Mets 12 Run Inning

Game 22 // Third Inning // The Mets Score Twelve



Don’t think I’ll have to eat my words if I say this was the biggest inning we’ll see this year. Without a doubt, it was—and the biggest in the Mets’ whole history. 12 runs. 12 runs!! A dozen Metropolitans storming home in an endless third inning, a full midnight-to-noon rotation spinning toward Mets o’clock, with the fans in Flushing unsure of how even to celebrate. Having exhausted the high-five, the whoop, the hurrah, the hug, the jump and the scream by tenfold, they needed a meeting, by the end, to all come together and ask, is this the real life, is this just fantasy?

It was all like a rare comet streaking by unannounced—if you missed it, you wouldn’t believe it ever happened.

In a 0-0 game, Curtis Granderson came up to bat, and nothing—nothing at all, would’ve suggested what all came next. He walks, and then David Wright walks.

Peavy calls out to the home-plate ump “Where is that pitch??” and storms back to the mound, licking his palms like they’re a postage stamp, twisting the ball around for better grip. “What that up? Was that high??”

Now comes Michael Conforto, who’s been as good or better than Mike Trout or Bryce Harper were in their first 77 games, but without the proper recognition. So I… hereby… recognize him. He’ll be a star in N.Y. for a long while, the type of offensive promise they’ve lacked for too long—and he now lines one into left-field, a great finesse-hit beyond his years, and he slides safely into second.

1-0 Mets now, and it’s two men on with no outs. This is officially looking Big Inningy. And everything made even better by the presence of an ad behind home for “Bucket Hat Night” (May 21)–which easily trumps bobblehead night as the most can’t-miss giveaway promotion in sports.

Now we get Yoenis Cespedes, striding up to the plate like the comic-book introduction of the villain feared by all, with a speech bubble beside his cheek warning Jake Peavy he’s done for, he’s toast, he’s soon to be POW’d and WHAM’d and WOWZA’d into oblivion.

Cespedes chases a slider outside, as Peavy proves he’s still got wily enough stuff to sneak out of the inning alive. Then, on the next pitch, he waits patiently on an outside cutter that never really cuts, and he lifts it coolly into center-field, driving in two and now standing on first base, un-velcroing his batting gloves, the battle won. 3-0 Mets.

Peavy, meanwhile, has cultivated the halfway-groomed aesthetic that Joe Maddon would call “dirtbag,” up there with Travis Wood and Tyler Clippard as the honored alumni of the John Kruk School of Baseball Grooming—the scraggly, half-filled-in beard and goatee, the unkempt curls poking out from under the hat—which, by the way, is likely the dirtiest hat in the league, soiled with salt-stains and rosin residue and general miscellaneous dirt-baggery. He’s starting to look like Mac Demarco.

Peavy’s now against Lucas Duda, who crushes several pitches deep, but foul—prompting Bruce Bochy to make a call to the bullpen. On the 10th pitch of the at-bat, Duda walks.

Now Neil Walker up, “with the chance to put the hammer down.”

On the next pitch, Walker reaches down low on a slider and… they’re off to the races. The ball soars high into right-field, shades of Daniel Murphy’s unreal HR off Arrieta in last year’s NLCS, dropping just short of the wall for a double. 4-0. Peavy’s done. Six straight Mets reaching base. No outs.

In from the Giants bullpen, who comes in but Mike Broadway—who’s clearly been signed by the wrong team here.

Right away he gives up a soaring line-drive double to Asdrubal Cabrera, and on come the jokes from the TV crew:

“And Cabrera says give my regards…”

“No longer standing room only for Mike Broadway…

He comes in throwing no better than Peavy, with Buster Posey just saving a way-outside pitch, wondering, what’s going on with these guys?? 

The next pitch: outside again, ball four, and eight straight Mets have reached base. The Inning rarely gets Bigger than this.

Steven Matz comes up now, the pitcher, the Giants finally get an out on a two-strike foul bunt, but the Mets have now batted around and don’t look to be slowing down at all. Broadway waits for the sign, his right arm dangling down toward the mound, wagging, with his hat pulled tight and low over his forehead, he flings a low slider toward Granderson, and…

I’ve seen the lights go out on (Mike) Broaaadwayy…

It’s a deep drive by Granderson, long gone… I think? Just as the ball looks to soar over the right-field wall, some miracle wind off the incoming planes into LaGuardia blows it back into play, and it’s in-and-then-out of Hunter Pence’s glove. He misplays it, trickling onto the warning track dirt, and now it’s 7-0 Mets. Yikes.

David Wright, again: single to right. Bases loaded.

Conforto, again: single to right. 8-0. Bases still loaded.

And now, Cespedes. Who else? What else? How much better can it get than this?

First pitch.

Grand slam.


It’s bedlam out in Queens, the fans not even sure of what to do with themselves, a massive sea of hugging and jumping that’s like the 2015 playoffs all over again, maybe better.

And the MLB Gameday feed now reads like a grocery-store receipt, spilling over itself in a big looping mess that would take years to read, with RBIs and runs and balls and strikes stacked up in an endless script.

“Broadway’s more like the West 4th Street playhouse tonight,” says one of the TV guys.

“Broadway threw that one right down the Great White Way…”

It’s the biggest inning in the Mets’ 55-year history. Let me repeat: Biggest Inning in Mets History. Wow. The next closest being an impressive 11-run frame in 2006.

The next two guys up hit into quick, tame ground-outs, and the inning’s over.

But wow. If that isn’t the biggest Big Inning I’ll ever see.





7th Inning: TOR vs. CHW

6th Inning: LAD vs. MIA

5th Inning: HOU vs. BOS

3rd Inning: WSH vs. ATL

7th Inning: BAL vs. BOS

8th Inning: CHC vs. CIN

8th Inning: SFG vs. LAD