BEFORE EVERY GAME, Francisco Lindor flits around the New York Mets‘ clubhouse, stopping at the lockers of green rookies and grizzled veterans, players from the United States and Venezuela and Japan and Cuba and the Dominican Republic. It’s his ritual now, one performed out of equal parts desire and duty.
“I look forward to it every day,” Mets left-hander Sean Manaea said. “The consistency, the positivity — he really is like that every day.”
He does it after the game, too, regardless of the circumstances, and whether it’s with a pat on the back, a dap, a joke, a compliment, a wisecrack, a question or an embrace, Lindor seemingly manages the impossible: marrying extreme levels of wholesomeness with a sincerity that keeps it from growing cheesy. Earlier this month, after the Seattle Mariners held the Mets to one run in a three-game sweep, Lindor “is just walking around and saying: turn the page, enjoy the flight, enjoy your families, we’ll get ’em Tuesday,” said Mets reliever Adam Ottavino. “He is just hugging everybody, slapping five with everybody, making sure that we’re all together. Because that’s exactly who he is.”
To those unfamiliar with the rhythms of a baseball season, Lindor’s dismissal of a bad series could suggest a lack of care or urgency. In reality, the opposite is true. Lindor is the metronome. Now 30 years old and in his 10th major league season, he is acutely attuned to what the Mets’ clubhouse needs at any given moment — and, in fact, those inside it give him credit for launching the team back into playoff contention after a hellacious tailspin earlier this year.
This position in Queens didn’t necessarily come easily for Lindor. After six drama-free years with Cleveland, his first season with the Mets in 2021 saw Lindor wrap his hands around the neck of his double-play partner in the tunnel during a game, flash a thumbs-down sign to fans who had booed his substandard performance and generally fail to ingratiate himself in the manner of a star who signed a 10-year, $341 million contract. The next year, he was featured prominently in the Mets’ renaissance as they won 101 games. Last season, they flopped, having baseball’s highest-ever payroll at more than $400 million but finishing nowhere close to even a .500 record. And now, in a year when little was expected, Lindor has grown into the best version of himself.
Which is saying something, because for a decade now, Lindor has been one of the finest players in baseball, building the sort of résumé to pave a path 200 miles from Queens to Cooperstown. He is nearly halfway to 3,000 hits and 500 home runs. He plays shortstop with grace and flash and consistency, with precious-metal gloves — two gold, one platinum — to show for it. In all of baseball history, only four shortstops finished their first 10 years with more Baseball-Reference wins above replacement (WAR) than Lindor’s 48.0: Arky Vaughan, Alex Rodriguez, Cal Ripken Jr. and Pee Wee Reese.
Since 2015, Lindor ranks third among all MLB players in FanGraphs WAR behind only Mookie Betts and Mike Trout. And both by WAR and impact, this could be his greatest season yet. He tops the National League leaderboard, ahead of Shohei Ohtani and Ketel Marte, is one of seven players to have not missed a game this season and Thursday became the first shortstop ever with three seasons of 25 home runs and 25 stolen bases. He has found the sweet spot of personal and professional growth, embracing the responsibilities of the face of a New York sports franchise while staying true to who he aspires to be. And with it have come the MVP chants at Citi Field, three letters that tell as much of a story about who he is as what he has done.
“It brings a smile to my face because it would be a dream,” Lindor said, “but I understand we’ve still got a long way to go, and I’ve got to put up way better numbers. If the fans feel that way, it’s fantastic. But I got to continue to climb. I got to continue to help the team win.
“MVPs are not won in June and July. MVPs are won in August and September.”
SINCE LINDOR ARRIVED in a January 2021 blockbuster trade, the Mets have gone through five heads of baseball operations and three managers. Last year, over the course of just eight months, the team went from all-in to fire sale. Then the hiring this winter of David Stearns, widely regarded as one of the game’s best executives, brought a leader to a front office that under new owner Steve Cohen had grown increasingly efficient and modernized. Stearns’ hiring of Carlos Mendoza to run the on-field product was the final touch of stability for an operation that had spent most of the previous three decades foundering, practically capsizing, on account of an almost intrinsic ability to blunder.
Mendoza, a baseball lifer who had spent the previous four years as New York Yankees bench coach, understood his first priority as manager: ensure he and Lindor were on the same page. Mendoza had seen firsthand how Aaron Judge‘s support of Aaron Boone paid dividends inside the clubhouse — and that would be even more true in one with as many young players as the Mets expected to rely on.
“I needed him to trust me and I needed to get to know him,” said Mendoza, who also offered Lindor the chance to focus on the field if he thought it would better serve him. “That was my biggest messaging [to him]: ‘I appreciate the fact that you want to be a leader, but you have a big job. You’ve got to play shortstop for the New York Mets every day.’
“What I didn’t get is he can do it all. Everybody sees what’s happening on the field, but the person, the father, the husband, the quality of the human that he is — this guy is special, man. Everything is so detail oriented. The way he prepares is unbelievable. And he’s to a place now where New York is home for him.”
The Mets opened the season at home with five straight losses. They followed by winning 12 of their next 15. They finished April at 15-14. “And I’m looking forward to May,” Lindor said, looking back. “It’s going to get warm. Things are going to get better. And then they didn’t.”
It was, Lindor said, “very baseball.” The Mets weren’t getting blown out. They were just losing. A lot. Nineteen times over the next 26 games. The ugliness was reinforcing the expectation internally that the Mets would again spend trade deadline season subtracting from their roster. By the end of the month, their record dropped to 22-33, after a May 29 loss in which reliever Jorge Lopez responded to an ejection by throwing his glove into the Citi Field stands.
“I was getting ready to call a meeting,” Mendoza said. “And before I went to do my press conference, I was walking by and it’s like, ‘hey, the players are meeting.'”
Meetings helmed by players, particularly during chaotic periods in a season, can devolve into meandering festivals of grievance. Lindor had gathered them anyway. He has struggled in the past knowing when to speak or how much to say, but this players-only get-together would hinge on his ability to keep a losing team focused — and by then, he had earned their attention. All of the times patting his teammates’ backs and making them laugh and lifting them up bought Lindor the ability to speak without coming off as a blowhard.
“For him to sound the alarm is a tool that needs to be used in a very sparing way,” Cohen said. “Otherwise, it gets tuned out. But he knows his team, he knows the people, he’s at the stage in his life where he’s seen a lot, there’s a sense of emotional maturity and he’s really thoughtful.”
Lindor, who himself had spent the season’s first two months on the struggle bus — he was hitting .211/.279/372 through nearly 250 plate appearances — simply wanted the Mets players to ask themselves a question: “Are you actually working?” Were they running out ground balls? Or making the best effort to track down fly balls? Were they early for meetings instead of loping in when they were starting? Did their effort in all areas of the game reflect the sort of team they want to be?
“We didn’t have an identity yet as a team,” Ottavino said. “We were together, but we weren’t. I think guys were still thinking about other years, and sometimes it takes a while for the team to be in the moment. And I felt like finally after that game, after that meeting, we did kind of throw away a lot of the preconceived thoughts about what the season was going to be. And I think the team focused their energies a little better as a unit.”
Others spoke up. Manaea, the 32-year-old starting pitcher who had joined the Mets over the winter, pointed at other teams prioritizing fun, particularly on the basepaths. “I basically just said we need something to rally around,” Manaea said. “We’d just played the Dodgers. They have their thing. The Guardians have the Super Mario thing. You look at all these teams, and they have something everyone on the team rallies around.”
Both Francisco Lindor and Carlos Mendoza said that the celebration from Jesse Winker after his base hit in the 2nd inning set the tone for tonight’s energy pic.twitter.com/6pvu26UuCN
— SNY Mets (@SNY_Mets) August 15, 2024
And thus began the Mets celebrating extra-base hits by — well, they slap the air. Some players opt for forehand only, while others go forehand-backhand and put some oomph into it. Though the intended target of the air swings remains a secret held tight by the players, quickly they found themselves air-slapping with regularity. In the first game after the meeting, Lindor went 4 for 4. The Mets won two in a row, then three straight shortly after. Grimace, the McDonald’s character and anthropomorphic taste bud, threw out the first pitch at Citi Field on June 12, and the Mets promptly ripped off seven consecutive wins.
Lindor and his teammates were quick to say: The Mets didn’t start winning because of the meeting. But it was the start of something. Soon after the players-only session, hitting coach Eric Chavez tore apart the team’s offense during a hitters’ meeting of his own. Mets players didn’t balk. They needed accountability to ensure that 22-33 lived only as a reminder of what had been.
“We live in a market where success is the only thing that matters,” Lindor said. “We are athletes, and we have to get it done. The best thing is how hungry the whole organization is to get better, to continue to find a way of accomplishing the ultimate goal. For me, the ultimate goal is to win and have a sustainable franchise where I’m playing for the playoffs every single year.”
And so as the season builds toward August and September, the focus for Lindor narrows. The leeway for him to slump dissipates. Since the day after the meeting, he is hitting .308/.383/.556 with 17 home runs and 19 stolen bases in 72 games. Only Judge and Bobby Witt Jr., the two best players in baseball this season, have more WAR in that stretch. “And that,” Manaea said, “is the stuff I love. The grind of a season. Having the ups and downs. And being able to right the ship and play for something special at the end. There are so few guys who have suited up every single game. And Francisco’s year mirrors our season. Didn’t really start off the year as good as he’d hoped for, but to be where he was and where we’re at now, it’s incredible.”
Only recently have the NL standings shaken out, with Pittsburgh and St. Louis faltering, San Diego and Arizona surging and the Mets finding themselves in prime position to take the last wild-card spot from their longtime rival, Atlanta. The Braves are banged up and have been all season, and though the Mets are missing their ace, Kodai Senga, and elbow issues have thinned their relief corps, their lineup is filled with the sorts of .400-plus-slugging hitters that Atlanta currently just can’t match.
The realistic chance to play in October compels Mendoza to keep trying to give Lindor a break. Take a day, he suggests. Nope, Lindor responds. Way back in spring training, Lindor was hyperspecific with Mendoza that he wanted to spend a particular number of minutes on his feet — rather than an exact number of innings played — on game days. October baseball is why. Lindor is intensely aware of his body’s capability, and he wants August and September — the MVP months — to be when he peaks.
“Here we are in August and I’m trying to tell him, like, dude, you got to back up back off a little bit,” Mendoza said. “He’s like, ‘no, I’ve got to show the way.’ I’m literally trying to do things like, let’s show up a little later to the ballpark just to give the guys a little bit of a break. And he’s the first one out there. He’s the first one on the field. He’s always taking batting practice; he’s taking ground balls. I’m like, I’m thinking about giving you a day and it’s like, ‘Monday is my day off, Mendy. I want Monday.’ Which is a scheduled off day for the team.
“On one hand it’s kind of frustrating. You don’t want the guy to burn himself out. But on the other hand, what a great example and what a great gift that you have not having to urge your leader and your star to be the example setter for everyone else. He just naturally gravitates to that.”
FROM THE MEETING to Grimace to journeyman Jose Iglesias dropping a chart-topping single while batting .335, the Mets’ 2024 season has served at least one purpose: to entertain. Compared to last year’s root canal, this has been a fun season, and starring a fun team, particularly when its offense comes alive (and the Mets’ conflagrant bullpen — the homer-happiest in the NL — avoids combusting again).
All of this matters to Lindor, as, increasingly, does the trajectory of the team, because the best remaining years of his career will be spent with it. Lindor’s contract runs through the 2031 season. He’ll turn 38 shortly thereafter. If he is going to win a championship, it will come with the Mets. And who would surround him on a title-winning team is starting to reveal itself. Brandon Nimmo is in the outfield and Francisco Alvarez behind the plate. Mark Vientos could stick at third base or potentially shift to first if Pete Alonso leaves in free agency. There’s probably a spot for Jeff McNeil, whose power has surged post-meeting, and rookie infielder Ronny Mauricio, who’s out for the season with a torn ACL. Their next generation of position players has ranged from injured (Jett Williams) to OK (Ryan Clifford) to eh (Luisangel Acuna) to not good (Colin Houck). The heart of a good rotation is there, with a healthy Senga, the electric young arms of Brandon Sproat and Christian Scott, David Peterson logging innings and Edwin Diaz finishing games.
“The more I talk with Steve, the more I talk with David, I do believe that we are going in the right direction,” Lindor said. “They’re very methodical. And that to me is a great way of running a company, a franchise or living life. They’re extremely smart, and they believe in the data, but also the data is not going to make the decision for them. The analytics is not just everything. They gather information from everybody. They believe in the human element and they believe in the computer and I think that’s fantastic.”
When Cohen bought the Mets, he said his goal was to win a championship in the first three to five seasons. This is Year 4. The juggernaut dreams ran into the reality that building a sustainably good baseball team takes time and process more than it does money.
Still, passing the Braves, even in an off year, would chisel away at the reputation of near-impermeability Atlanta has spent decades fostering. It’s the excellence of which Lindor dreams.
“He is consistent with his narrative as a leader, which is all about winning,” Ottavino said. “He always sheds light on the winning aspect. He’s not somebody that is going to talk about his own achievements or his own stats, yet he’s very good at celebrating other people’s accomplishments. So if somebody hits a milestone or does something special, Francisco is usually the one who’s quick to point that out after the game and make sure we’re all celebrating the team and the guys and making everybody feel good in that way.
Tonight kicks off a vital road trip in which the Mets will visit San Diego for four games and Arizona for three before a three-game respite against the Chicago White Sox. New York’s schedule softens slightly in early September but makes up for it with as gnarly an end-of-the-season docket as there is: four against the Philadelphia Phillies, three at Atlanta, three at the Milwaukee Brewers.
It could signal the conclusion of a solid season for the Mets or the beginning of a potentially great one. That they’re even in this position says this year is an unequivocal success for a team that looked one meeting from collapsing. Instead, there is meaningful August and September baseball in Queens and one man in particular looking forward to soaking in the next round of chants.
“I’m proud to be a New York Met,” Lindor said. “But my job is not done. I haven’t done what it takes to win. We haven’t won the World Series. So I don’t want to say I’ve done my job to the ultimate end. I feel like not until the day we win, when I have the opportunity to give the trophy to Steve or Alex and say we did it, the job is not done.
“And then since we’re in New York, nobody’s going to care in the next year. So we got to go out and do it again.”
