MLB

Slighted Mets star fails to speak his mind

Terry Collins called yesterday a “brighter day” for the Mets, and around this franchise that probably was accurate.

But only in a less-miserable day is better than a miserable day kind of way.

This is what made the Mets manager see rays of sunshine:

* The Mets activated .159-hitting center fielder Angel Pagan.

* Ike Davis and David Wright are progressing in their rehabilitation, but still do not have even a set date to begin rehabilitative baseball activities, much less get on the, you know, baseball field.

* R.A. Dickey only had a partial tear of the plantar facia in his right foot.

BOX SCORE

The Mets then went out and lost for the fifth time in six games, 6-4 to the Phillies, falling 8½ games out of first place and just one game out of last.

David Einhorn, congratulations on your pending purchase. For $200 million, you will receive the instant right to pay down the Wilpons’ debt and buy into this current, um, brightness.

The main event of another uncomfortable day at Citi Field, though, was not about Pagan’s return or Dickey’s status, or the condition of Wright’s back, Davis’ foot or the Mets’ place in the standings.

It was the 15 minutes and 39 seconds in which Wright responded to questions for the first time since Fred Wilpon told The New Yorker his third baseman was no superstar. Wright was familiarly politically correct in what he said. But what was intriguing went unsaid.

For example, Wright never used Fred Wilpon’s name. He used replacements such as “the Mets” or “the organization.” Even when it was mentioned to Wright that he was not using the name, he gave a somewhat positive answer about the Mets patriarch while continuing not to use Fred’s name.

As if for emphasis, he did use Jeff Wilpon’s name in appreciation because the son of Old Foot in the Mouth actually called shortly after the story broke and spoke to Wright to apologize for the coming controversy storm. As of late yesterday afternoon — the fifth day after the story was published — Fred had left an apology on Wright’s voice mail and Wright had volleyed back a message to Fred.

Thus, in an age of 24-hour communications, Fred and Wright had managed to go at least 100 hours without speaking to each other, when supposedly that was an important issue for both men. It felt like purposeful dodge ball and, again, what was spoken between the lines was Wright’s belief it was now incumbent upon the owner to make this connection.

But what was most telling among the unspoken elements was the small smile Wright had throughout pretty much the entire group interview with the media. In all of his years serving as the unofficial Mets spokesman — through one heinous organizational faux pas after another — Wright had managed to avoid becoming jaded; to not fall victim to snark or sarcasm.

This was a different Wright yesterday, the smirk symbolic of a private joke, but not a particularly funny one; instead rather a: “I can’t believe I am here answering this stuff” distance. He never got nasty; just not his style. But there was detachment and disillusionment Wright has not portrayed previously; a frost of disappointment. He was broken, at minimum temporarily, of the ability to sell another round of spin with familiar gusto.

He had never thumped his chest and called himself a superstar, but had stick up for a downtrodden organization and bedraggled owners at every low moment. Now here he was standing in front of his locker, fidgety and smirking, saying a lot by words unspoken.

Yes, indeed, another bright day at Citi.

joel.sherman@nypost.com