Matt Harvey Is Wide Awake in the Mets' Dream Season

Mets fans have a complicated relationship with Matt Harvey. The reason why is simple: he's broken the compact.

No, not the part about baseball being a business, although, sure, there were many curious notes in Harvey's consideration of taking proactive measures to protect his arm—or shutting himself down early, in plainer language—once it became clear that the "2015 National League East Champion Mets" was really going to happen. There's a larger compact that the entire fan base, and even the baseball ops department, has permitted themselves this season. From the end of July on, there's been a collective decision to forget everything that defines the New York Mets.

It's been great. The Mets are performing miracles, a two-month stretch of bliss that continued Monday night, with a 13-7 win at Citi Field over the Dodgers in Game 3 of the NLDS. Harvey got the win, but once again he served as a bridge between the team's messy past and its giddy present.

At the beginning of August, the Mets ranked fifteenth in the National League in hitting, which isn't ideal in a 15-team league; they proceeded to pace the National League in most offensive categories after the non-waiver trade deadline on July 31. Seemingly certain gut-wrenching losses turned into improbable comeback wins. Those typical #LOLMets moments still happened—the ham-fisted PR botches and, on field, the sonic-boom brain farts that have been the team's unofficial M.O. for the better part of a decade—but somehow they swung to the team's advantage.

Wilmer Flores crying on the CitField infield because he believed, erroneously, that he'd been dealt to Milwaukee in a rumored deal that fell through was #LOLMets. Because these are this year's Mets, though, that moment led to Flores hitting a walk-off homer in a huge game against the Nationals several days later, and the trade that actually happened brought aboard Yoenis Cespedes. David Wright missing 115 games with spinal stenosis was typical star-crossed luck for the Mets, but the insurance on his contract enabled the cash-strapped front office to afford Cespedes and other crucial deadline acquisitions. Everything, for months, has been coming up Milhouse.

And so, after seven years of losing and finely parsed lies from the front office about its financial state, everyone has agreed to enjoy the moment. There is no time for worrying about losing Cespedes this offseason, even though he's a free-agent-to-be who will command more than anybody believes the Mets can or will spend. No concerns that longtime Met Daniel Murphy, more valuable than people generally realize, simply won't fit into the current payroll. No concern about where the Mets are going to get more offense beyond Michael Conforto playing a full season and David Wright and Travis d'Arnaud staying healthier. These are issues for another day; today is looking great.

And that's ultimately what got everybody so angry with Matt Harvey. When first Scott Boras and then Harvey himself had the temerity to suggest, late in the season, that if Dr. James Andrews thought Harvey shouldn't pitch more than he already had, perhaps he ought to consider stopping, it wrenched things out of the moment. The Mets and their fans are dreaming that the improbable never stops coming, of a parade down the Canyon of Heroes. Hearing Harvey and his representation coolly discuss future earnings and his 2018 free agency is, contextually, quite a buzzkill; speaking to reporters prior to Game 1 of the NLDS, the mere appearance of Boras in their lives represented a breaking of the code. Mets fans are trying desperately to dream here, and Harvey keeps dragging reality into it.

Understand this: if the Mets thought they had a legitimate shot at the postseason, they would have eased down on Harvey's innings much earlier in the year—not just for his health but to make certain the team had the freshest, best possible Harvey for October. But nobody thought this Mets team had enough to take the Nationals. Even after its flurry of deadline moves, those in the Mets front office to whom I spoke shrugged their shoulders. For them, too, this season has been a collective "Well, why not?"

For a baseball ops department tasked with building a winning team despite the headwind of the Wilpon financial foibles, this moment matters most—if only because there's no guarantee that their great pitchers will be this heavy and their offensive mix this right ever again. And, despite this dream run, ownership will still need to spend money it might not have to move things forward. But we're in the real world again.

Time was, Harvey was himself the dream, the antidote to all that ailed the Mets whenever he pitched. Fans made Citi Field sound like Shea when Harvey dominated for most of 2013, and the progress the team showed in 2014 still felt somewhat hollow without Harvey there to make it whole. It's remarkable to consider how central Harvey was to the team's marketing campaign as recently as June and July, and that no one had much to say when the Mets made him their third starter in the playoffs.

Then fate provided Harvey with the first start after Chase Utley went and broke Ruben Tejada's leg with a rolling block in the guise of a takeout slide. That Tejada is the only actual shortstop the team has under contract anywhere close to the majors—Flores is a folk hero, but nobody's idea of a shortstop—is a reminder of just how much this playoff run exists absent a safety net. But Mets fans weren't worrying about that. Their question, after Utley's slide, was whether Harvey would exact vengeance on Utley, or some other Dodger. The situation drove one WFAN caller to tears.

As Will in Queens put it, "Harvey better step up tomorrow night. I'm disgusted with him, but this is his one chance. Put the team on your back, and then you've got my faith back in you." Strong takes.

In Harvey's other ear was Terry Collins, who said Monday afternoon, "I've had my conversation with Matt. We're not throwing at anybody. We'll worry about this stuff at another date."

Harvey wisely listened to his manager, not the guy crying on Mike Francesa's shoulder, but the Harvey that Mets fans remember wasn't on display Monday night. He allowed four consecutive hits and three runs to put the Mets behind, and there was almost a feeling of inevitability in the crowd—the guy who dared to suggest that he'd put his health ahead of October glory had this coming. Harvey failed to get a bunt down, and a fan yelled out, "Come on, you owe us!"

Then the Mets pulled off the win, and nobody seemed to mind that it happened without Harvey doing much, odd as that might have seemed just a few months ago. Five innings, three runs allowed was enough to get Harvey a win, but was hardly the stuff of SI covers and superhero nicknames. Harvey was almost incidental to the bigger thing going on around him.

He may remain that way. It's hard to see how Harvey ever reclaims that spot in the hearts of Mets fans, even with a strong postseason. Unless the Mets fundamentally change how they do business, 2015 will stand as a magical moment remembered by a generation of fans in the vein of 1969 or 1986. If it all goes right, Lucas Duda will never buy a drink in this town again.

And, if all goes right, Harvey will move toward exponentially more expensive paydays, then free agency, and finally a contract with a team that can pay him more than the Mets owners could. That reality is out there, as is the fact that, in the offseason and perpetually beyond that, hitters will cost more and more money, creditors will need their interest payments and, eventually, their loans repaid. The Mets will still be the Mets.

If this is as good as it gets, a generation of Mets fans will drink deeply from the reservoir of 2015 memories for years to come. If Harvey's pitching helps them get there, great, but it's easy to understand the unease surrounding him. He shatters this season's sweet illusion, and that is not what Mets fans want right now. In this moment, and for who knows how much longer, all things are possible, and the Mets aren't the Mets.