This story was excerpted from Anthony DiComo’s Mets Beat newsletter. To read the full newsletter, click here. And subscribe to get it regularly in your inbox.
BOSTON -- Recently, a high-profile Mets acquisition arrived for his first day of work sporting a record nine-figure contract -- by far the largest the franchise had ever handed out -- and nurturing sky-high expectations.
It didn’t go well. Within his first month on the job, fans at this player’s new home ballpark booed him. On talk radio and social media, some called his contract an albatross. Player and team had committed to each other long term, yet the marriage seemed anything but snug.
That was the situation Francisco Lindor faced just four years ago. So surely, Lindor understands what Juan Soto is going through right now.
“In the grand scheme of things, people have tendencies to look at a long-term contract in a one-year span,” Lindor said this week. “But it’s a long-term contract. It’s going to play out. He’s going to be one of the greatest Mets to play in this organization. To play 15 years here, he’s going to throw up some crazy numbers.”
When Lindor arrived in New York in 2021, he was a talented, high-energy 27-year-old who had made the American League All-Star team in each of his first four full seasons with the Guardians. Having priced himself out of Cleveland, Lindor went to the Mets in a blockbuster trade. He immediately signed a 10-year, $341 million contract extension despite knowing little about his new home.
That first season was a bust. A career .285/.346/.488 hitter heading into 2021, Lindor batted just .230/.322/.412 that year, compiling 3.0 Wins Above Replacement -- to this day, easily his lowest WAR total in any full season.
A few weeks into his tenure, Lindor came under fire for his surreal answer to a question about a dugout scuffle with teammate Jeff McNeil, saying the two were arguing over whether an animal they saw was a rat or a raccoon. In July, Lindor strained his oblique, missing five weeks. In August, he again absorbed criticism for the thumbs-down gesture that he, Javier Báez and other Mets directed at fans who had been critical of their play.
Multiple times along the way, then-manager Luis Rojas pulled Lindor aside to assure him everything would be OK. It hardly seemed like a guarantee. While Lindor may not have been a pariah by season’s end, he had plenty of folks wondering if his $341 million contract might have been a mistake.
Then he found his footing. Relying on veteran teammates like Jacob deGrom, Michael Conforto, Edwin Díaz and others, Lindor began to learn the differences between market cultures in Cleveland and New York. He developed a more open relationship with the media, and by extension, with fans. He developed his leadership skills. More than anything, he began playing better, finishing in the top 10 in National League MVP voting each of the next three seasons.
“I learned how to stay the course and live in the moment and not live so much with the exterior noises,” Lindor said. “And then rely on the people that were here to help me continue to get better.”
Every player, of course, is different. Soto’s path will diverge from Lindor’s because they are different types of people, different types of players. No single answer works for everyone.
But the lesson of Lindor’s first year in Flushing is nonetheless relevant for those wishing to judge Soto after eight good-but-not-great weeks as a Met. Like Lindor, Soto came to Queens sporting a Hall of Fame-caliber track record. Like Lindor, he hasn’t immediately found his footing. Like Lindor, his early public statements haven’t helped.
Also like Lindor, Soto is good enough and smart enough to find his way out of this rut so that two, three, four years from now, many will barely remember it happened at all.
“Eventually,” Lindor said, “everything’s going to level out in people’s eyes.”