The Mets don’t shop the clearance rack the way most teams do. They treat it like a treasure hunt. Every spring there’s a fresh batch of arms walking into camp with scuffed résumés, uneven stat lines, and one stubborn belief that they’ve still got something left in the tank. And the Mets, stubborn in their own way, keep buying.
This isn’t random. It’s a philosophy. The front office has spent the last few years scooping up pitchers on minor league deals the same way a sharp poker player keeps calling small bets, waiting for the right hand to flip.
The Lotto-Ticket Pitching Factory
They’ve done this dance before during the offseason with names like Craig Kimbrel, plus a rotating cast of depth arms who float in and out of the system. Some will stick for a month, some will vanish before April’s over, and a rare few turn into real bullpen help when the schedule starts chewing through innings.
It’s not glamorous work, but it’s practical. The modern season eats pitching staffs alive, and depth isn’t optional anymore. Teams that pretend otherwise usually spend July begging for innings.
That’s why Thursday’s addition fits perfectly. Bryce Conley isn’t here to sell jerseys. He’s here because the Mets think there’s still a usable pitcher buried somewhere in that uneven track record.
A Career That Refuses to Quit
Bryce Conley is 31 and still waiting for his first major league inning, which usually tells you how the industry views a player. Organizations don’t accidentally forget about future stars for nearly a decade. Still, baseball careers aren’t linear, and Conley’s path has been anything but smooth.
Last season with the Washington Nationals system summed him up perfectly. He carved up Double-A hitters with a 3.20 ERA in 45 innings, then got knocked around in Triple-A to the tune of a 6.11 mark over 73.2 frames. Same arm. Same year. Totally different results.
That inconsistency is the whole story. Drafted 651st overall by the Oakland Athletics back in 2017, he once flashed enough promise to sneak onto prospect radars. Since then he’s bounced through 160 minor league games, posting a 4.53 ERA and a 1.36 WHIP — numbers that scream “organizational depth” more than “late bloomer.”
But the Mets aren’t pretending he’s an ace. They’re betting he might be useful. Big difference.
Why the Mets Keep Doing This
This strategy really comes down to infrastructure. Under pitching coach Justin Willard, the organization believes it can squeeze value out of arms other teams write off. New grips, altered pitch usage, mechanical tweaks, better data feedback — modern pitching labs have revived more careers than fans realize.
You don’t need every signing to hit. You just need one or two each year to stabilize the back end of the staff when injuries pile up and doubleheaders start appearing like potholes.
That’s the quiet genius here. The Mets aren’t chasing miracles. They’re stockpiling possibilities. And in a 162-game season where pitching depth disappears fast, that’s not gambling.
That’s survival.
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