Mets vs. Dodgers: The OMG Mets head into an uncertain offseason as the thrill comes to an end in 2024 – 'It doesn't feel real'

LOS ANGELES — The orange plastic sign that was the symbol of the season remained untouched and upside down on the dugout.

After Sunday's 10-5 loss in Game 6 of the NLCS, the defeated New York Mets retreated one by one to the bowels of Dodger Stadium. The celebration raged on the diamond under a fountain of fireworks. Some Mets stayed to watch and experience the pain of a missed opportunity in full color. Others, like superstar shortstop Francisco Lindor, avoided the scene entirely and quickly holed up in the clubhouse. Behind them all, the team's giant plastic OMG sign hung like a tangerine shadow on a dark night.

Earlier in the season, “OMG” became a slogan for the Mets after second baseman Jose Iglesias released a song of the same name. The song went viral, as did the Mets. The phrase soon found its way onto hats, jerseys and, of course, a giant plastic sign that the team brought into the dugout at every game and took photos with it after every home run.

But in the end, after the final exhale and exhale, it just stayed there. Turned upside down, 90 degrees counterclockwise, ignored amidst the madness and sadness.

Eventually, a Mets clubhouse employee came to pick it up. With a bundle of catching gear under his left arm, he picked up the shield with his right and carried it down the tunnel, perhaps out of sight forever.

Here, in the make-believe city, beneath swaying palm fronds and a cotton candy sky, the 2024 Mets ran out of magic.

In fact, they simply ran out of pitches.

One of the most exciting ballclubs in recent memory, a group that thrived on chaos and improbability and no sleep or good vibes, fell victim to baseball's realpolitik: Outs have to come from somewhere.

These Mets will be remembered as an exciting ride, but the story of their ultimate demise was strikingly simple, almost… boring. Starter Sean Manaea, who emerged as an ace after a midseason mechanical change, allowed five Dodgers to score and recorded just six outs. A beleaguered bullpen, overworked and undermanned, fought admirably but missed runs. New York's offense faltered and threatened a comeback several times, but couldn't land the counterpunch it needed.

And so the Dodgers go to the World Series to face the New York Yankees in a bi-coastal showdown for the ages. The Mets, meanwhile, head home to spend the winter wondering what might have been while appreciating what was.

Because even though it ended in disappointment, this team accomplished something significant.

The Mets, declared dead in late May, won more games than any other team over the remainder of the season. Fueled by a ton of schtick and improved starting pitching, they rocketed up the standings and into the playoffs. Along the way, they discovered a feeling and shared it with their fan base. They conjured moments — Pete Alonso's last-second home run in Wild Card Game 3, Francisco Lindor's grand slam in NLDS Game 4 — that will last a lifetime. Both for those who bore witness and for those who performed the incantation.

“Those moments,” Alonso, who is set to become a free agent this winter, told Yahoo Sports after Game 6. “Not just individually, but collectively, that’s the shit you live for. That’s the shit you play for.”

Some of that collective will reunite in Queens next year and beyond, but the essence of the 2024 Mets cannot be repeated.

Sure, some gimmicks will survive the winter, but many will wither in the frost. Grimace can't live forever. Pumpkins rot over time. It's harder to flash an OMG sign when Iglesias is playing somewhere else.

Year-to-year fluctuations are inevitable for any team, but the Mets could look completely different in February. This is not a particularly young squad. Sixty percent of the pitching rotation — Manaea, Jose Quintana and Luis Severino — will hit the open market, as will Alonso, Iglesias, Harrison Bader, JD Martinez, Jesse Winker and Ryne Stanek. More than $175 million in payroll is expected to disappear from the books. A large part of it went to players who were not in the squad this season.

David Stearns, president of baseball operations, has an intriguing winter ahead. Maybe Alonso returns, maybe team owner Steve Cohen opens his checkbook to Juan Soto, maybe Stearns decides to rethink his approach from last offseason and focus on depth over impact. Whatever the case, despite the grim changes ahead, this franchise is in healthy shape. Lindor is a cornerstone superstar. Mark Vientos' breakout feels real. The farm system is solid. And it's all led by a dedicated leadership group that (1) cares deeply and (2) seems to know what they're doing, which hasn't always been the case for Mets fans.

But no matter how the winter goes, it's almost certain that the Mets will enter spring training with several new faces and, eventually, new gadgets.

That reality — that what was will not remain the same, that the roller coaster ride is over — seemed to hit some Mets particularly hard after their Game 6 loss.

When reporters entered the clubhouse, catcher Francisco Alvarez was lying on the floor with his back against the wall and tears in his eyes. Outfielder Brandon Nimmo comforted him with encouraging words. Lindor sat on the floor next to Iglesias' locker, still in his baseball pants, staring blankly into space. Vientos conducted his media conference in an uncharacteristically gentle tone. The usual end-of-season chatter echoed around the room in a symphony of high-fives and hugs.

After a while, a group of Mets pitchers gathered in a corner. Some had beer ready. Others drank 40-proof drinks in double-stacked soda cups. Chatter filled the circle, praising the beauty of the ride amid the rubble. In a brief pause of silence, a pitcher leaned back and wondered aloud, “Man, how long has it been spring training?”

That was the miracle of this Mets season. This team lived many lives, from the discarded train wreck to the beloved Cinderella. When it finally ended, all the memories came flooding back in an instant, bringing with them misty eyes and long silences. Many of the Mets will spend their evening drowning their sorrows together as a long goodbye. They will tell stories to relive the magic.

And on Monday everyone will go their separate ways.

When asked what he remembers most from the tumultuous Mets season, Stanek told Yahoo Sports, “I don't even remember half of the shit that happened.” Because so much shit happened to us, that it can't even be calculated.

“It doesn’t feel real.”