It’s harrowing at times, and probably not entirely by design, but hats off to the threadbare Mets for demonstrating how inconsequential the whole notion of the closer role is this year, seeing as they’ve essentially stashed their worst pitchers there since the early injury to Bobby Parnell and are still hanging in there.
And as though to prove it, after Wednesday’s game (and Monday’s so-called “save”) they cashiered closer-of-the-moment Kyle Farnsworth so as to call up their own questionable relief talent (Josh Edgin) and save a few bucks. Who’s next in line? Who cares? It’s clear that without a true standout, and by avoiding the total gascans (or reassigning and or releasing them when appropriate) Whomever Pitches That Night will convert saves at about the same rate as That Other Guy. It’s true the Mets have had an abysmal conversion rate on saves this year (47%) but the leaguewide average isn’t much to look at either (64%) and you figure the process of competition and tinkering — particularly at the dawn of a wave of incoming pitching talent — will improve the performance over time. Right now they could turn to veteran mediocrities like Jose Valverde or Daiskue Matsuzaka — or promising-but-erractic performers like Jeurys Familia or Jennry Mejia. I have confidence that can all get about 64%. It really doesn’t matter.
At any rate, I’m not losing sleep over the whacking of Kyle Farnsworth, yet another complete disaster to have worn No. 44 for the Mets. Seriously this shirt from Jason Bay to John Buck to Lastings Milledge has belonged almost exclusively to losers and disappointments. Josh Edgin, last time we saw him, was the Mets first and still only No. 66.
Lamar Johnson will be wearing Johan’s old #57….if anyone actually cares.
I care. Thanks!
Buddy Carlyle is now in 44, only after ascertaining that repeated washings in hot water and strong detergent have removed the Farnsworth stink.