Before the moody weather this weekend canceled the third game of the Subway Series, Mets fans had to feel they were already living in another hemisphere, if not another planet.
Just as the surreal skies -- sunny one hour, biblical rain the next -- had New Yorkers wondering where they really lived, the Mets had Gotham wondering if they were a big-league baseball club.
The series opened well enough, with the Mets taking the opener at Yankee Stadium. But then news broke that their best player, Yoenis Cespedes, had major pain in his heels and asserted surgery was a serious consideration. All of this after Cespedes played his first game in months and even belted a homer in the Mets' 7-6 victory Friday. Making it worse, manager Mickey Calloway had to fumble his way through his presser the next morning, flatly unaware of the news or his star player's diagnosis.
The Mets' brass finally elbowed its way into the story, telling the media and masses that Cespedes will see a specialist and go under the knife only as a last resort. John Ricco also said there's no break in the chain of command, and despite the comical optics, there's no chasm between the manager and the news that trickles out into the streets. But Mets fans must be feeling serious Cespedes fatigue, as their wildly gifted but physically tormented outfielder has played in fewer than 50 percent of the team's games since the Mets blessed him with a four-year, $110 million contract, making him the highest-paid outfielder in the sport.
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For his part, Cepedes lashed out at the press for questioning his desire to play, the most fire he's shown since 2015, when he led the Mets to the World Series. Since then, Cespedes has gotten more attention for his fleet of cars than any string of big hits.
But the Mets weren't done being weird. This past weekend also spawned the surreal news that ace pitcher Noah Syndergaard was hopping back onto the disabled list with -- this is not a typo -- hand, foot and mouth disease. While the Mets assure us this is a fleeting affair, it's still another eyesore for a pitcher who's looked nothing like his comic book moniker -- Thor -- after spending the last seven weeks on the DL with a bum pitching finger.
We as humans like to think we're special, even unique, that maybe we have a hidden talent for something that will spring to life in time to leave a legacy. The Mets' historical gift? A medical team that makes Abbott and Costello look like James Andrews and Jonas Salk.
The Mets have been a walking triage for over a decade. Going back to Jose Reyes' tender hamstrings that never seemed to heal, the Mets have carried a sprawling list of players on the disabled list. And lest we forget that the club's most beloved player, David Wright, is still on the team but has been plagued with physical maladies for years, our only contact with the team captain coming every spring with some hopeful bromide about a return that never happens.
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No matter how much one loves or loathes the Mets, there's no denying that there are times when they're a funhouse reflection of a professional sports franchise. Too often their problems are self-inflicted, from blowing a seven-game lead with 17 games left to Tom Glavine's grotesque final performance to firing Willie Randolph on road to Bernie Madoff to today's grotesque iteration of an MLB franchise.
You can imagine the double entendres that late-night comics will come up with to describe Syndergaard's latest ailment and its historical correlation to the Mets. Hand, foot and mouth disease. Even without a team of comedy writers, the Mets are fast morphing into a joke. You have Syndergaard with the bad hand, Cespedes with the bad foot, and the Mets with some kind of systemic disease that keeps their players far from the field, the team far below the Yankees and miles from first place.
Follow Jason on Twitter at @JasonKeidel
