What Mets fans talk about when not talking about the actual games.
These are on the MLB Shop.
The New York one isn’t atrocious, although putting a city name on a cap is too much. That said, it’s probably wearable as a civilian.
The other one is atrocious.
I assume the New York one is for road BP. What are we even doing?
Logline:
Deep in the heart of Citi Field, a secret society of die-hard Mets fans operates from their seats in Section 131. Their mission? Absolute loyalty—not just to the team, but to their chosen leader, Francisco Lindor, and his sacred thumbs-down gesture. Under the ruthless guidance of an enigmatic T-shirt mogul (Michelle Yeoh), they fight for control over the fanbase, the stadium, and the very soul of Mets fandom. Their ultimate goal? To turn Flushing Meadows Park into a casino, sabotage the Mets’ uniforms, and rewrite the rules of what it means to be a true fan.
Tone & Style:
A mix of Star Trek: Section 31, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and The Sopranos, this show blends espionage, underground power struggles, and baseball absurdity. Section 131 treats Mets fandom like a secret society, where T-shirts hold more influence than front-office decisions and stadium loyalty is enforced like a mafia code.
Core Characters:
• Madame Y (Michelle Yeoh) – The shadowy leader of Section 131. A ruthless entrepreneur who built an empire on bootleg Mets T-shirts, she manipulates the fanbase with limited-edition drops and secret pre-sales.
• Vinny “Numbers” Falcone – A self-proclaimed analytics genius who treats Mets fandom like a Pentagon war game. He has spreadsheets predicting the ideal moment to start a “Let’s Go Mets” chant, an algorithm that proves Daniel Vogelbach should be fast, and a conspiracy board linking the Wilpons to every Mets misfortune since 1986.
• Big Dom – The enforcer, muscle, and undisputed king of the Citi Field parking lot. His tailgates are legendary—half BBQ, half military strategy session. . Dom speaks almost exclusively in Mets references (“That guy’s loyalty is shakier than Johan Santana’s shoulder”) and believes the key to a World Series is more meat. He once put out a call for a “Code Orange” (aka an emergency beer run) and had 30 fans show up with coolers in under five minutes.
• Lisa “The Scalper” Ortega – The black-market ticket dealer who ensures Section 131 always has prime real estate at road games, even if it means hacking Ticketmaster. She can manipulate Ticketmaster’s queue with the precision of a Wall Street trader, which has brought the unwanted attention of a notorious billionaire.
• Kiefer Blackstone – The propaganda chief, running Section 131’s underground media operation. He floods Twitter, Reddit, and podcasts with disinformation campaigns, rogue highlight edits, and targeted smear campaigns against Mets enemies. He once convinced the internet that Pete Alonso demanded Citi Field be renamed “The Polar Grounds” and got it trending for a week.
Key Objectives:
• Canonize “LFGM” – Section 131 refuses to let MLB sanitize Mets culture. They will make “Let’s F***ing Go Mets” the only acceptable version of the rally cry..
• Loyalty to Francisco Lindor – The thumbs-down is their sacred salute, a symbol of defiance against Mets fans. Anyone caught booing Lindor will face immediate exile.
• The Flushing Meadows Casino Project – The ultimate endgame. They don’t just want a team—they want an empire. And that empire starts with a casino rising from the ashes of Flushing Meadows Park.
• Sabotage the Mets Uniforms – They’ve already succeeded in reintroducing black into the color palette. Now they’re eliminating colors entirely, pushing for a sinister all-blue road jersey and working their way toward the final, terrifying goal: monochrome Mets.
Why It Works:
Section 131 is a hilarious, chaotic, and slightly sinister love letter to Mets fandom, capturing the passion, pettiness, and insanity that defines the blue and orange faithful. With Michelle Yeoh as the calculating mastermind and a cast of unhinged baseball loyalists, this series turns Citi Field into a battlefield where the real fight isn’t just for wins—but for control of the narrative, the merch, the uniforms, and the fate of Flushing.
Watch THIS video. Poor kid. Time to clean this up @mets.
https://x.com/mattskumar1/status/1883254896344105176?s=61
It’s still unclear which jersey this replaces as you’re only allowed 4 plus City Connect….and I stand by what I have been saying about the lettering. Because they didn’t fill in the orange, they will be illegible from more than 5 feet away. An unforced error and really really solvable.
At least they aren’t black. The Mets have done far worse things in their life, but this are kinda unnecessary, especially when the traditional road jerseys are perfect.
Images via @mets
Note the design has left handed and right handed versions so you can see the sponsor tag on TV. Unifoms should be….uniform, no?
And for younger fans, the Mets wore this lettering for one season, the ill-fated 1987. May all the demons from 1987 visit Lindor, who you may remember, booed the fans, an unforgivable sin.
Even Tom Seaver wore one during his almost-comeback.
Exterior: Paddy’s Pub – Day
The gang is huddled around the bar, beers in hand, while Dennis scrolls on his phone with a smug expression.
Dennis: (holding up his phone) Guys, check this out. A bunch of losers in Queens ran a fan thing called the Queens Baseball Convention. Big turnout, fan engagement, sponsors, you name it. Didn’t even have an official tie-in. Seemed people really liked it. and they made money. You know what that means?
Mac: Yeah. That Mets fans are a bunch of nerds who’ll pay money for anything.
Dennis: No, Mac, it means opportunity. These idiots managed to turn their undying devotion to a garbage team into cash. Cash we could be making.
Charlie: (excited) Oh, like a scam! I love scams. What are we doin’? Fake baseball cards?
Dennis: (leaning in) Bigger. Why don’t we reach out to the Mets and pitch ourselves as the perfect people to run their fanfest?
Act 1
Dee: (rolling her eyes) The Mets? Aren’t they, like, broke or something?
Frank: (defensive) Uh, the Mets are a New York institution. Show some respect.
Dennis: Exactly, Frank. The Mets have legacy. They have brand value. And they have a desperate fanbase that’s dying for hope. We’re gonna package that desperation into an event so mind-blowingly vague, they’ll beg us to take their money.
Dee: Oh yeah? And what makes you think we can run a Mets fanfest?
Dennis: (condescending) Dee. Sweet Dee. What’s the one thing we’re all incredible at?
Charlie: (nodding) Drinking.
Dennis: No, Charlie. Scheming. We’re schemers, and no one schemes harder than us. The Mets’ll see that we’re innovators. Visionaries. Leaders.
Mac: (excited) Yeah, and I could be in charge of security. We’ll keep everything tight, make it feel legit.
Charlie: (nodding) Ooh, and I could run concessions. I got all these ideas for, like, themed snacks. Like, uh, “Mr. Met Meatballs,” but they’re just loose meat in a cup.
Dee: (interrupting) What about me? I could design new Mets road uniforms, you know? Something sleek and modern.
Dennis: (immediately shutting her down) No. Shut up, bird.
Mac: Yeah, Dee, we’re talking about baseball, not your weird fashion fantasies.
Dee: (indignant) It’s not a fantasy. The Mets do need a rebrand. They’ve been wearing the same dumb road uniforms forever—
Dennis: (cutting her off) No one cares, Dee! Why would the Mets change their road uniforms? We’re not reinventing the Mets. We’re monetizing their fans.
Charlie: (excited) Yeah, and we’ll have autograph sessions, but like, outside in the cold so they have to buy hot drinks!
Mac: Wait, why outside?
Dennis: (leaning back confidently) Because it creates exclusivity, Mac. Fans will endure anything if they think it’s special. Cold weather? Long lines? That just makes it feel important.
Charlie: Ohhh, yeah, yeah. Like when you make me wait outside the bar so people think it’s crowded.
Dennis: Exactly. And we won’t even tell these suckers which players are signing.
Dee: (sarcastic) Wow. Genius. Make people suffer to feel important.
Dennis: (snapping) Shut up, Dee.
Dennis: (ignoring her) We’ll call it …..“Amazin’ Day.”
Charlie: Sounds lame. What’s so “amazin’” about it?
Dennis: It’s Amazin’ because we say it is.
Mac: (standing) I’m sold. Let’s pitch this thing to the Mets.
Act 2: Paddy’s Pub – A Week Later
The gang is seated around the bar, huddled over a laptop. Dennis is typing furiously as the others throw out ideas.
Dennis: (reading aloud as he types) “Dear New York Mets, as lifelong fans—”
Dee: (interrupting) Wait, we’re not lifelong fans.
Mac: (pointing at her) Shut up, Dee. You don’t understand marketing. As long as we bring in some sponsors, the Mets will go for whatever we’re pitching.
Charlie: Fanatics says they’re in.
Dee: What about Topps?
Dennis (mockingly): What about Topps? Fanatics owns Topps. Will you just shut up.
Mac: We need a beer sponsor.
Dennis: Coors Light even spends money on this dump. They’ll totally go in on this, I’ll call them when we’re done.
Dennis: (resumes reading letter to the Mets) “—we understand your fans better than anyone. We’re not just passionate; we’re experts in creating unforgettable experiences that maximize fan engagement and revenue streams.”
Mac: Wait…we don’t understand their fans at all. We’re Phillies fans.
Dennis: Nobody who works for the Mets understands their fans. They had a god damn Dance team last year. You think anyone up there running things understands their fans or even cares. It’s all about the dollars.
Charlie: Yeah, and we’ll throw in, like, a mascot fight or somethin’. People love mascots punching each other.
Dennis: (nodding) That’s actually not a bad idea. Mascots equal family appeal. Write that down, Charlie.
Charlie: (scribbling on a napkin) Got it.
Dee: Can I pitch my uniform redesign now?
Dennis: (snapping) No, Dee! No one cares about your stupid uniforms. The Mets road uniforms are fine. Why in the name of God would the Mets redesign their road uniforms? Are you an idiot? it’s the one thing the Mets have right, and you wanna design new road jerseys?
Mac: Guys, focus. We’ve got to nail this pitch. The Mets aren’t just gonna hand over their fanfest to a bunch of nobodies that came to baseball from other industries.
Dennis: (smirking) That’s where you’re wrong, Mac. The Mets always bring in people from other industries. The Mets are desperate. And desperation makes people… vulnerable.
Act 3: Mets Office – Day
The gang is sitting across from a tired-looking Mets executive. Dennis is leading the pitch.
Dennis: (confidently) Picture this: Amazin’ Day. An all day immersive fan experience. Sessions tailored to every demographic. Autograph signings, exclusive merch drops, mascot fights, and VIP packages.
Charlie: But mostly things we can monetize. Like, we’ll charge extra for the cold autograph lines.
Mets Executive (confused): Cold autograph lines?
Dennis: (calmly) Exclusivity. People pay more when they think they’re suffering for something special. You guys have some sort of podcast right? We’ll go on that and announce all this, they’ll eat it up.
Mets Executive (still skeptical) I don’t know…
Mac: (leaning in) We’ll also keep security tight. No weirdos sneaking in.
Dennis: (quickly) Ignore him. The point is, this event will be a once-in-a-lifetime experience that Mets fans will talk about for years. All we need is your go-ahead, and we’ll handle the rest.
Act 4: Paddy’s Pub – Planning Phase
The gang is scrambling to organize a “demo” of their fanfest idea to impress the Mets.
Mac: Okay, so we’ll need costumes for the mascot fight. Charlie, you’re Mr. Met. Dee, you’re whatever the Mets’ enemy is.
Dennis: You mean winning?
Dee: (offended) Why do I have to be the enemy?
Dennis: Dee, stop making this about you. Focus on the big picture.
Dee: Oooh, I have an idea. What if we make fan-themed t-shirts, and then we sell the t-shirts to a group of dedicated fans who all sit in one section…..
Dennis: Dee, SHUT UP! We need some ideas that won’t cost a lot, but ideas which we can throw a sponsor on top. Generic stuff—autograph sessions from whoever contractually owes the Mets an appearance, batting cages, behind-the-scenes tours—blah, blah, blah. We can let fans “host their own press conference.”
Mac: (laughs) What does that even mean? Host their own press conference? Like, pretend they’re the manager? “Uh, yeah, we’re just gonna try to get ‘em next game.”
Dennis: Exactly! Pathetic, but budget friendly.
Charlie: oh, oh, how about a “Steal Home Challenge.” Fans run in a straight line to a base. No intrigue. No stakes. The Mets probably have a base lying around we could borrow.
Dennis: Budget friendly. I like it. Add it to the list.
Dee: Ooooo, I got it. A mini-museum. Take a trip down Mets memory lane at the “Meet the Mets Memorabilia”
Dennis: That’s not bad. And budget friendly. Charlie, write that down and get a sponsor for it.
Charlie: I thought the Mets got rid of the museum and turned into a store?
Mac: (excited): Oh, what about….we present a design for a casino.
Dennis: A casino? What are you talking about? What does a casino have to do with fans of a baseball team?
Act 5 Interior: Citi Field – Amazin’ Day
Fans are cold and disappointed in the autograph lines, and are complaining that there isn’t really that much to do but pay for food and run a stolen base line.
Mets Executive: (furious) What the hell is going on here?! Fans are flooding my phone! They’re furious about the autograph sessions, and—God help me—Dee’s “improved” uniforms!
Dennis: (grinning smugly) It’s called innovation.
Mets Executive: Innovation? I just got an email that one of the “meet the players” booths had Frank charging $50 for selfies while pretending to be Keith Hernandez!
Dennis: (calmly) Genius in action.
Mets Executive: You’re banned from Citi Field forever.
Charlie: (shrugging) Eh, we’ve been banned from better places. Add it to the list.
