Another Open Letter To Steven A. Cohen
Dear Mr. Cohen,
I am going to begin this open letter the same I way began my previous publication, because despite the 4.5 years that have elapsed since I penned that epistolary and despite the MANY tremendous things that have changed in our lives as Mets fans over that time, I find that my words asking you to buy the Mets franchise are quite apropos yet again as we are about to embark on this period of free agency, with one ultimate goal in mind. A men by the name of Juan José Soto Pacheco. I'll remind you and my readers how I began my last correspondence, and I promise I will explain why those same words matter today:
Dear Mr. Cohen,
I hope this letter finds you well. I assume it will because according to my latest Google search, you're worth almost 14 billion dollars. I trust that a man of your means and success has almost everything he has ever wanted. And yet, it appears theres at least one thing you still yearn for. Something that still lights your fire. As an art connoisseur, I'm sure you can understand how satisfying it is to acquire that one work of art that completes your collection. Which is why I am begging…literally begging…you to make sure you win this bid.
I write this to you as a 35 year old Mets fan. I'm a member of what I like to call "The Worst Generation." Either too young or not alive at all for the Mets most recent World Title, we've spent the last 3+ decades wallowing in misery, and, at best, mediocrity. And even our bright spot moments - 1999, 2000, 2006, and 2015 - are marred with heartbreak and embarrassment. See: Ball Four Kenny Rogers, Steamrolled in the Subway Series, Beltran Looking, Leading the World Series for 89% of the games and inexplicably losing in 5 games. Insanity.
I'm writing this on behalf of all the life long fans who are truly questioning whether we can do this anymore. I'm a father of 2 writing this on behalf of all the other parents arriving at the depressing conclusion that it would be irresponsible to raise our children to root for the Mets franchise if its going to continue to be run the way it is. I'm writing this as a guy from the Bronx on behalf of all the second rate citizens of New York City who have effectively lived behind enemy lines our entire lives. With every newspaper headline we've ever seen reading "LOLMets" or showing us Derek Jeter lifting yet another trophy. I write this on behalf of all Mets fans bullied in school like a foreigner in his own country. On behalf of those mocked as an adult for being a grown ass, rational person still pouring my heart and soul into a franchise who quite literally does not give a fuck about how I feel. I write this on behalf of guys who took their balls and their bank account in their hands and risked their entire family's well being to create a legion of super fans who are somehow loud and proud despite the constantly tides of embarrassment. I write this on behalf of everyone who lived through:
1) The 2007 Collapse
2) The 2008 Collapse
3) Spinal Stenosis
4) Throwing firecrackers at little girls
5) Shooting reporters in the face with bleach
6) Watching our generational players fall victim to drugs only to win titles with the Yankees
7) Duaner Sanchez's cab ride
6) Generation K flopping
7) The 5 Aces flopping
8) Lastings Milledge, Fernando Martinez, Alex Ochoa/Escobar, Kevin McReynolds etc etc flopping
9) Bobby Bonilla Day every July 1
10) and most importantly, the Bernie Madoff Scandal
You can continue to read that original letter here, if you'd like, but to summarize, I went on to explain, in detail, the plight of this generation of Mets fans and I begged you to buy the franchise to change all of our lives. Also, in re-reading the first letter myself, I see that I confided in you the story of the time a high school bully threatened to have sex (in a very uncomfortble place) (like the back of a Volkswagon) with my then-girlfriend…all over a Mets-Yankees rivalry. I want to apologize for that anecdote. It was neither necessary nor effective, I would imagine. However, I'd still like to reference that initial letter because those indelible words that I wrote that day are eerily still very applicable and pertinent in the present day. So, I apologize for the very long winded prologue, but I will now begin my new, 2025 Open Letter To Steven A. Cohen, utilizing those same words with some updates:
Dear Mr. Cohen,
I hope this letter finds you well. I assume it will because according to my latest Google search, you're worth almost 14 billion dollars 21 billion dollars. I trust that a man of your means and success has almost everything he has ever wanted. Particulary after acquiring the baseball franchise you've rooted for your whole life, as well as begun the process to build the entertainment complex in Queens that quite literally transform one of New York's five boroughs and make it a place where people far and wide can bring their familes to enjoy their time at the ballpark and the surrounding amenities. And yet, it appears theres at least one thing you still yearn for. Something that still lights your fire. As an art connoisseur, I'm sure you can understand how satisfying it is to acquire that one work of art that completes your collection. Which is why I am begging…literally begging…you to make sure you win this bid sign Juan Soto.
Isn't it remarkable how, despite how much has changed, those words still apply today? All I had to do was update some some numbers and some facts, but we still find ourselves here, together, on the verge of something potentially spectacular. Once in a generation, once in a lifetime, once-in-the-history-of-the-sport type of spectacular. You've already pulled off one of the greatest acquisitions ever, and I assume that has brought you and your family tremendous amounts of prosperity and memories that will never be forgotten. Today, Mr. Cohen, we are on the verge of another potential acquistion that once again requires us all to dress for war and head back to the battlefield you know so well and have mastered over your lifetime - the negotiating table.
Now I hope you understand and know that I am not writing this from a place of greed. I am very aware of all the incredible memories we created over the last 5 years (including 2 incredible seasons that were quite literally the 2 of the best in franchise history, despite failing to reach our ultimate goal) in the brief time you have owned this team. When you first purchased the Mets, I said it was a material fact that we would win the World Series within 10 years:
And I'd say withing the first 5 years you've made enormous strides towards my arbitrary-but-fair deadline. I believed unwinding the Wilpons failures alone would have taken the first 5 years. For Mets fans, I likened your purchasing of the Mets to being passengers on a cruise ship headed in the wrong direction. Forgive me for this symbolism, as I know you're a man of class and means, so I'm almost certain you dont even know what a cruise is. Like the actual physical structure, or the experience. A cruise ship, Steve, is a nautical form of public transportaion for poverty people that you're trapped in for days on end. But poor people on earth board this vagrancy vessel with the plan of enjoying food, lodgings, and entertainment that are all inferior to those same experiences on land. The Poors simply choose to have these experiences on a boat instead of on land for some inexplicable reason. I'm assuming the main reason being the cost, because again, they are poor. A friend of ours Bill Burr once famously said we should actually begin systematically bombing cruise ships to thin the herd and elevate the gene pool:
But anyway I digress. The pros and cons of cruise vacations are neither here nor there. The point was rather to reference the size and speed of the cruise ship and envisioning how slow, long and hard of a process it would be if you needed to completely turn a cruise ship around 180 degrees. Because thats what the Wilpon Mets felt like. A shitty, broken, antiquated behemoth going the wrong direction that needed a captain to simultaneously reverse course while also updating the vessel cosmetically and structurally while completely overhauling all the ongoings that occur during its travels. I thought purging the Wilpon Mets of all its competence and creating a modern day organization with proper infrastructure would take up the majority of my made up 10 yr plan. Making the NEW YORK METS, the team that is the butt of every joke in and out of sports, a place that is a desirable, dream location for employees both on and off the field - if possible at all - was going to take a long time.
But I was wrong. Even with the added hurdles of A) acquiring the team directly after the Beltran cheating headache, 2) finding out that your first GM hire was a pervert, and d) finding out his replacement was a drunk, the franchise still changed at an insanely rapid rate. 2022 was the best regular season this generation of Mets fans had ever seen. For most of us, it was the first time we saw 100 wins. And if it wasnt for the goddam Braves playing like .800 ball for the final 4 months of the season, I believe our postseason could have and would have gone very differently that year.
Despite that terrible postseason, it was a big step forward for the franchise. The first step, if you will. A huge upswing. To put it in familiar terms for a man like yourself, the way I view the timeline of a sports franchise is much like the trajectory of a stock or an index, and 2022 was a bull market for the Mets. I liken a sports franchise to the Dow or the S&P - enduring short term ups and downs, but overall continued growth over the long term. Thats the goal. So 2022 was a huge spike up, and 2023 we plummeted. And when 2024 rolled around, I thought we were about to hit a recession. Maybe even a depression. I was Jim Kramer in the early 2000s screaming at the camera like an asshole, SELL SELL SELL. I thought we had nothing but question marks in the starting rotation, a top heavy lineup with more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese, and a bullpen that, well, lets be honest, was going to perform like every other bullpen in Mets history. And as a now 40 year old man who had just been battered by years and years and decades and decades of failure, I thought the 2024 Mets were about to find their place in history next the 93 Mets or the 2003 team. As a fan too young to experience 69 or 86, and old enough to remember firecrackers, bleach, collapses, and LOLMets, I really didnt think I could endure the 2024 season. I was prepared to enter a new stage of my life and become an older, more casual, more reasonable fan who watches from a distance and doesnt let his emotions get dictated by a sports franchise. In short, I was ready to give up. To bail. To stop believing.
And then, something magical happened. The "Ya Gotta Believe" mantra came to life. When things seemed to be at their darkest, all the sudden we shined brightest. Like a Phoenix, rising from Arizona! We took the next step. Out of nowhere. As unexpected a season as any fan base has ever enjoyed. It took memes and magic and an MVP, with a helping hand from Grimace, a Latin pop record, a World War II veteran, a guy dressed like a pimp, and a a local union guy getting bombarded with over 100 hot dogs. Put all that together, and Hawk Tuah, rub some spit and dirt on it, and the 2024 Mets turned into an actual magic carpet ride. A theatrical roller coaster filled with more ups and downs than a Disney movie about baseball. A mystical, magical, downright Amazin adventure that I'd venture to guess only you and David Stearns could have predicted.
We finished that journey with a two week stretch that featured instant classic playoff wins over division rivals in Atlanta and Philadelphia, and a dogfight NLCS with the juggernaut Dodgers (side note, Steve - could you imagine if you signed a free agent for $700M and deferred SIX HUNDRED AND EIGHTY OF IT??? The bitch ass owners all around the league like Reinsdorf and Moreno would have stormed the commissioner's office with pitchforks and torches and a new rule limiting owners donning your name would have been invented. Again). We witnessed career defining moments from our past, present, and future superstars with Pete, Lindor and Vientos, and despite not reaching our ultimate goal, it was widely declared the best, most enjoyable season Mets fans had ever experienced. And more importantly, we did it again - we TOOK THE NEXT STEP.
On the journey to the top, you have to just keep taking. the next. step. Winning in baseball is very similar to the way fellow Mets fan Jerry Seinfeld describes breaking up with someone. You dont do it in one push
You rock it back and forth. You go 2 steps forward and 1 step back. Make the playoffs..fail. Next season…Miss the playoffs. Return to the postseason…advance further than last time…still fall short. Tinker, add, subtract, grow. Focus on advancing further again. Buy the dips. Diamond hands. HOLD. Withstand the short term ups and downs in order to experience long term success. All of it. As long as you just keep taking the next step.
Mr. Cohen - the next step is here. This time, the next step comes in the form of one player. Juan Soto. He is here, and hes available. Think about the timing on this one, Mr. Cohen:
7 million years ago, apelike creatures begin to walk upright. The Great MIgration out of Africa occurs around 1 million years ago. 300,000 years ago, homo sapiens evolve, and the Great Leap Forward occurs about 50,000 years ago. Fast forward to the modern era, you're born in 1956, and you're about to become one of the most successful businessmen to ever walk to the planet. In 1992 you create your own firm, SAC Capital. You make billions, and 6 years later, 1998, you put your family in their dream home and purchase a $15 million mansion. And that same year, a little boy in the Dominican Republic was born to Belkis Pacheco and Juan Soto, Sr.: Juan Soto Jr. He was put on this earth to play baseball. You were put on this earth to own a baseball team. And by the grace of God himself, your two lifetimes overlap. In some other cosmic role of the dice, maybe you're a caveman, and not a 21st century businessman. Or Juan Soto is born in 2098 instead of 1998. Theres a thousand timeline variations where you and Juan Soto never coexist. Maybe in some alternate timeline the Wilpons dont get wiped out in a Ponzi Scheme like idiots. Maybe in another universe, Juan Soto isn't Ted Williams reincarnated. Maybe in that dimension he's some 4th outfielder who barely makes it to the bigs.
Theres 14,000,605 possibilities where you, Steven A. Cohen and him, Juan José Soto Pacheco, do not overlap in this game of life
But there is one where you do. There is one world where you own the Mets and are 5 years into a 10 year plan to win the World Series and build a 50 acre casino and entertainment complex in Queens at the exact time that a 26 year old World Champion, Batting Champion and MVP is hitting the market. And not only that, its the exact time you have nearly $200 million coming off the books. And in addition to that, this 26 year old once-in-a-lifetime player has all but said he will go to whoever provides the biggest paycheck. And in addition to all those things, this is the one, single, sole, solitary scenario where you not only have the chance to add him to the Mets, but you also have the added bonus of taking him away from the Yankees.
Mr. Cohen, I dont need to explain to you the importance of market timing. Of striking while the iron is hot. Seizing the moment. The stakes could not be higher and the timing could not be better. And so, Mr. Cohen, sometimes a unicorn falls in your lap and you dont need to have the algorithms and the models and the inside info prospectuses to show you an investment opportunity that nobody else knows about. Sometimes you just invest in the blue chip stock and watch profits soar. Sometimes you just get flop a straight flush and you go all in. Sometimes your team is ready to spend during the same free agency period as the best hitter of a generation. And as I always tell you, I dont like to spend other people's money, but when those moments occur, sometimes you just gotta dump anywhere between, oh, I dunno, $660 and $750 million into said investment. Just think about it logically and mathematically:
You purchased Pointing Man for $141 MIllion:
Would you say that Juan Soto - a living, breathing, 6 foot 2, 225 pound man with a career OBP of over .400 with an OPS near 1.000 - is worth 5 Pointing Mans? I'd say thats an easy "yes." I'd said Pointing Man is not even 1/1 billionth the hitter that Juan Soto is. I will admit they are probably a wash when it comes to their defensive prowess but thats neither here nor there.
The point is, if you can drop $141.3 Million on Pointing Man, drop $700M on the Motherfucking Man. Fuck it, drop a billion. 15 years, 1 Billion Dollars. Make him an offer he can't refuse. Make him the happiest player in the history of baseball. Make us the happiest fan base.
5 years ago, I quoted Proximo from Gladiator and told you "win the bid, win your immortality." You did just that. You won the bid for the Mets. Now, half a decade later, on the eve of yet another Gladiator and Juan Soto both hitting the market, I beg of you once again, "win the bid, win your immortality." Pour another layer of cement on to your legendary status. You're Steven A. motherfuckin Cohen. You don't miss shots like this.