Hey Siri : Why Has Cedric Been Less Than Entertaining ?

I’ll be honest: at the trade deadline, I was banging the drum for the Mets to go after Luis Robert Jr. The guy is a walking highlight reel — five tools, swagger, and a bat that could dent the Shea Bridge if he ever really squared one up. Since July 31, Robert’s been fine. In 22 games he’s hitting .256 with 3 homers, 10 RBIs, and 6 steals. Not MVP stuff, but certainly useful.

The problem? The White Sox wanted one of the Mets’ three young pitching jewels and that was a non-starter. Full disclosure: I thought Cedric Mullins was a perfectly good fallback option. Proven veteran, center-field glove, speed, even some pop. I liked the move. On paper, it made sense.

But on grass, clay, and the patchy outfield sod at Citi Field? Not so much.

Before Mets fans get too cranky, it’s worth remembering that Cedric Mullins was no throw-in. In Baltimore, he was an All-Star, a Silver Slugger, and a legit 30–30 guy in 2021. That year, he hit .291 with 30 homers, 37 doubles, 59 RBIs, and 30 steals, good for a sparkling 6.2 WAR. He was the kind of player who made Orioles fans dream of statues.

Across eight years with Baltimore, Mullins batted .247/.317/.421 with 101 homers, 335 RBIs, and 146 stolen bases. That’s a solid career line and a résumé that should have translated into at least competent production in Flushing.

Which is why his first month as a Met has felt so disappointing.

You know how every scouting report used to describe Mullins as “a plus defender with range”? That still holds true, he gets to plenty of balls. The problem is what happens after he gets there. Runners all over the National League have basically been playing Red Light, Green Light with him. If a ball lands in center field, you can practically hear the third-base coach yelling, “Green light, kids! Go, go, go!”

Mullins’ arm hasn’t exactly discouraged anybody. In fact, it’s encouraged them. Singles to center are turning into track meets, and Citi Field has started to feel less like a ballpark and more like a relay event.

And then there’s the hitting. Since arriving in Queens, Mullins has been, let’s be kind, underwhelming. Through last night, he’s batting .174/.284/.272 with just 1 home run and 8 RBIs in 30 games as a Met. That’s not terrible if you’re a pitcher pinch-hitting in extra innings, but from an everyday center fielder? It’s been rough.

Sure, there have been flashes. A two-RBI day in Atlanta, the occasional stolen base, a double here or there. It’s like having tickets for a Tom Seaver vs. Bob Gibson showdown at Shea, only to find out both got scratched and you’re watching Don Cardwell versus Nelson Briles. Sure, it’s still baseball, but it’s not the kind you brag about to your grandkids.

To further add to the frustration, on July 30 the Mets also traded away center fielder Drew Gilbert, along with José Buttó and Blade Tidwell, to the Giants for much-needed bullpen help in the form of Tyler Rogers. Once again full disclosure: with Carson Benge waiting in the wings, I was fine with letting Gilbert go.

Except Gilbert has wasted no time making himself at home in San Francisco. In his first 62 at-bats with the Giants, he’s hitting .242 with 3 homers, 12 RBIs, and a .757 OPS (113 OPS+). Not earth-shattering, but when the guy you traded for is batting .174 in Queens, it stings. Watching Gilbert knock a couple into McCovey Cove while Mullins rolls over another grounder to second or foul out when trying to sacrifice in a key spot has been a very Mets brand of irony.

Here’s the thing: all of this probably doesn’t even happen if José Siri never got hurt.

When the Mets acquired Siri in the offseason, I was on record saying he’d have a huge impact on the season. I just didn’t mean in a negative way. His fractured left tibia in April 2025 set off a domino effect , suddenly center field became a revolving door, and the front office had to pivot at the deadline. Hence Mullins. Hence Gilbert’s departure. Hence the frustration.

Siri, when healthy, is one of the best defensive center fielders in the game. Sharp routes, instinctive jumps, sneaky-good arm. Add in elite speed (he once had the fastest sprint speed of any MLB center fielder), plus some occasional pop and base-stealing ability, and he was supposed to be the everyday stabilizer in center. Instead, he’s played just 10 games with the big league club this year.

The silver lining? Siri may not be done yet. Currently on rehab assignment between Single-A and Triple-A, the 30-year-old is slashing .269/.321/.462 with three extra-base hits (a homer, two doubles) and 7 RBIs. With Tyrone Taylor sidelined, Siri could slot back into the outfield mix soon — and maybe, just maybe, undo some of this domino effect before the year’s out.

Mullins isn’t loafing. He plays hard, he hustles, and he clearly cares. This isn’t a matter of effort. Baseball is hard—ridiculously so—and every guy who puts on that uniform has my respect. But the Mets didn’t trade for “respectable effort.” They traded for production.

And right now, Cedric Mullins is a little like that new gadget you order from Temu: looks good in the ad, shows up in the box, and then you realize it doesn’t quite do what it promised.

The good news? There’s still time. Baseball seasons are marathons, not sprints, and Mullins has the kind of track record that says he can turn things around. Maybe a few bloopers drop in, maybe he lasers one into the gap, maybe—just maybe a runner actually doesn’t take the extra base on him.

And if Siri comes back and gives the Mets the spark they were hoping for back in April, maybe all of this becomes less of a lament and more of a “remember when.”

Mets fans live on hope. We’ve endured Juan Samuel — speed demon extraordinaire, thrillingly inconsistent, a man who made every basepath adventure feel like a mini-series. Cedric Mullins’ Mets chapter isn’t as cinematic more like penciled-in notes with eraser smudges. But hey, silver lining: we didn’t have to give up Lenny Dykstra to get here.