Jon Berti stole three bases on one walk, and each one exposed a different breakdown by the Mets. After drawing a four-pitch walk, Berti immediately took off for second. Catcher Gary Sánchez was so caught up in prepping for the throw that he forgot to catch the pitch. Berti slid in standing, untouched. With one out, he waited a beat, then stole third. He didn’t get a good jump, and the throw beat him, but no one covered the bag. Safe again. By this point, Sánchez was locked in on him, glaring him down after every pitch. But Berti saw an opening. The next return throw from Sánchez to the pitcher was slow and lazy. The pitcher never glanced at third. Berti took off. He stumbled during the sprint but kept going. The pitcher panicked, rushed a throw, and spiked it. Berti slid in safely.
It was a brutal sequence for the Mets. Each steal came with botched communication or execution—missed catches, missing covers, spiked throws. It wasn’t dominance by speed, it was awareness and timing. Berti saw what the Mets weren’t doing, and he took everything they left open. The Marlins got a run out of it. The Mets got a reel of mistakes.