More Than a Start: Kodai Senga, Carlos Mendoza, and a Day That Feels Heavy in Queens

If you’ve been a long-time reader of this site, you already know something about us: we are not the “Fire the manager! Fire the GM! Trade the mascot!” crowd. That’s not our style. Knee-jerk reactions belong in sports talk radio at 2:17 a.m., not here.

You also know this: I’ve admired Carlos Mendoza from the day he walked into Queens. His work ethic is real. His communication style is modern. His players, by all accounts, respect him. And no, the Mets’ current funk is not something you can neatly hang around his neck like a Citi Field souvenir lanyard.

But—and in baseball, there is always a but the size of Shea Stadium’s old center field scoreboard—this is a results-driven business. It always has been. It always will be. Managers are judged less on process and more on what the standings say when you open the newspaper (or, for the under-40 crowd, your phone).

And the standings aren’t kind.

Let’s lay it out plainly. Over the last six months of baseball, the Mets have had exactly two winning month. Two. including a month that they only played 5 games just to be kind :

2025

June: 12–15

July: 14–10

August: 11–17

September: 10–15

2026

March: 3–2

April: 6–16 (Headed into game 2)

That’s a combined record of 53–75, which comes out to a winning percentage of .414. In baseball terms, that’s not treading water—that’s taking on water.

Now, context matters. The 9–18 start? You can absolutely point to injuries. Juan Soto, Jorge Polanco, Francisco Lindor the engine of the team—all have spent time on the IL.

That’s not nothing. That’s significant.

But here’s the cold truth: every team has injuries. The good ones adjust. The great ones absorb them. The Mets…well, they’ve been more “duct tape and hope” than “next man up.”

Which brings us to today. A doubleheader. A tired fan base. And Kodai Senga potentially taking the mound in Game 2 with more than just a box score on the line. The Game 1 loss was the 14th defeat in the last 16 games, dropping the Mets to 9–18 and turning what once felt like a slow burn into something closer to a four-alarm alarm clock. Game 1 didn’t exactly inspire confidence either—a 3–1 loss in which the Mets managed just four hits, left six men on base, went 1-for-5 with runners in scoring position, and struck out ten times. In other words, the kind of offensive showing that makes you wonder if the bats accidentally got left on the team bus. Senga may not just be pitching for his Mets life tonight—he may also, whether fair or not, be pitching for Carlos Mendoza’s as well.

Because this is where the baseball calendar starts whispering uncomfortable things.

The Mets have an off day tomorrow. And if you’ve followed this game long enough, you know what off days are: they’re when organizations make decisions they didn’t want to make the day before.

Add another layer: the availability of proven managerial talent. Alex Cora, who spent two seasons wearing a Mets uniform, was let go by Boston despite a résumé that includes a World Series title in 2018 and multiple postseason appearances. Managers like that don’t stay unemployed long.

And here’s where it gets interesting. According to reports, Dave Dombrowski —now running the Phillies—has long admired Cora from their time together in Boston. The Philadelphia Phillies after another loss, sit at 8–19. That’s not a slump; that’s a free fall without a parachute.

Public votes of confidence are nice. They last about as long as a car reservation at the rental counter in Seinfeld—technically real, practically gone the second you need it.

Meanwhile, over in the NHL, the New York Islanders recently fired Patrick Roy with four games left in the season after a 7–10–0 stretch put their playoff hopes in danger. Why? In part because Peter DeBoer was out there, available, and likely to be in demand.

Sound familiar?

You don’t need to squint too hard to see the parallel. High-end managerial candidates rarely sit on the shelf. When one appears, teams start acting less patient and more…decisive.

Which brings us back to Queens and David Stearns.

Stearns is not impulsive. He’s methodical. Thoughtful. The kind of executive who probably reads the instructions before assembling the IKEA bookshelf. But even the most patient architects of a franchise know the old baseball truth:

You can’t fire 26 players. (27 today, thanks to the doubleheader.)

So what happens if the Mets come out in Game 2 flat? If the at-bats look like they’re being taken with a blindfold and a polite suggestion? If the body language screams louder than the scoreboard?

My gut—never a scientific instrument, but rarely silent—is this:

A listless loss today, followed by an off day tomorrow, could be the moment the conversation turns into action.

Not because Carlos Mendoza forgot how to manage.

Not because he lost the room.

But because baseball, for all its nuance and unfairness, still comes down to results. And right now, the results are making a very uncomfortable argument.

One that even a site like this—reluctant, measured, and not prone to torches and pitchforks—can’t completely ignore anymore.