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Juan Soto’s rough stretch in Queens hit a new low on Wednesday night in Boston, where the Mets’ $765 million man turned in another troubling performance. Despite a 5-1 victory over the Red Sox, Soto went 0-for-3 with a walk and a sacrifice fly, striking out in his first two plate appearances without taking the bat off his shoulder. Even when he did swing, an 86 mph sweeper from Garrett Crochet left him flailing in the sixth. Manager Carlos Mendoza had hoped a lineup shuffle—dropping Soto to the three-hole—might jolt him awake, but the results suggest otherwise. While New York continues to push toward the postseason, concern is mounting that Soto, whose numbers have dipped well below his Yankee days, has become more liability than leader. With whispers of a “lack of enthusiasm” surfacing and his bat staying quiet, the Mets need their marquee slugger to rediscover his spark—fast.
In the grand theatre of New York baseball, few acts have opened with more anticipation — or more scrutiny — than Juan Soto’s. Just 48 games into a historic $765 million contract, the once-magnetic slugger has been less a tidal wave and more a slow tide, leaving fans in Flushing wondering when the fireworks will arrive. To be clear, Soto hasn’t been a bust — not by any reasonable standard. But in a city that doesn’t do nuance, especially at that price tag, a .246 batting average and a few moments of visible disengagement can make even the most patient fan base start to squirm.
And yes, the optics haven’t helped. Failing to run out a would-be double. An icy dugout demeanor. But peel back the tabloid headlines and look deeper into the data, and you’ll find something more complex — and more fixable. Soto is, in fact, hitting the ball very hard. His expected stats — .310 average, .601 slugging — tell a tale of misfortune rather than failure. But in the city where perception is reality, near-misses don’t soothe restless crowds.
The most pressing concern? Soto’s bat speed. Down two miles per hour from last year, it’s a shift that puts him in the company of other Mets whose bats have mysteriously lost a tick. At 26, this isn’t supposed to happen. Is it a lingering injury? A team-wide approach shift? Whatever the cause, the numbers are unmistakable. Soto’s “fast swing” rate has plummeted, and while he’s still producing elite exit velocity, the question looms: what happens if that bat slows just a touch more?
Then there’s his batted-ball profile — or rather, the direction of it. Soto has long been a line-drive machine, but his “sweet spot” contact is down noticeably. The lift he found with the Yankees, fueled in part by Yankee Stadium’s right-field jetstream, has vanished. He’s back to hitting more ground balls and fewer pulled fly balls — the kind that leave the yard. The Mets don’t have a short porch in right. And without that tailored adjustment, some of Soto’s best contact is ending up as routine outs.
Perhaps most surprisingly, Soto’s patience may be working against him. Always a master of the zone, he’s now taking pitches he used to drive. His in-zone swing rate is slipping, down to just 54% in May. It’s admirable to work a count — until those early strikes start tipping the balance. One fewer swing a night might not seem like much, but in the crucible of New York baseball, that’s a line drive not hit, a rally not sparked, a perception not shifted.
So where does that leave us? With a generational talent still firmly in possession of his tools, yet slightly out of rhythm. Soto is not broken — he’s misaligned. And in a city that remembers how slowly Francisco Lindor and Carlos Beltrán started before becoming stars in their own right, there’s still room for grace. But time is a funny thing in Queens. It’s only been 48 games, but already the countdown has begun.
In the glare of New York’s unforgiving spotlight, Carlos Mendoza offered something Juan Soto badly needed: perspective. “He’s human. He’s 26, man,” the Mets skipper said Tuesday, brushing aside criticism of the superstar’s early-season struggles. Amid whispers of underwhelming hustle and a stat line that—while enviable by most standards—sits below Soto’s usual orbit, Mendoza reminded everyone that transitions take time, even for the $765 million man. It’s a new contract, a new team, a new pressure cooker—and while the numbers may not pop just yet, Mendoza and others in the Mets organization are betting on history to repeat itself. After all, Soto has rebounded from slow starts before. And in a city that demands greatness nightly, Mendoza’s calm reassurance may be just the anchor Soto needs before the inevitable hot streak washes over Citi Field.
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