The Mets didn’t just lose a shortstop when Francisco Lindor went under the knife on February 11. They lost their metronome, their emotional thermostat, the one guy in that clubhouse who can flip a bad Tuesday into a winning streak by sheer force of personality. And yeah, the surgery timeline says six weeks, which sounds neat and tidy on paper, but baseball bodies don’t heal on spreadsheets.
This isn’t a broken pinky you tape up and grind through. Hamate issues linger, sap juice, turn pull-side rockets into warning-track outs. Just ask anyone who’s tracked post-hamate slugging dips across the league the last decade — the power outage is real, and it usually sticks around longer than teams admit publicly.
The Mets Don’t Need April Lindor — They Need October Lindor
The update from Anthony DiComo on Saturday felt small, almost boring. Big wrap off, smaller bandage on, still no baseball work. On the surface, that’s nothing. In spring training reality, that’s everything.
Because “no setbacks” is the only phrase that matters right now. The Mets don’t win the division in March, and they sure as hell don’t lose it if Lindor misses the first week or two.
Look at what he’s been for the New York Mets lately. Ninety-five homers, ninety-one stolen bases since 2023, elite defense that metrics still drool over, and durability that made him basically lineup cement. He’s good for about 160 games a year in Queens, which in modern baseball is borderline superhero stuff.
That’s why this whole situation isn’t really about Opening Day. It’s about whether the bat has its normal snap by June.
Hamate History Isn’t Kind to Hitters
We literally watched this movie last season with Francisco Alvarez. Different injury, sure, but same principle: hand trouble wrecks timing, and timing is everything. Alvarez didn’t look like himself for weeks, lost rhythm, lost confidence, and only looked dangerous again once his body fully cooperated.
That’s the hidden risk with Lindor. Not whether he plays Opening Day, but whether he plays like Lindor when he does.
If he comes back at 80 percent, the Mets get the glove, the leadership, the swagger. Nice. If the power lags, though, suddenly the lineup leans way harder on Juan Soto and whatever version of the supporting cast shows up that month. That’s how April losses pile up.
Still, there’s a reason nobody inside that building sounds panicked. Lindor’s at Clover Park with the club, moving around, staying visible, staying loud. That stuff matters more than fans think. A captain who disappears into rehab rooms can feel distant. Lindor doesn’t operate that way.
And honestly? The Mets should treat Opening Day like a soft suggestion, not a deadline. If he’s ready, great. If he’s not, sit him.
Because the only version of this season that ends well is the one where Lindor is healthy, explosive, and chirping in the dugout when the games actually count. Not limping through April just to satisfy the calendar.
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