Say "almost" again. I dare someone to say "almost" again.

"He'd struck out nine Royals, and he'd delivered a mid-game stretch of six consecutive outs on whiffs. He'd given up four singles over eight shutout innings and 102 pitches and, of equal consequence, he'd carried himself like a man possessed by a redemptive spirit, releasing primal screams during the game and even encouraging the packed house at Citi Field to pump up the noise."

Redemptive and primal.


"Towel slung over his shoulder, Harvey was some fire-breathing sight in that dugout as he confronted his manager, ordering him to send him out for the ninth so he could shove that innings-limit fiasco down the haters' throats once and for all.

'He's been through a tough summer,' Collins would say. The people in the stands? They'd been through a lot of tough summers with the Mets, and now nearly 45,000 of them were chanting, 'We want Harvey.' "

You know?

If Collins had just sent his starter out there because he trusted his starter more than he trusted his closer?

That would be perfectly understandable.


"How could Collins not listen to them, the same fans who stood and cheered for a middling player, Wilmer Flores, on the July night everyone thought he'd been traded? The same fans who had traveled to Los Angeles and Chicago to watch their long-shot Mets advance in the postseason? The same fans the 66-year-old Collins had hugged and kissed and sprayed with champagne on this once-in-a-career carpet ride to the World Series?"

How could the manager of a baseball team not listen to the fans in the stands?

Is that a rhetorical question? Or is this just Opposite Day?


"It was the right call at the right time, no matter what Collins said in his news conference after this soul-crushing 12-inning defeat was complete."

Soul-crushing is not primal or redemptive.


"Sometimes, good managing and good coaching mean listening to your very best players. At the time Harvey dramatically raced from the dugout to the mound, inspiring an eruption in the stands, how many witnesses truly thought this was a bad idea?"

I agree.

But what about after the walk to the first batter?

Collins actually said that he couldn't take him out after just one batter. I had no idea that was a thing.


"Murphy? Thanks for disappearing at the plate and for turning the art of infield defense into a dark and ill-timed comedy.

Duda? What the hell kind of throw was that?

Familia? Was that Game 1 quick pitch to Alex Gordon really necessary?

Yoenis Cespedes? Do you actually think the Mets are going to offer you a nine-figure contract after playing the outfield and running the bases as if you were goofing around at some celebrity softball event?

Collins? Even your wife ripped you for wasting Familia in a Game 3 blowout and then refusing to use him for six outs in Game 4.

In win-or-else New York, this is often the time to strike down on the Mets with an unforgiving hand. To remind them they night never get another shot at this. To shred them for having all those young-stud arms and, you know, for still not getting it done."

New York is not the only place that's win-or-else.

The 2014 NL Manager of the Year was Matt Williams.

Collins got his contract extension, well-deserved, I suppose. He'll learn quickly what happens if his team doesn't win the World Series.