The Day After

Took the day off from work, largely so I could lie around the house being tired but happy. The Mets’ starting lineup did too — Emily and Joshua and I came back from dinner to find it was 2-0 Marlins, with Michael Tucker at the plate and nobody out. Tucker got a hit, Chris Woodward stepped up, Ricky Ledee was on deck and I realized that I had no earthly idea where we were in the batting order.

Woody doubled, putting runners on second and third as I got Joshua ready for his bath and watched with much vaguer than usual attention. Somewhere around helping Joshua remove a stubborn t-shirt (remember when you were little and they’d get stuck on your head?) I noticed Ledee pop out, Mike DiFelice come to the plate, and Tom Glavine busy himself in the on-deck circle. Ah, now at least I had my bearings — though I was interested to see the top of the lineup. Would a single regular be playing? I hoped not. Let them have a relaxing night in the dugout. We’re the NL East Champs. Home field isn’t in question. Nobody except Tom Glavine cares about winning this game.

Then Scott Olsen coaxed a third strike past DiFelice.

“GODDAMNIT DIFELICE!” I bellowed.

Oh well. Kind of hard to break habits formed over 149 games.

And there’s a lesson there. When your first eight are Hernandez, Chavez, Milledge, Franco, Tucker, Woodward, Ledee and DiFelice, and you still find yourself yelling at eighth-place hitters for not making contact, baseball’s got you by the throat, and it’s too late to do anything about it, not that you’d want to do anything so silly.

Tonight’s game was proof of something we all know but sometimes don’t like to admit: We root for laundry. But you know what? On nights like this, that seems perfectly sensible: A nice at-bat that ends with a solid single on a 3-2 pitch is a nice at-bat whether the man with the stick is Carlos Beltran or Lastings Milledge. And a bases-loaded single that brings home a go-ahead run is a thing of beauty whether it’s just another line in Carlos Delgado’s notebook, or a exclamation point on the far-briefer resume of Michael Tucker. Baseball played right is a pleasure to watch and cheer for, whether it’s the best lineup in the National League doing the honors, or Willie’s irregulars.

No mounted police on the field, no plastic over the lockers, no warnings not to enter the field. Just a simple, quiet, well-earned victory. And that can be a mighty satisfying thing too.

Addendum because I was curious: We’re now 3-1 in meaningless JV affairs the day after clinching division titles.

* On Sept. 26, 1969, the Mets beat the Phillies, 5-0. Clendenon hit a homer. Koosman won his 17th.

* 1973 doesn’t count — our win in the first game of an Oct. 1 doubleheader with the Cubs meant there was no Game 2. If you want to get technical about it, we lost the first game of 1974. Tug got the L; Mac Scarce got the win for the Phils. Little did anyone know those two would soon be more deeply connected.

* On Sept. 18, 1986, we beat the Cubs, 5-0. HoJo had a three-run homer, pacing a lineup that featured Stanley Jefferson, John Gibbons and Dave Magadan. Rick Anderson pitched very nicely for the win; some kid named Maddux took the L.

* On Sept. 23, 1988, Doc took a 1-0 lead into the ninth against the Cardinals. But then Vince Coleman walked, stole second and came around on an Ozzie Smith single. Pedro Guerrero then brought home Ozzie with a sac fly, sticking Doc with his eighth loss of the season.