All too Familia

All too Familia.
Us New York Mets fans, we knew it, we knew it the minute that Brandon Crawford stroked that double off Jeurys Familia. It affirmed our worst fears, but it is something we all knew deep down long before that. Well, if you consider "deep down" and "long before" the kind of experience that goes back to last season's World Series when the Kansas City Royals beat not so much the Mets as their closer. Ok, and really shoddy fielding - Wright, Duda, Murphy.
This October, in the Wild Card playoff game, maybe we knew it even sooner. The moment that Terry Collins, the Mets skipper, a manager not known for his strategic nous, pinch hit for Addison Reed and sent Familia out for the 9th inning. That's when we knew. Familia was very good in the regular season. 51 saves out of a possible 54, I think. Not too shabby. But, there's the regular season, and there's the Big Boy Season.
I don't know whether or not Familia has an appetite for the big stage, but its hard to imagine that he does, so routinely has he failed on it. Last season, the Mets came into the World Series with their young guns - Harvey, Degrom, Syndergaard, Matz - all in fine form. All they needed was for Familia to close things out. He couldn't. No cojones? Intestinal fortitude? You know, the guy who wants the ball when the game's on the line, that's not Familia. These are not his exact problem, although they might very well intensify his propensity for failure.
This season, with Harvey, Degrom and Matz succumbing to season-ending injuries with the same kind of regularity that Travis D'Arnaud hits weak popups or Rene Rivera flails at the changeup, the Mets battled gamely to secure home field advantage in the Wild Card game, they needed Familia to get them safely (that is, scorelessly) through the 9th so that they could stage something, well, maybe a mini-rally in the bottom half of the inning.
In other words, we hoped for one more act of courage, one more improbable home run or a double scorched by Asdrubal Cabrera (not up in the 9th, but you get my drift; Cabrera really was our best player this season), and maybe Céspedes would drive him home. You know, the kind of things us Mets fans hope for, against our own better instincts. Such is our lot, we do our best. We checked our sanity in the moment we committed to the boys from Queens.
Noah Syndergaard, him of the flapping blond mane and the indomitable spirit (he just looks like he has absolute self-belief; he even seems to believe that it matters not a jot whether he holds runners on; when an opposing batter reaches base, Mets fans just reach for the Maalox), was every inch the Greek god of thunder, striking out ten, flirting with a no-hitter, pitching with authority. He deserved to win. So too Reed, who battled through the 8th without giving up a run.
Looking back, as that fan who watched almost every goddamn game, there's something heroic but not convincing about Familia's 51 saves. Sure, he gave up only one homer, but how many nights did he walk guys, how many games he struggled with his control. Every time he got into trouble, you knew he was going to overthrow; a pitch in the dirt, high and outside. Often he redeemed himself, often the infielders made those double plays. So, throughout the regular season a Familia 9th inning always had us jittery.
Almost makes you long for Armando Benitez.
Collins knows of Familia's fragile psyche. How could he not? But what should have bothered Collins more, not only after Wednesday's debacle, but after the repeated World Series failures, was Familia's "deficient memory." Familia says he forgets about a blown save as soon as he's blown it. And, what's worse, I think he's telling the truth.
Like a golfer, you know, who can banish that last bad shot in order to make good on the next one.
Post-game, Familia did it again last night, this whole I-forgot-about-as-soon-as-it-happened thing, although this time he resorted to the shared discourse - amongst the club's brass, its players and the Mets beat writers - of "pride" that is au courant in the Mets fraternity. That is, the kind of self-praise that emanates from having overcome multiple injuries and then surviving into the Wild Card game. Familia said, by the time reporters reached him, that he was proud of his team mates, proud of the way in which they'd defined expectations, proud of how they'd battled; proud that they'd defeated the odds all season long. Fair enough, Mets outperformed themselves, but don't you want to win? Consolation prizes suck.
That's the problem right there. You know, the logic of "fool me once . . . " Or, maybe its more like that truism about being doomed to repeat history if one does not learn from it. Neither Collins nor Familia are history buffs, apparently. Collins hasn't learned that Familia is not up for the post season, and probably never will be; Familia hasn't learned to learn from the mistakes he made in the World Series in 2015. He forgets so quickly, he's never going to learn to learn, to turn things over, to think about how he might avoid subjecting his team mates and us fans to such soul crushing defeats, season after season. Amnesia, of the artificial variety, has significant costs.
You, for whatever reason, Familia, can just go on about your business. The rest of us, Mets fans, we just wish it wasn't all so bloody Familia.
What do you think we could get for him in a trade, Sandy? Maybe a closer who is savvy enough to learn from his own mistakes? Or, is that asking too much? Better to live and inevitably die with the Familia, right?