For a man who made billions spotting market bubbles, Steve Cohen sure didn’t see this one bursting. The New York Mets owner promised accountability, stars, and October baseball—but what fans got instead was strikeouts, bullpen blowups, and a crash course in disappointment. As Citi Field turns into a boo-box, the same fans once sold on “vision” are now accusing Cohen of peddling little more than premium-priced false hope.

The New York Mets have not had a good time for the past few games, and the series against the Pittsburgh Pirates was an annihilation. The Pirates swept the Mets under the rug, and it didn’t look good for the Franchise because, from the pitching to the batting, nothing went well.

After the series sweep. Mets owner Steve Cohen took to X and talked about what happened in the past 3 games. Cohen said, “Tough stretch, no sugarcoating it. I didn’t see this coming…. It is unlikely the team’s hitting with RISP will continue at this weak pace. Keep the faith!”

The New York Mets entered Pittsburgh hoping to reset, but instead walked into a three-day nightmare. They were swept 3–0 by the last-place Pirates, outscored by a humiliating 30–4 margin. The final game, a 12–1 embarrassment, saw them make history for all the wrong reasons. No team since 1901 had allowed 30 runs, scored four, and struck out 25 times.

From the very first inning of Game 3, the disaster unfolded like a slow-motion car crash. Frankie Montas allowed five runs with two outs in the first and never recovered. The bullpen was equally disastrous, giving up six more runs combined over the next five innings. Every arm the Mets touched the mound with got scorched, including Travis Jankowski’s bizarre pitching cameo.

The big bats—Francisco Lindor, Brandon Nimmo, Juan Soto, and Pete Alonso—went a combined 2-for-15 in the finale. Across the three games, the Mets managed just four runs while surrendering double digits twice. Not even Juan Soto’s .322 average and 1.196 OPS in June could drag the lifeless offense back. The defense wasn’t much better, with sloppy fielding and late reactions piling up costly damage.

Manager Carlos Mendoza admitted, “It’s frustrating… We’re better than that, and they know it.” He took full responsibility, saying, “It starts with me,” while urging belief in the roster. Francisco Lindor didn’t deflect either, claiming, “The coaches prepared us—this one’s on us.” But after 13 losses in 16 games, it’s clear the Mets aren’t just slumping—they’re spiraling.

But while Cohen tweets optimism, the fans are tweeting expletives—and not without reason. This isn’t just a slump; it’s a full-blown meltdown wrapped in high payroll and postseason promises. If “keep the faith” is the strategy, Mets fans might prefer a refund on belief. At this point, Citi Field’s best hope isn’t a comeback—it’s a collective amnesia session. Because whatever this is, it sure isn’t what $300 million was supposed to buy.

The Mets fans want Steven Cohen to stop being delusional

At some point, reality has to walk in—even if it’s wearing a billionaire’s tailored suit. Steve Cohen can tweet about patience and process all he wants, but Mets fans are watching another season swirl down the drain. The promises of sustained success have aged like milk, not wine. Now, even the diehards are asking if the hedge fund king is just hedging against admitting this team’s a mess.

“Shut up, you gave us false hope… now you owe us in return,” says it all. Fans showed up, paid up, and watched the Mets unravel like cheap thread in crunch time. The frustration is real, but so is the math: they’re just 1.5 games behind the Phillies. If they snap out of this slump, October baseball is still sitting there, waiting to be grabbed.

“Weeks!? I’m not sure you have that much time,”—a fan’s panic wrapped in brutal honesty. Steve Cohen preaches patience, hoping for Senga and Diaz to return, but time’s running thin. The rotation’s bleeding runs, the bullpen’s gassed, and the standings don’t wait for anyone’s rehab. With every loss, it’s less about who’s coming back and more about who’s falling apart.

“Make trades! We need reinforcements in the pitching department! That bullpen is gassed!” screams the fanbase. Steve Cohen’s banking on Senga and Diaz returning, but hope doesn’t cover late-inning meltdowns. With Ottavino worn down and Smith unraveling, waiting weeks might just bury the Mets deeper. If this front office has any pulse left, the trade phones should already be burning hot.

“Just glad we have an owner who cares. Love you, Steve”—some fans still believe in Cohen. While others rage online, this one remembers Nimmo’s deal, Lindor’s extension, and Díaz’s record contract. Cohen didn’t flinch at payrolls or luxury tax—he flinched at losing, and fans saw that fire. Through chaos and collapses, some still sit back, sip coffee, and trust the billionaire with receipts.

“So is the strategy to sit and wait for things to get better?”—a fan’s patience wearing thin. Cohen mentions McGill and Lucchesi returning, but banking on timelines won’t stop standings from shifting. The New York Mets can’t afford to watch Quintana struggle while playoff spots slip quietly out of reach. If reinforcements don’t arrive soon, they’ll be waiting in August, with nothing left to fight for.

The comments aren’t just noise—they’re a warning siren echoing from the heart of Queens. Fans aren’t asking for miracles; they’re asking for movement, urgency, and accountability beyond hashtags. Steve Cohen once bought trust with cheques—now he’s burning it with silence and stall tactics. If the Mets keep waiting for help instead of making it, October will be just another ghost they can’t afford to chase.