Detecting Notes of . . . Citi Field?
On a moonless Friday night at Citi Field, Ryan Goydos, one half of the popular social-media account known as SuperVinoBros, stood at a security entrance reserved for staff, press, mascots, players, and eminences, waiting for his fraternal twin brother, Chris, the other half of the bros, to arrive.
Like the Mets, wine is in a rut. Globally, people drank about a billion fewer gallons of it last year than they did in 2007. The industry has not adapted to the social-media era. The SuperVinoBros, who post fun, peppy videos about their drinking adventures, are determined to change that.
The brothers have close to four hundred and fifty thousand followers across Instagram and TikTok, hailing largely from a young demographic that’s often wary of wine and its stuffy traditions. The renowned sommelier Aldo Sohm is a fan. Wine Enthusiast, a magazine of the Old Guard, named the bros “Rising Stars” for 2026. Clips of their exploits have been watched tens of millions of times.
At Citi Field, Ryan had already spent two hours filming content. Inside the stadium’s Cadillac Club, he had tried a lobster roll with a Sauvignon Blanc that made him scrunch his nose (off camera). Chris, a surgical resident at a New Jersey hospital who joins his brother on his days off, had been held up performing a right hemicolectomy on a gunshot victim. He had been working since 6 A.M.
“Sorry I was late,” Chris said, when he arrived.
“Bro,” his bro replied. “You were saving lives.”
On the concourse, a young man in a black Francisco Lindor jersey dapped the brothers. Their most popular videos are their blind tastings. In traditional blinds, dour sommeliers in waistcoats sniff out the differences between cuvées grown a few miles apart in Burgundy’s Côte d’Or. The brothers usually blind in Chris’s living room, in New Jersey, often while wearing hoodies.
The bros settled into their seats at the bottom of the seventh. They filmed their first blind in 2024. “We always talked about whether it would be easy or not,” Chris said.
It was not easy. That first time, Ryan broke the cork, and Chris guessed way off.
“I was, like, ‘Oh, we shouldn’t post this,’ ” Ryan recalled, sipping an Allagash White. “And Chris was, like, ‘Dude, no. We should absolutely post it.’ ”
The video did well. “It started a very fruitful losing streak,” Chris, who was also drinking beer, said.
The brothers have since filmed around seventy-five blinds. Naturally, they keep score. Ryan has nailed it three times. Chris has clocked either the region or the variety (“half points”) eight times.
The game ended—Mets 2, Marlins 5. The bros headed to the parking lot. They had hoped to shoot a blind in the clubhouse, or in a box. Absolutely not, they had been told. Instead, they set up in the red glow of the tail-lights of a Lexus hybrid owned by Chris’s wife, Akanksha. “We’re at Citi Field right now, blind tasting,” Ryan said into his phone.
He popped the bottle, which was tucked into a lime-green athletic sock, and poured red wine into two plastic cups.
“Oh, shit—it’s the cops,” Chris said. A squad car pulled up, then rolled on. The brothers’ faces caught a blue flicker.
Scientists believe that the hundreds of olfactory receptors in a human nose can discern more than a trillion distinct scents. “It’s got this blueberry, raspberry, light-berry vibe to it,” Chris said, sniffing thoughtfully.
Out of frame, Ryan’s girlfriend, Carolina Mahedy, a former sommelier at Le Bernardin, nosed a glass. “Blinding is like walking down a hallway where all the doors are open,” she had said earlier.
To a novice taster, sipping out of a plastic Mets carafe, the wine smelled like dry grass and very ripe blackberries. Syrah, perhaps?
Mahedy closed her eyes. “This is Cabernet Franc,” she whispered.
Chris sucked air through his teeth. “If it was gonna be a French red, I’d call it a Cab Franc from the Loire Valley.” A 7 train rattled by. He sipped again. “It could be, like, a California Pinot.” He shone his phone’s light through the cup to check for the brown tinge of a Nebbiolo. “Nah, that’s pretty red,” he said. “So I will call this a Pinot Noir from California.”
Ryan handed his brother the bottle. “So, this is—”
Chris yanked off the sock and blinked at the label.
“—a Cab Franc from the Loire Valley!”
Mahedy nodded.
“Fuck! Fuuuck!” Chris looked at his brother. If he had stuck with his original guess, he’d have hit his first homer.
“You were really close!” Ryan said. He cackled.
“Call it the yips,” Chris said.
As the lot emptied, the brothers stuck around to savor the wine. Ryan had just returned from a trip to Bordeaux with Jimmy Butler, the Golden State Warriors’ wine-obsessed forward (record: half a point on one blind). They had put up shots on a hoop at Cos d’Estournel. But blinding out of plastic in Queens, Ryan thought, was just as special.
“Wine is the ultimate social medium,” Chris observed. Everyone nodded.
It was nearing midnight. Chris had to be back at the hospital in six hours. The bottle was almost finished. The bros were drinking to the lees. ♦