Mr. Met, then, can be seen as the one blameless figure in Flushing. Mr. Met doesn’t give up five runs in four innings. He doesn’t lose fly balls in the sun. He hasn’t lost his home run stroke. He didn’t throw in his finances with Bernard L. Madoff. He didn’t design Citi Field.

He is, in his way, harmlessly pure. And, as a result, perhaps more popular than ever.

“As a performer, as I was, you’re a reflection of your fan base,” said Dave Raymond, the first Phillie Phanatic, who now develops mascots for professional and college teams. “Fans love Mr. Met because he’s very protective of them. Even when he’s used to poke fun at the Mets, you smile.”

So, perhaps not surprisingly, Mr. Met has been asked to pitch in to address the club’s issues off the field. The owners, who have spent the last five months seeking 10 or so minority investors to raise desperately needed cash, put together a list of perks that would be available to those willing to pony up $20 million. Access to Mr. Met at Citi Field was one of them.

Mr. Met, then, might be more than a symbol. Maybe he will be the club’s savior.

“Just the fact that something like that could be included in the perks suggests significant value is there that goes beyond money and speaks to what he represents,” said Howie Rose, one of the Mets’ radio voices.

But a former Mr. Met counseled some reason as he assessed the mascot’s importance to investors.

“Heavy as his head is, I don’t think it’ll tip the scales,” said A. J. Mass, who danced, hugged the kiddies and sweated through his costume (a spherical ecosystem that he says is 40 degrees hotter than outside) from 1994 to ’97.