Remember the Wilpons? Remember Collin Cowgill and Alejandro De Aza and Chris Young and Eric Campbell? Remember James Loney and 40-year-old Bobby Abreu? Remember payroll flexibility?
Now there's Juan Soto.
This is a new era of the New York Mets. They have to win first, sure, but they're set up to do that. They have Juan Soto. They have Francisco Lindor too, and Kodai Senga and Brandon Nimmo and Edwin Díaz, but most importantly they have Juan Soto. That's where this all has to start.
Fred Wilpon said David Wright was "a very good player [but] not a superstar." Brodie Van Wagenen credited Zack Wheeler with "two good half-seasons over the last five years" before letting him walk. The Mets, in the greatest city in the world, were content to be mediocre, whether because of a lack of interest or bad financial decisions or because they simply thought that was good enough. They didn't try to be great, when greatness should have been expected of them. When greatness was warranted and deserved and owed.
These new Mets, with the kingdom lights shining, want to be great.
Steve Cohen's money helps. He knows his job is to cut a check and he did just that. He also welcomed Soto into his home and pitched him on a promise. He promised to fight dragons, if that's what it took. He promised confetti and magic.
The post-Madoff Mets were about unfulfilled wishes and failed dreams. Or maybe they weren't dreams at all. Not the good kind, at least. They were dreams of complacency, of just enough to get by. Dreams of John Mayberry Jr.
The Steve Cohen Mets chase after Shohei Ohtani and Yoshinobu Yamamoto. They get Soto. They envision rings and parades and dynasties. They dream of legacies and history book pages.
The Mets have always been the underdogs. They were a second-class team in their own town. They'll never beat the Yankees in a jewelry contest. But right now, at this very moment, they're on top. They won this battle. Soto picked this band of thieves in ripped up jeans.
Now it's time to rule the world.
