See if you can guess who I am talking about: This is the story of a good player on a bad Mets team. And this team is really, really bad—embarrassingly out-of-touch ownership, ridiculously lopsided trades, a weak farm system, an alienated fan base, second-class citizenship in the hometown (Yankees) and regional (Phillies and Red Sox) markets, and a total aversion to signing a big-ticket free agent — not that one of them would want to come here anyway. In other words, the perfect storm of dreadfulness that buried this once proud team in the second division with little hope, outside of a miracle, for any turnaround soon.
The player, however, is another story: a former first-round draft pick, he lives in the city, is always accessible to the media, plays in a style that is a throwback to an earlier era, has had his share of big hits, including a homerun in an All-Star game. He appeals to everyone: the press likes him, women think he’s cute, and kids wear his jersey. Unlike other former and current teammates, he actually likes playing here. He is coming off of an injury-riddled season that cut his games played and production to all-time lows, but a clean bill of health and some changes to the home stadium promise a return to past glory. The team is expected to be awful again next year, but there is hope: a new front office has been assembled, one with a long track record of success in the American League. Regardless, he’ll be out there, giving it his all, thrilling the fans with both his glove and his bat. After all, he is “The Face of The Franchise.”
That’s too easy, you’re probably thinking right now. He’s talking about David Wright.
Nope. The player in question is
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