On the Queens side of town, the reno began in earnest almost as soon as Francisco Lindor grounded into the 4-6-3 double play. That ended a 4-0 loss before a rare sizable crowd at Miami’s loanDepot Park last Sept. 27, all of them there to witness the final death rattles of an epic baseball calamity.
Almost immediately, the workers arrived armed with sledgehammers and jackhammers and crowbars, and all but covered the streets of Flushing and Corona with tarps. The roster was blown up and torn down and left in tatters and rubble in the Citi Field parking lot. The 2026 Mets were going to bear little resemblance to the 2025 Mets. And do.
On the Bronx side, all the proprietors did was order an extra case of Windex for the windows, a couple of gallons of touch-up paint for the walls. The gutters were cleaned out. The lawns were freshly mowed, a couple of annoying weeds plucked out of the ground. There was a TV in the den that had grown outdated; that was replaced. They changed the water filter in the fridge.
Every now and again there’d be a knock on the door: “Can we interest you in a new roof?” There would be the occasional sales call: “Do you have any interest in trading in your car?” Some thought was given to building a new deck, or adding a slide to the swimming pool.