New York Yankees fans who've let their eyes wander over to Citi Field this postseason have likely already fallen in love with the way the Mets attack each game as if it may be their last. Sure, Steve Cohen's group is an overstuffed payroll balloon masquerading as a crew of scrappy underdogs, but David Stearns' unparalleled ability to uncover forgotten gems has greatly aided in the reputational turnaround.
The Mets' players take the extra base aggressively, but certainly don't sacrifice contact for power. They simply ... do both things. The Mets' pitching staff isn't overloaded with big names, but they know their roles, something Luis Severino struggled with in the Bronx for years before somehow finding his mojo with a reduced fastball.
Jealousy isn't the right way to appraise the way Yankee fans feel about the Mets' current circumstances. The circus is still distinctly "Mets"; Yankees fans don't want Gleyber Torres to release a hit single, or the Hamburglar to pop out of a hole in the right field wall and start chugging beef juice. But the on-field product? These Mets players look like parts of a whole, and the ball is currently rolling quickly downhill. They've given their fans every reason to buy in, and the crowd has reciprocated.
Sure, the crowd enthusiasm may be quirk-fueled, and Yankee fans still dream of good, old-fashioned screaming without a McDonald's tie-in. But the heart of the Mets' changing tide has been a 25-man group buy-in, motivated by leadership. Pete Alonso said the quiet part out loud on Wednesday afternoon before Game 4 of the NLDS, admitting that his roster feeds off the crowd's energy. They believe, so the team continues to believe. They aren't tight in big moments, so neither is Alonso.
Yankees have to forge same relationship Mets have with home fans once again
Yankee Stadium used to feel that way, too. But, as Dellin Betances said after Monday's Game 2 loss, there was something off about the energy in the ballpark during that particular contest. Carlos Rodón expended his energy early; so did the crowd, two days prior. Once the Yankees went up 1-0 in the ALDS, you could feel the crowd seething, aiming their ire at Aaron Judge, and settling in for another opportunity to say, "Told ya so!" Even at its peak, the deficit was only three runs. That is eminently doable for a trailing team, especially in these comeback-focused playoffs. But the Yankees fans thought the Yankees were dead, and so did the Yankees.
Of course, this relationship goes both ways. If fans are quiet and anxious, they aren't to blame for the Yankees coming up short. If the Yankees put a boisterous product out on the field, there'd be immediate buy-in; just watch any Juan Soto lead-flipping home run from this season for a sneak preview. Yankee fans travel. Yankee fans show up for the teams that show up for them -- and even some that don't.
But, after 15 years of too-early postseason stagnation bouts, briefly interrupted by a shooting star that couldn't last in 2017, there's a significant disconnect between the regular and postseason in the Bronx. That divide actually shrunk in 2024, perhaps contributing to the team's notably stronger road record (50-31 vs. 44-37). Suddenly, with the lingering pressure of Soto's walk year hanging over every game, June began to feel a bit like autumn.
Perhaps those road games in electric Kansas City will do the trick and help galvanize the Yankees' fan base, creating connectivity from across borders. Or perhaps the roster needs an overhaul before that can ever be possible. Right now, though, the Mets (and Alonso) have managed to change their legacy by proving that gimmicks can beget gappers, loosening up the crowd along the way. The Yankees? In order to translate talent to production, they're going to need the stadium to shrink and rock when their opponents have the ball in their hand, desperately seeking a third out they fear will never come.
These days, it's the Yankees who duck at the first sign of adversity, and their home turf has become a hindrance.