There was more than enough in this sequence to make Mets fans think they had used up all their fairy dust and that the roof was about to collapse. But they just kept going, first with a sac fly by Mark Vientos to take the lead and then with one of the most aesthetically pleasing home runs in recent memory.

And then, I mean, yeah, the roof did Collapse! This is the New York Mets! Finishing 6-3 is for teams that have no understanding of entertainment. The bottom of the eighth inning was pure hell for anyone clinging to the Mets’ wagon, the kind of sports-watching experience that ironically makes people question whether it’s even worth it anymore. Watching the Braves come back and take a 7-6 lead was like the villain in a horror movie actually learning how to use a gun. It seemed to be over, and in a way that made dramatic sense. It’s the Mets, it’s the Braves, it always goes in a certain direction.

But remember that guy from earlier who’s on the shortlist of the best players in the world? He wouldn’t let the ghosts that haunt this franchise have their way. He refused to accept that the Mets could simply win Game 2 against a Braves lineup that would certainly have given their key players a rest. Francisco Lindor said screw it and hit a 413-foot home run that is now undoubtedly the defining image of his tenure in Queens.

If the planet feels a little wobbly now, if everything is a little off its axis for a few hours, that’s why. There has been a shift in the universe. At least for one day, there is no longer any certainty that the Mets will be bad in every game that really matters. In a sport like baseball, where one night turns into two, then three, and then a full week or two of solid play, there’s no telling where this roller coaster ride will end. Just know that the engine that drives it, the oft-beaten, never quite beaten New York Mets, no longer cares about what happened in the past.