The air around Citi Field feels heavier these days, thick with the weight of unmet expectations and restless hope. Juan Soto, once baseball’s crown jewel of consistency, now wears the look of a man searching for his spark. He’s still drawing walks, still fouling off impossible pitches, but the cannon-shot home runs and effortless dominance fans anticipated? They’ve been few and far between. In a city that demands instant results, patience feels like a luxury no one can afford — except maybe one man.

High above the dugout, Mets owner Steve Cohen watches it all unfold. While others wring their hands and dissect Soto’s every swing, Cohen leans into a different kind of faith. This one is built not on immediate gratification, but on the bigger picture. For a franchise desperate to turn talent into trophies, Cohen’s message to the fanbase, and to Soto himself, cuts through the noise.

“If you asked him, he’d probably say it’s not going the way he hoped — it’s not what the back of his baseball card would say,” Cohen said recently on The Show podcast. “But the way he works the count makes pitchers throw extra pitches — that really matters.” In Cohen’s eyes, Soto’s struggles aren’t failures; they’re part of the invisible work that wins baseball games in the long run.

He sees what the box scores miss — the subtle, grinding work Soto puts in every at-bat. “The way he works the count makes pitchers throw extra pitches — that really matters,” Cohen emphasized. “Then he gets on base, and Pete [Alonso] can drive him in. Pete’s seeing better pitches because of him.”

In other words, the ripple effects of Soto’s presence don’t always light up the highlight reels, but they shape the game in critical ways. It’s not just about towering home runs; it’s about warping a pitcher’s focus, forcing mistakes, bending innings in the Mets’ favor.

Cohen, ever the pragmatic optimist, isn’t measuring Soto by a cold April or a rocky May. “It’s very subtle how that works, and you just can’t look at it in a very narrow sense,” he explained. Then, with finality: “I’m not worried about Juan. He’s singularly focused on baseball. He’s a pure hitter.”

Soto hears the outside noise. He feels the weight of the record-setting contract, the relentless expectations that come with a name stitched onto a thousand jerseys. But inside the Mets’ walls, he has something even louder — an owner who believes not just in his bat, but in his entire presence.

“Let’s have this discussion at the end of the year,” Cohen said, a knowing smile behind the words.

And with that, the message was clear: Soto’s story isn’t finished—not even close.

Juan Soto’s invisible impact on the team

It’s easy to stare at the scoreboard and wonder what’s wrong. Soto was supposed to be the game-changer, the engine that powered the Mets into October. And yet, the home run totals aren’t eye-popping, and the highlight reels aren’t overflowing. But if you stop squinting at the big numbers and start watching the little moments, you’ll see it, the real value Soto brings.

Every time he forces a pitcher into a seven-pitch battle, every time he drags out an at-bat that tires out an ace early, he’s planting seeds that blossom later. He’s getting on base, drawing walks, swiping bags when pitchers aren’t looking, and forcing opposing managers to burn through bullpens faster than they want. Those little chess moves don’t flash on the scoreboard, but they win games in the margins.

Look a little closer and you’ll spot how his presence changes everything around him. When Soto’s lurking on first, pitchers lose focus. When he’s fouling off breaking balls in the dirt, Alonso, Lindor, and McNeil are waiting in the wings to feast on mistakes. Even in a slump, Soto’s reputation bends the shape of the game. Pitchers nibble at the corners, throw fewer strikes, and Mets hitters down the line see better looks because of it. That ripple effect, frustrating pitchers, stretching innings, extending games, doesn’t show up in home run counts. But it’s part of why Steve Cohen isn’t losing sleep.

In a season full of chaos, Soto’s doing the gritty, invisible work that contenders desperately need.