Albanese: Mets, Jorge Lopez situation was mishandled all around

What Jorge Lopez did on Wednesday night was unprofessional. Of that, there is no question.

After not getting the strike call he wanted on an obvious check swing, Lopez — the reliever who’s pitched the second-most innings out of anyone in the Mets bullpen — stalked toward the dugout after being ejected and threw his glove into the stands. Postgame, eyes rimmed in red, he was unrepentant: “I don’t regret it,” he told reporters.

Shortly after, news broke that the Mets intended to designate Lopez for assignment. The display was “unacceptable,” manager Carlos Mendoza said.

And fine — it was a bad look and Lopez had to pay the price.

But what the Mets did was unacceptable, too, and it feels wholly unfair that Lopez — who’s publicly struggled with mental health — is the only one being taken to task.

Simply put, they should have protected their player better. Punish him, sure, but don’t let him dig the hole deeper.

It wasn’t just that Lopez felt justified in throwing his glove — which, you’ll have to excuse me, but in a sport where pitchers routinely pummel dugout water coolers like they’re auditioning for the Sopranos, lobbing a glove seems almost tame. It was that his postgame comments exacerbated the situation.

Except, we can’t be completely sure what those postgame comments were.

Lopez, whose first language is Spanish but who opts not to use an interpreter, said he’s “been looking [like] the worst teammate in probably the whole [expletive] MLB.”

Because of his accent, though, “teammate” sounded a whole lot like “team,” and that quote was quickly disseminated over X. (A second, third and fourth listen makes it clear that Lopez said teammate, and the pitcher confirmed that Thursday.)

Later, SNY’s Steve Gelbs asked him to clarify: Did he say that he was “on the worst team?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a breath. “Probably. It look [sic] like.”

Lopez’s response, his expression and his cadence called into doubt whether the pitcher fully knew what he was answering. He said as much in another Instagram post Thursday: First, he apologized, and then said he was frustrated with his personal performance.

“My efforts to address the media in English created some confusion and generated headlines that do not reflect what I was trying to say,” he wrote.

Whether this was simply an attempt at damage control or not, that this was even a factor is a big problem.

Though he doesn’t use an interpreter, one was close by, as were other members of media relations, but no one double-checked whether Lopez really, genuinely intended to take a few moments postgame to potentially torpedo his career in a language he did not grow up speaking. (Lopez’s agent said he was offered an interpreter but declined; he hadn’t used one before and didn’t want to change course in a time of crisis.)

I spoke to Spanish interpreter Alan Suriel and his superior, chief communications officer Nancy Elder, Thursday to ask why no one stepped in, and they said that they cannot force a player to use a translator. And indeed, there was no instance of Lopez looking toward Suriel for any sort of clarification Wednesday. I also asked both if they believed Lopez understood Gelbs’ follow-up question, and neither could answer definitively.

Look, it wouldn’t be right to strip Lopez of ownership: He chose his words and he chose his method of communication, and the PR staff can’t do anything about that. But a little support could have helped, and that can manifest in a few ways — having someone in charge interject to make sure he knows exactly what he’s responding to, or even taking him aside after the fact to be absolutely certain he said what he meant. If it was, great. If it’s not, then release a statement to clarify.

Members of the media love a good quote, but we (should) love accuracy far more. Having a quick check in place isn’t a form of censorship — it’s the opposite. It makes sure his voice is heard accurately. And frankly, there have been times when players with full grasp of the English language have been afforded that courtesy.

This isn’t only good for Lopez, but it creates a greater sense of trust in the organization, its coaching staff and its leadership.

Mendoza declined to say whether they DFA’d Lopez before or after his comments, but on Wednesday, Lopez was still openly wondering whether he’d be on the team the next day. The most likely timeline is that Mendoza had his news conference, Lopez spoke to his manager, spoke to the media, and then got sent packing.

If he’d already really been fired — and essentially, that’s what this is — why put yourself through talking to the media at all?

So, if he was still part of this team, you have to ask: Could the Mets have done more to protect him? This is a pitcher who went on the 15-day injured list last year due to mental health issues, who was seen teary-eyed at his locker, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do to make absolutely sure he was properly prepared for the oncoming onslaught? Or at least make sure he meant what he said?

Mendoza was asked if he thought something was lost in translation during that fateful postgame interview, and he said he didn’t know. Pete Alonso, displaying more nuance and empathy than the officials tasked with protecting Lopez from himself, noted that maybe the current narrative was wrong.

“He reacted how he reacted and it’s unfortunate,” Alonso said. “The one thing I kind of feel bad for is that one thing that he said kind of got misconstrued . . . He’s gotten a lot of scrutiny for what people thought he said.”

All of which could have been avoided. It was an oversight. It was unfortunate.

Ultimately, it was unprofessional.