The Next OMG? Why Craig Kimbrel Might Be This Year’s Jose Iglesias (Yes, Really)
- Mark Rosenman
- 2 days ago
- 6 min read
Every great baseball season has that guy.
Not the guy you bought the jersey for in March. Not the guy on the billboard. Not even the guy your fantasy team overdrafted while you were distracted by a chicken parm hero.
I’m talking about that guy the one who shows up somewhere between Memorial Day and your first sunburn, shrugs, and somehow becomes part baseball player, part good luck charm, and part “how did we ever win without him?”
In the 2024 season, for the Mets, that guy was Jose Iglesias.
And no, I did not nor did anyone else for that matter, have that on their bingo cards. My bingo card had things like “bullpen stability,” “healthy rotation,” and “no emotional damage.” Clearly, my bingo card was printed by a Mets fan, so it was flawed from the start.
But Iglesias? He was supposed to be organizational depth. A veteran who didn’t even make the team out of spring training. A guy who had a conversation with David Stearns, went to Syracuse, and probably figured his biggest New York contribution would be knowing where to find good pizza upstate.
Instead, he comes up on May 31 and proceeds to hit like Cleon Jones possessed his bat.
By the All-Star break? He’s batting .380 with a .999 OPS.
Let me repeat that for dramatic effect—and because I’m still not entirely sure I believe it—.380.
From the moment he arrived, the Mets went 26–13. From May 31 through the end of the season, they went 66–40. That’s not a coincidence. That’s not “small sample size.” That’s what we in the business call “something weird is happening and I like it.”
Oh—and he recorded a song called “OMG” that became the team anthem.
Because of course he did.
And when Jeff McNeil got hurt in September, Iglesias just slid over, kept hitting, and casually posted a 22-game hitting streak at .395. No big deal. Just your standard “guy who wasn’t good enough to make the team in March” stuff.
That’s how baseball works. It’s a sport built on failure, unpredictability, and the occasional Latin pop single.
Which brings me to 2026.
And Craig Kimbrel.
Yes, that Craig Kimbrel.
The one with the Hall-of-Fame résumé. The one with the herky-jerky delivery that looks like he’s about to summon a fastball from another dimension. The one who is now 37, walking a few too many hitters, and currently hanging out in Mets camp like a guy who showed up early for a party that hasn’t started yet.
Let’s be honest—if you were making a list of players most likely to become the Mets’ unexpected spark this year, Kimbrel probably wouldn’t crack your top 25. He might not crack your top 50. He might not crack your “guys I remember are still pitching” list.
He didn’t make the team out of camp. He had a 4.50 ERA this spring. Five walks in six innings is not exactly “bring out the trumpets” material.
And yet…
He’s staying.
He had opt-outs, plural. Built-in escape hatches like a baseball Houdini. He passed on the first one. Didn’t take it. Now, that doesn’t mean he won’t pull the lever on one of the next two dates, this is still a guy with options and a résumé, but for now he’s staying. Hanging around in Florida. Waiting. Watching. Probably checking his phone like the rest of us, just with slightly better arm strength.
Waiting for what?
Opportunity.
And if you watched the Mets bullpen last year, you know opportunity in that department tends to show up like an uninvited relative frequently and at the worst possible times.
The Mets cycled through relievers like I cycle through excuses for why I’m still eating ballpark nachos in the seventh inning. At some point, they’re going to need arms. Plural.
And when that moment comes, Craig Kimbrel might be sitting right there.
Now, let’s not pretend this is 2013 Kimbrel. The guy who struck out everyone except maybe the bat boy. This version comes with quirks—walks, the occasional long ball, and the general unpredictability of a veteran reliever who has seen everything except maybe a Mets season that makes complete sense.
And here’s where it gets interesting.
Because when I spoke to Kimbrel back at the start of camp, this didn’t sound like a guy looking for one last cameo. This sounded like someone who still believes there’s something left to write.
“I feel like I still have quite a bit in the tank,” he told me. “I’m happy they gave me the opportunity to come here and hopefully show that.”
That’s not nostalgia talking. That’s not a farewell tour. That’s a guy trying to stick.
In fact, when the subject of “going out on his own terms” came up, Kimbrel practically waved it off like a bad slider.
“I don’t feel like I’m going out. I wouldn’t be here if that was the case… I’m doing my best to stay in right now.”
That’s a very different mindset than “former closer trying to hang on.” That’s a competitor.
And maybe more importantly for a Mets team that, let’s be honest, is going to need contributions from everywhere and everyone, Kimbrel understands something that a lot of younger players are still figuring out.
“This is a game that you can’t rely on one person the entire year,” he said. “It could be a guy that comes up for one or two days, but that one game that he may contribute might be the difference in making the playoffs or not.”
Read that again.
Because that’s your Jose Iglesias blueprint.
Not “carry the team.” Not “be the star.” Just show up, be ready, and when your moment comes—deliver something that matters.
Kimbrel has lived that life from the other end of the spectrum. He’s been the guy. The closer. The one everyone counts on.
Now? He might be the guy who shows up in June, or July, or whenever the bullpen inevitably sends out an SOS, and gives you something you didn’t plan for—but suddenly can’t live without.
And if that sounds unlikely…
So did a .380-hitting infielder with a hit song called “OMG.”
But here’s the thing about teams that win.
They always get something unexpected.
It’s never just the stars. It’s never just the script you wrote in March. Somewhere along the way, a player you didn’t count on becomes a piece you can’t imagine living without.
In 2024, it was Iglesias.
In 2026?
Why not Kimbrel?
Maybe it starts with a call-up in June when the bullpen is gassed and the schedule looks like it was designed by a sadist. Maybe he strings together a few clean innings. Maybe the strikeout rate ticks up. Maybe—just maybe—he finds a groove.
And suddenly, the guy who was an afterthought in March is jogging in from the bullpen in meaningful games in August.
Baseball does this. It taps you on the shoulder and says, “You thought you knew how this story goes? That’s adorable.”
Am I saying Craig Kimbrel will be this year’s Jose Iglesias?
No.
I’m saying he could be.
But here’s the thing and this is where baseball laughs at all of us who think we’ve got it figured out it might not be Kimbrel at all.
It could be someone not even in the organization right now.
It could be a familiar face like Drew Smith, who quietly put up a spotless spring with the Nationals before getting released, the kind of move that barely registers in March but somehow turns into a key bullpen piece by July.
It could be Joey Lucchesi, who opted out with the Giants looking for a real opportunity, the same Joey Fuego Mets fans have seen get hot in stretches where you start thinking, “Wait a minute…is this something?”
It could even be Max Kranick, a guy the Mets moved on from more out of circumstance than certainty, the kind of arm that disappears for a bit and then reappears exactly when somebody needs him.
That’s the point.
These guys the Kimbrels, the Smiths, the Lucchesis, the Kranicks—they live in that space between “afterthought” and “indispensable.” Most of the time, they stay invisible.
And then once in a while, one of them becomes Jose Iglesias.
Not because you planned it.
Because baseball did.
And if you’ve followed this team long enough—from Shea to Citi, from miracles to heartbreaks to whatever we call the last few seasons—you know that sometimes the most important player is the one you never saw coming.
So keep an eye on Florida.
Keep an eye on Syracuse.
Keep an eye on the guy who didn’t make the team.
And while you’re at it, keep an eye on the transaction section of the sports page—because sometimes the next unexpected hero isn’t even in Queens yet.
Because somewhere between now and October, the Mets are going to need a little magic again.
And Craig Kimbrel might just have one more “OMG” left in that right arm. Or maybe it’s Drew Smith. Or Joey Lucchesi. Or Max Kranick. Baseball has a way of handing you heroes and stories you didn’t see coming.
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