Andres Chavez
The split between the New York Mets and Pete Alonso still feels like one of those moves you read twice just to make sure it’s real. Seven seasons, 264 homers, rookie records, franchise history rewritten — and then poof, gone to Baltimore like it was nothing. Mets fans didn’t just lose a slugger. They lost the soundtrack to half a decade of summer nights.
And if you want to know why the whole thing still stings, listen to Darryl Strawberry. He didn’t sugarcoat it. Not even a little.
Strawberry said the quiet part out loud
Strawberry’s reaction wasn’t diplomatic, and honestly, that’s why it landed. He sees Alonso walking away from a chance to own the Mets record book forever, and to him that’s not just a baseball decision — it’s a life one.
“Pete could have broken all the records and could have been on top of every offensive category for this organization,” Strawberry told the New York Post. “One day he is going to wake up just like I did and regret you didn’t stick where you are at.”
That’s not analysis. That’s a warning.
Strawberry doubled down, too, and the second quote is the one Mets fans felt in their bones. “I just don’t leave New York to go to Baltimore,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, I am not getting on Baltimore. But I am saying, this is New York, come on. Baltimore is a good place, but it’s not New York.”
You can argue tone, but you can’t argue the emotion. In Queens, legends don’t just play — they live forever.
The Mets didn’t lose Alonso in free agency — they lost him in trust
Here’s the part nobody in the front office wants to say out loud. Alonso didn’t leave because he suddenly hated New York. He left because the Mets never fully showed they believed in him long term.
Last winter told the whole story. His market froze, the Mets slow-played negotiations, and the deal he eventually signed felt more like a placeholder than a commitment.
So Alonso went out and mashed again. A 141 wRC+ and 38 homers in 2025 wasn’t just production, it was leverage. His power numbers stayed elite, his exit velocity stayed thunderous, and suddenly the risk argument didn’t look so convincing anymore.
When the Baltimore Orioles stepped in with five years and $155 million, that wasn’t just a contract. That was validation.
This wasn’t about market size — it was about belief
Yes, Strawberry’s right that New York is different. Bigger stage, louder crowds, deeper history. You hit 40 homers in Queens and you’re part of the franchise’s mythology forever.
But players don’t sign monuments. They sign security.
Baltimore sold Alonso on a contending core, a lineup built to mash, and a real window to win now. The Mets never really showed they wanted him back, not at his cost.
What hurts most for the Mets isn’t the stats — it’s the identity
Replacing Alonso’s production will be hard. Replacing what he meant is harder.
He was the face in the lineup card, the guy pitchers worked around, the one who made Citi Field buzz before the ball even left his bat. Teams don’t just plug that in with a cheaper option and move on. It doesn’t work like that. Fans don’t feel spreadsheets.
Maybe Strawberry’s right and one day Alonso wishes he stayed. Baseball has a funny way of making players sentimental once the roar fades and the milestones stop coming. But ultimately, he got a much better deal and took it. He needed to decide what was best for his family, and you can’t blame him for that.
Alonso didn’t look back. He looked at the Mets’ hesitation, looked at Baltimore’s belief, and chose the one that felt real.
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