The Mets in the age of Madoff

My grandfather, of blessed memory, was Brooklyn born and bred. The son of immigrant parents, he grew up during the height of the Great Depression, raised on the double whammy of Jewish guilt and financial instability.  He was also a Dodgers fan, as he’d fondly tell me, before cursing them for leaving for California.

My grandfather had little patience for people who couldn’t weather hard times.  He fought in World War II, he survived the depression, he knew hard times and he built a thriving paper box company despite those trials and tribulations.  He expected nothing less from anyone else. All this goes to say, I grew up a Mets fan.

Being a Mets fan is a little like enjoying the music of Nickelback – a good number of people secretly share your passion, but everyone else thinks you’re a moron.  The Mets are the Cubs-lite of the Baseball world, bumbling, never afraid to get your hopes up before dashing them mercilessly against the outfield walls; but they lack the gravitas of the Cubbies – Shea was no Wrigley, and the tragedy of ninety-plus seasons without a World Series title simply can’t be beat.  You get all the shame without the pity.

Somehow, amidst seasons of dismal play, cocaine benders, and Vince Coleman, the Mets would miraculously rise and win a title, only to quickly fade back into the shadow of the Yankee bums across town who’d capture yet another pennant.  I still remember my friend Hunter Walker, a rabid Yankees fan, singing “Meet the Mets, BEAT the Mets” to the tune of the Mets pathetic theme-song as we walked the halls in Junior High.  Such was the life of a Mets fan. 

This season proved to be one of the Mets brighter ones as they somehow made it all the way to the World Series with one of Baseball’s lowest payrolls, and a lineup that hit only marginally better than a blind grandmother.  They gave over 110 at-bats to John Mayberry, who rewarded them by hitting .164 with a truly baffling .227 on-base percentage, worse than most of the team’s pitchers. The team also gave hundreds of at-bats to the like of Eric Campbell (.197 avg), Kirk Nieuwenhuis (.208 avg), and Juan Uribe (.219 avg). 

One might wonder what led to a big market team like the Mets giving so many plate appearances to men who couldn’t hit above the Mendoza line, and the answer is pretty simple: Bernie Madoff.

Fred Wilpon, the majority owner of the Mets, is a Bensonhurst boy, the son of a Jewish funeral home director and a former highschool teammate of Sandy Koufax.  He, along with his brother-in-law Saul Katz, founded a group called Sterling Equities in the 1970's, dealing mostly in real estate.  Together they built a large fortune, and in a stroke of what would turn out to be sheer idiocy, they invested most of that money with a man named Madoff.

We all know Bernie Madoff, perhaps the most reviled Jew in American history, he of the massive ponzi scheme that defrauded everyone from Kevin Bacon to Elie Wiesel.  That’s one degree of separation between Bacon and Wiesel, for those who keep track. With the help of Madoff’s wildly crazy returns, Wilpon bought sole ownership of the Mets in 2002, buying out Nelson Doubleday.

When Madoff’s scheme unraveled, so too did the Met’s finances, buoyed as they were, by smoke and mirrors.  The fraud went deeper than that, though.  According to no less than the New York Times, Madoff advised Wilpon on Mets financial matters, including pushing Wilpon to offer players deferred payments, so that Wilpon could invest more money with Madoff.  That practice has become a financial albatross for the Mets who are paying perennial malcontent Bobby Bonilla $1.2 million a year until 2035 as part of one such deal.  For an embarrassing stretch in 2013, Bonilla actually earned more money than any active outfielder on the Mets roster.

Irving Picard, the trustee tasked with recovering money for bilked Madoff investors, went hard after Wilpon, who eventually ended up paying $162 million to settle Picard’s suit against him in 2012.  At one point, the Mets finances were so bad that Major League Baseball had to loan them $25 million so they could make payroll.

One need look no further than this year’s World Series to see the mess that Madoff wrought.  According to ESPN, the Mets payroll for 2015 hovered right around $100 million, putting them well into the bottom half of the league’s payrolls, $10 million behind even the small-market Royals.  To put things in further perspective, the Royals payroll in 2005 was $36 million and has nearly tripled since then.  The Mets payroll in 2005 was a couple of million more than their payroll in 2015 – it’s actually dropped over the years.

The Mets made it back to World Series in 2015 as a result of shrewd trades and homegrown talent, and practically in spite of the fact that their bench and bullpen were as thin as their financial reserves.  It was a true miracle Mets season, and a valiant effort all-around, especially considering the limited ability to trade for help at mideseason.

Next season, however, may not be as bright. The Mets are not expected to re-sign either of their marquee free agents this winter, Daniel Murphy, or Yoenis Cespedes.  While the Dodgers deep-pocketed owners might plunk down $200 million on a new mascot if they thought it would help them win, the Mets will once again hit the bargain basement, hoping to turn yesterday’s castoffs into a steal.

As a Mets fan, I have the sinking feeling that despite some stellar pitching, if the Mets can’t afford any good bats, they may well fade back into the mediocrity that has defined the bulk of their existence.  Like my grandfather, however, I stick around for the hard times, and no doubt will don my Mets hat next spring, excited for the season to come, and ready as ever for the inevitable disappointment that’s only partly the fault of Bernie freaking Madoff.