future.
Me? I’ll remember all that. But the most endearing moment will be from that Game 7, remembering the reaction to Chavez’s catch, feeling like I was dancing off that mound with him. In that moment, the Mets felt invincible.
Since then, they’ve been anything but.