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Francisco Lindor will make $341 million over 10 years with the Mets, but he cannot buy the thing he most covets. A World Series ring, sure. But also a World Series sweatshirt.
He showed up at work Thursday, the day before his Mets face the Padres in the three-game National League wild-card Series, to find the next-best thing waiting for him at his locker: a bunch of stuff with the word POSTSEASON inscribed across it.
“It feels pretty damn good to go into a clubhouse and smell the new gear that you get,” he says, his smile taking up half his face. “I’m like a little kid.”
He added, “This is the best time of the year. Spring training is great, because you get cool stuff, but this is the best time.”
Indeed, players on both teams Thursday were buzzing about their playoff paraphernalia. The wardrobe includes T-shirts, sweatshirts and hats, plus jerseys bearing a postseason patch. The logos change slightly each year; many are emblazoned with 2022’s MLB postseason slogan, which for some reason is October Rise. The shirts are made of cotton, the hats of polyester. They’re comfortable, but no more so than anything you could buy at your local sporting-goods store. But that’s not the point, of course.
“It’s like if you’ve ever had a cup of coffee in a really beautiful place,” says center fielder Brandon Nimmo. “You’re like, ‘Oh my gosh, this cup of coffee is so amazing!’ If I had it back home it might be the same old coffee, but because of the circumstances that are around it, it’s awesome.” He added that he has been enviously watching the playoffs on TV for the past five years, since the Mets last made it in 2016, staring at the games—and also staring at the gear.
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Lindor just finished his eighth year in the majors, and Friday will mark his fifth playoff appearance, including a 2016 World Series run with Cleveland. A wine cellar at his Florida house is overflowing with all the pairs of New Balance sneakers the company sends him; he hands them out to anyone in his orbit. But the gear still smells good.
“I’m a human being!” he says. “Whenever you get something new and cool, it feels good. And you work all season and you show up to the stadium and you have a hoodie like that, you have a hat with a new patch, a new jersey, it feels good.” He added, “We can't forget how blessed we are in life.”
And, players point out, they love what the stuff represents. “To be able to earn that patch that says postseason, earning that postseason patch on your hat—that’s sick,” says first baseman Pete Alonso, who is about to enjoy his first taste of the playoffs and bought new bats to mark the occasion. “It's awesome getting new stuff, but to be a part of something that you earned even though it's as simple as having a postseason patch or whatever—we earned that. We earned that privilege to have that on our jersey. We earned [the chance] to be able to have that new stuff that not everyone's getting.” He added, “It’s almost like a rite of passage.”
Terrance Gore, a pinch-running specialist, has made rosters for eight postseason series: the 2014 AL wild card game, ALDS, ALCS and World Series with the Royals; the ’15 ALDS, ALCS and World Series with the Royals; the ’18 NL wild card game with the Cubs; and the ’21 NLDS, NLCS and World Series with Atlanta. He is almost certain to make the wild-card roster this year for the Mets. (That’s more than half as many playoff rosters as he has career regular-season hits. Eight.) So he is something of an expert in this department.
He explained that his teammates are thinking small with their enthusiasm over hoodies: A few years ago, Beats distributed new headphones to everyone on the roster, and he likes to collect his locker nameplates, a new one for each series. Don’t expect new bats for him this October—he doesn’t use them much anyway—but he says he will debut new cleats. He declined to detail their design. “Wait and see,” he says, grinning.
Alonso was willing to show off his new bats but not to have them photographed. “I can’t have you posting that!” he says. (He added that they were the same as his regular-season bats but were new.)
Even the snacks and drinks get replaced for the playoffs, as sponsors change. Clubbies rip logos off water bottles so as not to upset someone who has paid a lot of money for players to be shown drinking something else. The dugout backdrops get switched out, too. (No one interviewed seemed eager to take those home.)
The only downside of all this stuff is figuring out what to do with it after October. Gore keeps his swag in what he calls his man cave. Nimmo’s is in a closet. You can’t really wear it again—“You get put in kangaroo court” for that, says Padres reliever Craig Stammen, who in his 13th season now has swag from four different playoff runs. Mostly you hang onto it as a memento from a proud time in your life. Maybe you pass it down to your kids. Maybe you stick your nose in there and see if you can still smell the champagne.
Gore, for one, is looking forward to adding to his collection. Of all the gear from all the series, which item is his favorite?
He paused and thought about the aesthetic value of each individual logo, the comfort level of each T-shirt and sweatshirt. Then he smiled and said, “The ones that say World Series on them.”
