I had a year in the Rockville Centre Soccer Club where I was on a team that tied every game. We were at 0-0-8 and our propensity to draw had become an accepted absurdity. If one team led in the final minute, we knew the equalizer was pre-fated. Then, in Game Nine, we went up against the powder blue team. My classmate Gary lined up across from me and said, "You guys are going to win." "We don't ever win." "Trust me," Gary said, "today you're going to win." The ref started counting players and announced that Gary's team was two players short. "My cousin James is here," I said, "He can play with you." James was two years younger, not old enough to play at this level on any roster. He wasn't a bad athlete. He was a strong and smart defender, but soccer wasn't his game. And he'd be a ten-year-old playing with 12-year-olds or something. But that's where it gets funny. James suited up, and even as we quickly went up 3-0 on Gary's (indeed terrible) team, it became clear that James suddenly had the best skills on the squad. He had never dominated at any level before, but they quickly bumped him up from fullback to striker. He started getting the hint that it was less-than-useful for him to pass, so he started taking on all comers, 1-on-3 or something, having the time of his life getting a couple of shots on goal off. The Powder Blues played along, quickly switching to a strategy of Get-the-Ball-to-James-and-Get-out-of-His Way. He was an utterly mediocre player playing in a division over his head, and they were acting like they just acquired Pelé. So was he. Ultimately he scored the only tally as we ended our tie purgatory with a 9-1 win. I feel like this is more or less the mentality going on with Mets when they fill out the lineup card. "Let's bat McKinney third." "Is he good?" "He's new." "But is he good?" "Listen, he's new. Do you want me to run through the other options we've seen to date?" "No need. Looks like we've got a number-three hitter."