The 2007 NY Mets collapse was bigger, but the 2025 collapse stung more

The New York Mets and painful end-of-season collapses go together like peanut butter and jelly. In a sick, twisted way, Sunday felt normal as a Mets fan. I wrote yesterday that 13-year-old-me would be unhappy with 30-year-old-me, still watching the Marlins ruin my season. As Miami celebrated, a celebration of absolutely absurd proportions, the deja vu was overwhelming.

In 2007, the Mets were coming off the 2006 NLCS heartbreak (thank you, Carlos Beltran). As hard as it was, the fanbase was able to shrug it off. After all, the roster was absolutely loaded. They'd be back. The names on that team read like a mid-2000s All-Star team; Beltran, Wright, Reyes, Delgado, Lo Duca, Pedro, Glavine... they'd be back.. right?

Wrong. They would not. With 17 games remaining, and a cozy seven-game lead over Philadelphia, the Mets fell off a cliff. They blew the lead, lost the division, and missed the playoffs, all while the Marlins danced around despite their own deafening irrelevancy. Sound Familiar?

But what's staggering is that somehow, some way, the 2025 Mets found a way to top that. Was the blown lead quite as severe and as quick? No. But against all odds, they found a way to hurt the fans more than they did 18 years ago.

The Mets lost so much more than a playoff birth on Sunday

I'm not minimizing 2007 Mets fans, I promise. I had tears streaming down my face when that collapse ensued. But with very similar expectations to that team, the 2025 Mets took devastating destruction to new levels. Let's count the ways.

For one, this was a slow, slow... slow, burn. The Mets' free fall 18 years ago happened fast. It was kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid. One week, the Mets were in first place, riding on roller skates to the playoffs to avenge the dreaded Cardinals. Then, just a couple of weeks later, we were all standing around holding our pennant-clinching balloons for a celebration that never happened.

These Mets made us suffer, though. They started this steep decline in early June, and didn't arrive at their ultimate destination under the rubble of National League mediocrity until game 162. That's a three-month grind of slowly watching the club go from 45-24 to out of an extended playoff. The second half of the season was basically one long root canal.

It's also especially cruel that they actually had a shot, with fate in their own hands. If the Reds had defeated the Brewers, something that looked likely early on, it would be a slightly softer pill to swallow. But once it was clear that Cincinnati was handing us a golden ticket that was to be swiftly misplaced, it was too much for a fan to stomach.

While the 2007-era Mets never reached their full potential, they got a few more cracks at it. They were abject failures, but it wasn't as though it was the end of an era. For these Mets, that remains a possibility. Whispers of Pete leaving are taking over Mets land. And Lindor is not getting any younger. It's not out of the realm of possibility that this collapse could lead to the loss of a franchise icon and the closure of what was a promising chapter.

It doesn't help matters that this was supposed to be the season that proved the Mets could take over New York. It hadn't happened since the mid-80s. But after snatching away highly desired Juan Soto from the evil empire over in the Bronx, it was all set up for a return to New York supremacy. Instead, Yankees fans are dancing on Met graves harder than the Marlins danced off the field at LoanDepot Park (or whatever it's called these days).

At least in 2006, it fit the script to some degree. The Yankees were still the Yankees, only a few years removed from championships. The Mets were... the Mets, owned and operated by the Wilpons. With "Uncle Stevie," this wasn't supposed to happen. Once Steve Cohen and all his money came to town, this just wasn't going to happen again.

But it did. And it hurt in a way that 2007 just could not.