New York Upstate of Mind, Stop No. 1 Syracuse: Prospects, Pop Flies, and 46 Degrees of Baseball

There’s something wonderfully unpolished about minor league baseball on a cold, damp night in Syracuse.

Maybe it’s the smell of wet concrete mixing with ballpark hot dogs. Maybe it’s the handful of fans huddled under hoodies and blankets like they’re reenacting a Civil War encampment instead of watching Triple-A baseball. Or maybe it’s the simple beauty of watching young players stand one step away from the major leagues, carrying all the hope, nerves, swagger, and uncertainty that comes with chasing a dream that only a tiny fraction of humanity ever reaches.

Whatever it is, Stop No. 1 on our *New York Upstate of Mind* Mets minor league road trip had all of it.

The rain hovered over Syracuse all day like an unpaid parking ticket you hoped might disappear. By first pitch at NBT Bank Stadium, the temperature sat at 46 degrees with cloudy skies and an 8 mph breeze that somehow felt colder than advertised. The announced attendance was 1,511, though I’m fairly certain someone counted several seagulls seeking shelter as paid customers.

And honestly? That made it even better.

Because in a baseball world now overflowing with billion-dollar contracts, launch angles, sponsored patches, and enough LED lights to land a plane at LaGuardia, there’s still something pure about a cold Wednesday night in Triple-A where a few hundred diehards gather to watch the future arrive in real time.

Before the game, I had the chance to sit down with three young Mets prospects — A.J. Ewing, Ryan Lambert, and Alex Carrillo — all thoughtful, grounded kids trying to survive the baseball meat grinder one bus ride at a time. Then a few hours later, we got to watch many of the Mets’ top prospects take the field together.

For the most part, they didn’t disappoint.

The star of the night may have been starting pitcher Jack Wenninger, who was absolutely dominant. Wenninger attacked hitters all evening, mixing pitches with confidence and looking completely unfazed by the cold, the rain threat, or the fact that the Rochester lineup featured several legitimate prospects. He pitched like a man who understood that after 9 p.m. in Syracuse, your culinary options rapidly narrow to gas station roller food, a drive-thru with one flickering light bulb, or rolling the dice on whether the patty between those two buns at the local bar and grill is actually ground beef.

The Mets’ highly intriguing top of the lineup featured A.J. Ewing, Nick Morabito, and Ryan Clifford — three players who represent very different skill sets but together form a pretty fascinating glimpse into the organization’s future.

Ewing, batting leadoff and playing right field, went 0-for-3 with a walk, though the stat line doesn’t tell the whole story. He smoked a ball that looked ticketed for extra bases before Rochester right fielder Dylan Crews made a full-extension grab that probably violated several laws of physics. Ewing consistently made hard contact and continued to look like a player growing more comfortable at this level by the day. He’s now hitting a scorching .393, which is the kind of batting average that in Syracuse weather should qualify him for heated seating.

Morabito, patrolling center field, finished 1-for-4 and continued to do what Morabito does: create chaos, cover ground, and generally look like a baseball player from 1985 who accidentally wandered into 2026. He’s now hitting .283 and remains one of the more entertaining players in the system to watch because every at-bat feels like it could turn into a sprint, a stolen base, or somebody diving into a tarp.

Then there was Ryan Clifford.

Clifford went 2-for-4, launched his sixth home run of the season, and nearly caused structural damage to NBT Bank Stadium in the process. His first-inning homer came off the bat at 112.6 mph, which is less “baseball swing” and more “small meteor entering Earth’s atmosphere.” The ball disappeared into the cold Syracuse night in a hurry, giving the Mets an early lead and briefly warming everyone in attendance by at least three degrees. Clifford is now hitting .243, though numbers alone don’t quite capture the raw thunder in his bat.

And that’s the thing about nights like this.

You sit in a chilly ballpark with a couple thousand people, scorebook in hand, watching kids chase the biggest dream of their lives. Some will make it. Some won’t. Some may become stars at Citi Field. Others may become answers to trivia questions only guys like me care about 20 years from now.

But for one cold night in Syracuse, all of them were right there on the final rung before The Show.

And honestly, there’s something beautiful about that.

On to Binghamton to see the Rumble Ponies