The Overnight Infield Signing That Shows the Mets Are Truly Out for Blood

The Mets are changing the game. They’re spending too much, too fast. $800 million in a single offseason! Give us back our agreed-upon salary structure! (So to speak: “There’s no collusion. But … there was a reason nobody for years ever went past $300 million. You still have partners, and there’s a system,” an unnamed team official told Evan Drellich of The Athletic. Which is the kind of thing you say when there’s actually no collusion.)

Everyone’s freaking out about the Mets’ signing of Carlos Correa, news of which broke in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, hours after the Giants postponed their own official Correa rollout. Snatching the top remaining free agent away from a competitive rival in the middle of the night is a flashy move, as is signing a $300 million shortstop to play third base so as not to displace Francisco Lindor, the Mets’ incumbent $300 million shortstop.

The Mets’ projected 2023 payroll is currently at $376 million, not including tax penalties. At least for now, because the Mets’ 2023 projected payroll has been scrolling up all offseason like the scoreboard at the Jerry Lewis telethon. But here I feel compelled to borrow an observation from Tom Verducci: Before Correa, the Mets’ biggest free agent signings were mostly in service of either retaining or replacing outgoing free agents. Correa was the first real upgrade to a team that won 101 games in 2022.

Even then, the contract was not out of line with his market. He’ll make less money per year than Trea Turner or Manny Machado, and far less than Lindor. His AAV is only about $800,000 more per year than what Xander Bogaerts got from San Diego. Correa will make less money per year, over fewer years, than he stood to make had the Giants not reneged on their original 13-year, $350 million pact.

Less than 24 hours after they purloined Correa, the Mets signed another infielder at an hour when respectable people are trying to get another round in before last call instead of closing lucrative business deals. This time, it was Danny Mendick, inked to a one-year, $1 million deal.

Danny Mendick. A million bucks. One million of George Washington’s dollars. One million American simoleons.

I first became aware of Mendick many years ago while listening to an episode of FanGraphs Audio in which Carson Cistulli tried to say his last name and burst into laughter. But Mendick has evolved into a useful big leaguer. His career was probably hampered at the start because everyone saw a short White Sox second baseman and assumed he was Nick Madrigal. But after Madrigal got traded, we learned that Mendick can hold his own defensively at any infield position, and last season he hit .289/.343/.443 in 106 plate appearances.

There’s almost certainly quite a bit of batted-ball luck that went into Mendick’s 125 wRC+ in 2022. Surely the White Sox agree, otherwise they wouldn’t have non-tendered him. Let’s say he regresses all the way to his true talent wRC+, call it somewhere around 80. That’s still a perfectly acceptable backup infielder for $1 million. Of the 90 Opening Day starting second base, third base, and shortstop positions in the majors, I’m all but certain at least one will be occupied by a worse player than Mendick.

Here’s the thing: Mendick isn’t going to be the Mets’ utility infielder. He’s going to be the starting second baseman for the Triple-A Western New York Garbage Plates. (Which is what they should be called, instead of the Syracuse Mets.)

While Mendick is a serviceable, even slightly-north-of-replacement-level utility infielder, the Mets currently have that position covered. Many times over. Do you know how many people would have to be traded or incapacitated in order for Mendick to see meaningful playing time? Because I do. At least four: Eduardo Escobar, Luis Guillorme, Brett Baty, and at least one of New York’s All-Star infield starters (Correa, Lindor, and Jeff McNeil).

Escobar is the incumbent starting third baseman, and he would’ve remained so had Correa not become available. He’ll be making $9.5 million in 2023, after a season in which he posted a 106 wRC+ and 2.3 WAR. If he’s actually going to start the season as the utility infielder, he’s got to be the best utility infielder since Gil McDougald. Guillorme is what an elite utility infielder would look like on a normal team, someone who can back up the trickier defensive positions while also putting up excellent on-base numbers against right-handed pitching (.367 OBP, 118 wRC+).

Baty was the Mets’ third baseman of the future until the instant Giants owner Charles Johnson came over all Wayne Huizenga and San Francisco backed out of the Correa deal. If he’s not traded, he’s as exciting a backup third baseman as you’ll ever find. And even beyond Mendick, there’s more depth: non-roster invitee José Peraza, Jonathan Araúz, and Mark Vientos all saw big league action last year. (Though Vientos is more of a break-glass-in-case-of-emergency third baseman.) Top shortstop prospect Ronny Mauricio might not be ready now, but he might be before the season is over.

I have a recurring nightmare in which I’m back in high school and, despite having washed out of Little League as a preteen, I’m called upon to play third base in a high-stakes varsity baseball game. (To all the “You never played the game” guys: I did play the game, and I was terrible at it so I quit.) Every year, some version of this nightmare plays out on a major league field: A team with injury problems is forced to start an infielder who, upon encountering Double-A breaking stuff for the first time, started wondering if he’d have been better off going to law school.

That won’t happen to the Mets, because they can pay and have paid a premium for Danny Mendick, who has a remaining minor league option and can therefore be stashed in Triple-A until the Mets have need of him.

The normal cost for such a player is a split contract with a non-roster spring training invite. The major league minimum is $720,000 this year; such players would make at least $117,400 a year while in the minors, usually a little more if the team really wants them. But if the Mets can spend lots of money to make big, splashy improvements, they can also spend a comparative rounding error to fortify their organization further down the pecking order.

I’d argue that the Mets, by dint of their immense financial reserves, are the last team that needs to make these marginal improvements. That a team that’s committed to running bottom-third payrolls would get the most bang for its buck in the long-term by spending on minor league depth, facilities improvements, minor league salaries, coaches, and so on.

But there are 29 owners whose entire position in society is defined by having money. To spend or share it any more than necessary is to imperil their entire conception of self. Cohen is rich enough to know something his brothers in the cartel don’t: Money isn’t real to a man who’s worth tens of billions. Why are the Mets doing this? Because they can.

Correa is the splashier deal, the more expensive, and will ultimately be the more impactful. But by going out of their way to lock Mendick down, the Mets have truly shown their contempt for the other owners’ hysterical cries of poverty. They will not be outbid, anywhere on the depth chart.