A couple weeks ago, Francisco Lindor sacrificed his body on a remarkable diving catch for which he should have earned a save — the grab essentially saved a game against the majors-best Brewers that the Mets would win in extra innings. Lindor, who plays with emotion but a throttled sort, picking his spots to play it cool or becoming expressive to breathe life into his teammates, jumped to his feet, began pounding his chest and screaming toward a Citi Field crowd that roared as if his catch had just clinched a playoff berth.

Not dissimilar to the way Nolan McLean struck out San Francisco’s Christian Koss to end the top of the sixth Friday, then stomped and thundered his way back to the dugout. Not dissimilar to the way Bo Bichette admired his no-doubt, go-ahead, three-run home run in Sunday’s eighth inning and did not start rounding the bases until it had landed deep in the left field stands, staring into a Mets dugout that had exploded to feed the energy.

All at the end of a miserable and exponentially disappointing season. With the exception of monitoring their young starting pitchers’ workloads, the Mets are still playing to win — often successfully — every day.

Why?