That Argenis Reyes can play a little, huh? When your team is going as well as our team is going now, you really come to appreciate all the swell storylines that go into weaving the greater narrative. The lead headline is METS EXTEND FIRST PLACE LEAD. The sweet sidebar from Friday night — among others — is the second baseman, enjoying his first month in the Majors after more than five years in the minors, hit the first home run of his big league career. In half a season as a Zephyr he hit none. What a heartwarming sight it was, A. Reyes taking B. Thompson deep, the Mets' dugout quickly huddling and perfecting its no big deal straight face for three beats before embracing the kid en masse.

“We had to break him in,” Carlos Delgado grinned afterwards. When your team wins, your team grins.

Yes, save for the nagging inability of Duaner Sanchez to retire a single opposing batter this week, all is peaches and cream to the blue and orange. What keen chemistry! What an amazin' mesh!

What's that Gary Cohen said? That Luis Castillo has been cleared for baseball activities? That he's going to start playing rehab games in St. Lucie? That he could be back with the Mets next weekend?

Oh.

Hmmm…

Y'know, it's not Luis Castillo's fault the Mets felt compelled to enrich him beyond his and our wildest dreams over the winter. He has taken, as far as we know, no oath of self-deprivation, so of course he was going to accept the absurd amount of money ($25 million) and the insane number of years (four) with which the Mets plied him in the offseason. So what if the only party in any of this to find the transaction objectionable was us, the fans? Like you or I wouldn't have accepted $25 million over four years to display limited range and zero power. It's not like his diminishing skill sets were a secret. Luis seems like a nice enough guy. You're never supposed to wish injury on anyone not named Yadier Molina, so on a strictly human level, it's welcome news to know that whatever it was that placed Castillo on the DL a few weeks ago — a hip flexor — is getting better.

But, um, does he really have to come back?

The semi-dark side of loving the currently configured Mets is wanting nothing to do with those who played a role, however benign, in torpedoing the ship before things got good. Don't bother me with your logic that almost all of those responsible for raising us from the depths and keeping us afloat of late were part of that crew, too. I've completely forgotten that I used to find Mike Pelfrey and Carlos Delgado part of the problem before they emerged front and center to comprise the solution.

But Castillo? He's kind of a reminder of not-so-better times. That whole taxi squad of mending Mets who are still technically Mets because of contractual obligations looms and hovers uncomfortably in the subconscious.

The Mets have climbed into first on the backs of contributors like second basemen Damion Easley and Argenis Reyes. Neither is as accomplished in the context of an entire career as Luis Castillo, but both are here now and getting it done. Castillo was here when the Mets collapsed and when the Mets muddled. It's hard to reconcile his abilities (pretty fair hit-and-run type, turns a nifty double play) with the better days that have coincided with his absence.

Ryan Church…sure I want him back. I'm thrilled to hear from Kevin Burkhardt that Church's eyes offer a window, not a wall now, that he doesn't seem dazed and confused post-concussion. As potential Recidivist Met Xavier Nady has been definitively cast into the flaming abyss of unlikability, Ryan's return to right becomes that much more critical, the sooner the better. Still, all of Church's yeoman Met work is from that dark period when the team wallowed in misery. It's illogical, but I see him and I see the Mets of April and May and June and my instinct is to look away.

When it was reported Angel Pagan was done for the year, I was less unhappy than I should have been for a fellow human being to say nothing of a Met. Pagan contributed mightily those first few weeks. But those first few weeks were painful in ways that had nothing to do with Angel Pagan.

When word trickled forth that El Duque was finally getting it together (until he wasn't), I sighed more than exulted. El Duque? El Duque had nothing to do with the lackluster 2008 Mets, but I was actually a little sore when it was threatened that he was rumored on the road to recovery. El Duque has had a way of ducking out on us at the worst times. How dare he think he can waltz back into our lives? No danger of that, it turns out. Duque's right foot won't be waltzing into Flushing or onto any mound for the foreseeable future.

Moises Alou…Brady Clark…Matt Wise…Trot Nixon…they were all 2008 Mets when I could barely tolerate the 2008 Mets. They're all getting paid somewhere in this organization to heal. I've lost track of Nixon. The others, I think, are out for the season — like Jose Valentin, who shouldn't be held accountable for any of the mess that went down after he went down in the middle of '07, but where was he and his veteran leadership when we needed him and it most, the addled side of my fan brain asks. I'm a louse for thinking such thoughts, but I think I don't miss any of these fellows, not even Moises.

The taxi squad could pull up to the players' entrance at Shea and drop off one of its healthier ghost passengers at any time, and that particular spirit of 2008 past — some guy I've developed an allergic reaction to considering part of the spirit of 2008 present — could awaken and be a huge help to the Mets directly. Being a fan, I will embrace that tanned, rested and ready Met I've all but forgotten about and kind of written off. One base hit in a key spot, and Luis Castillo can be the new Argenis Reyes in my affections. It wouldn't be the first time I've turned that easily. But right now, with everyone who's here representing so darn near perfectly and everyone who's not, well, not, it's hard to imagine.

Then again, it was hard to imagine mere weeks ago being so enamored of the 2008 Mets at all.

Get well, Luis. We'll see ya when we see ya.

Amid the hand slaps, fist knocks and hip bumps the victorious first place Mets exchanged with one another after the final out of this afternoon's game, there was an embrace. David Wright hugged Carlos Delgado.

David was hugging Carlos for all of us. There isn't a Mets fan I know of who doesn't owe Delgado a hug. Hindsight being what it is, the time for the hug was a couple of months ago when Delgado was dragging and taking the team, we were sure, down with him.

We're not that pure of heart. We are, bottom line, results-oriented. We are often not as smart as we think we are. We saw a washed-up ex-power hitter who couldn't or wouldn't move around first and we were ready to trade him, release him, place him in the blue and orange bin that goes by the curb.

We sure like him now.

Were we wrong to declare our frustration with Carlos Delgado when he was batting in the low .200s, when he was leaving runners on as if abiding by a Do Not Disturb sign, when he was more likely to grunt or hide than take responsibility for his bad days? No more wrong than Carlos Delgado was washed up. We're human like he's human. He had a bad stretch, we reacted. He's having a great stretch, we react differently. If Delgado knew better — that he wasn't done, that he was busting his rear to correct what was awry, that he understands baseball more than all the fans and all the media combined — then let's be glad it's manifested itself in moments like the eighth inning today, the eighth inning when he conquered J.C. Romero, when he went down the left field line with authority, when he drove in the two runs that propelled the Mets into sole possession of first place.

Delgado isn't done and neither are we. I'm very happy we're still going together.

Ollie Perez…Aaron Heilman…Billy Wagner two games in a row…Jose Reyes last night…same deal. Their earlier 2008 shortcomings were obvious and expounded upon here and elsewhere. They all stepped up, manned up, moved up into first this series. They all overcame that Pendletonian nightmare of a ninth from Tuesday night. They all forgot how the Phillies haunt us. The Phillies don't haunt them. The Phillies, for now, trail them.

Mets in first, everybody else follows. It's an ideal alignment.

And for everyone who has scoffed and scoffed some more at the presence on this roster of Robinson Cancel, tell me that guy doesn't have a touch of the Mora in him. Cancel gets a chance and delivers three times now. Three times Cancel has literally rallied the Mets to a victory. Cancel seemed as preposterous when he arrived as Fernando Tatis did. There was a time when another manager trusted has-beens and never-weres named Rick Reed and Matt Franco and Benny Agbayani and Melvin Mora to make all the difference in the world. Those guys seemed preposterous or at best mysterious before they meshed with Mike Piazza and Edgardo Alfonzo and Al Leiter and Robin Ventura and Turk Wendell and indeed made all the difference in the world.

That was my team then. My team now leans on Fernando Tatis and Robinson Cancel and Argenis Reyes and Damion Easley and Jose Reyes and Billy Wagner and Aaron Heilman and Scott Schoeneweis and Ollie Perez and John Maine and Carlos Delgado and David Wright and Carlos Beltran. Some nights they let us down. This afternoon, they lifted us up. Way up.

First place Mets. Let's hug it out.

Hey, we moved into our third first place tie in a week Wednesday night. That means we are, every bit as much as Philadelphia, in first place, co-leading the pack, co-kinging the hill, sharing the whole schmear fifty-fifty-like.

Hard to believe after Tuesday night, but we're no worse than anyone in our division and statistically better than three-quarters of our competitors. One afternoon win today is all that separates us from claiming sole possession of Eastern supremacy.

I have a hard time believing it, and I'm one of those folks who learned young and never forgot that you gotta believe.

It's not pinch-me disbelief, just…geez, a team with Endy Chavez batting second, Marlon Anderson batting sixth, Carlos Beltran bunting in front of Robinson Cancel, everybody leaving thirteen runners on, John Maine struggling early and Billy Wagner representing our last best hope vis-à-vis life, death and Shane Victorino…this is a first place team? Even a co-first place team?

Sure is. We weren't believing it in Field Level (cap tip to Matt Silverman and the mysterious corporation that occasionally favors him with its swell box) until it was all over. After the monkeyshines of the night before, would you have trusted this team to carry a three-run lead across the finish line? Into fifty percent of first place? Past the hungry eyes of Jimmy Rollins? The Duaner Sanchez Follies — featuring the interpretative arm waves of Luis Aguayo — left us a tad cynical, far more than you'd figure fans of a team that had just beaten its archrival for a share of the big lead would be. Honestly, we were kind of giving up when we didn't enhance our three-run bulge in the seventh, eighth or ninth.

But that's our problem. Some people don't overthink these things. Our party was trudging out in “we won?” triumph when we found one of those guys who congratulates everybody else when his team comes out on top. “TIED FOR FIRST PLACE! TIED FOR FIRST PLACE!” he exclaimed as he leaned over a railing dispensing high-five after high-five. “And we can be in first by ourselves if we win tomorrow!”

Yeah, I guess we can. Who'da thunk it one night after the world came to an end?

Terry Pendleton tied the Terry Pendleton game. Tied it. Didn't win it. When it was lost, 22 games remained to do something.

Mike Scioscia tied the Mike Scioscia game. Tied it. Didn't win it. When it was lost, a veritable best-of-three series remained to do something.

Brian Jordan's second home run put the Braves ahead, but the Mets had a half-inning to do something.

Luis Sojo put the Yankees ahead, but the Mets had a half-inning to do something.

Yadier Molina put the Cardinals ahead, but the Mets had a half-inning to do something.

The whole September '07 crew of vandals — Greg Dobbs, Ronnie Belliard, Austin Kearns, Joel Piñeiro, Jeremy Hermida, you name 'em — did its damage and it was all there for the taking anyway. The Mets were tied for first after 161 games and had nine innings to do something.

By comparison to all of which is cited above, the 2008 Mets, after what was without a doubt the absolute worst setback of a season pockmarked by spectacularly dreadful defeats, have it easy.

They have 62 games left on their schedule.

They have 62 games left to make up a one-game deficit in the standings.

They have 62 games left to erase the impact of a night when everything went wrong at the worst time imaginable.

They have 62 games left to learn how to undramatically secure 25th, 26th and 27th outs.

They have 62 games left to extend their starting pitchers.

They have 62 games left to sort out bullpen contingency plans.

They have 62 games left to recognize baserunning situations, such as when to keep running and when to stop running.

They have 62 games left to understand the immense value of tack-on runs.

They have 62 games to work on the fundamentals of fielding.

They have 62 games left to do something.

And not do what they did last night — which was evoke images of Terry Pendleton, Mike Scioscia, Brian Jordan, Luis Sojo, Yadier Molina and September of 2007.

Don't do that anymore, OK?

1. Every run is sacred. Endy getting thrown out at home plate twice is not cute, no matter what the score is. It's leaving the door open for the wolf.

2. Don't be cavalier about who's closing. It's a tougher job than you think. I take back several weeks' worth of abuse, Mr. Wagner.

3. There is nothing wrong with Johan Santana that wouldn't be cured by his supporting cast not repeatedly and horrifyingly spitting the fucking bit. Fire Joe Morgan already put this far better than I could. Mr. Sperkleman should be very angry about the work of Horflitz and Przyblr on the assembly line tonight. So should Mr. Santana.

4. “If the ball's coming to me, what do I do with it?” is a question every fielder should have in mind at all times. You gotta know who's running, who's heading for second, and where the sure out is if things go awry. It might not be at second base.

5. Sometimes you think that a seemingly cosmetic home run that makes the score 5-2 in the eighth is not a blemish but a premonition of doom. The vast majority of times, you're just being paranoid. There is nothing to do but pray each such occurrence is part of the vast majority of times.

6. Some games you never, ever want to stay up to see recapped on SportsCenter.

7. When every frothing-at-the-mouth psychopath on the FAN is going to be justified in whatever bile they spew, don't listen to the FAN. It'll just make things worse.

8. So Taguchi is actually the Devil. Don't turn your back on that little bastard. Not even for a second.

9. Sometimes even Ryan Howard makes the pickup on the short hop.

10. Being one game out on July 23 isn't worth throwing yourself out a window over, no matter how many games you feel a cosmic gut-punch of a loss should be worth in the standings. (Honestly, if Bud Selig had declared us now five games back because of Rule 639a, would you have been surprised?)

11. It's easier to abide by No. 10 when the highest window in your apartment is only 10 feet off the ground.

12. There's always tomorrow.

13. If there isn't tomorrow, compensate by holding a grudge against Tom Gl@vine until the sun goes dark. He deserves it.

This Mets-Phillies series shapes up as the biggest thing to hit Shea Stadium since Paul McCartney joined Billy Joel on stage.

But seriously, I've been thinking about it and I can't come up with a recent Mets series, home or away, that really answered to the name showdown the way this one does. What makes a series a real showdown? Well, let's see…

It's late enough in the season to impact the big picture.

It's July 22. When it's over, it will be July 24. Both the Mets and Phillies will have 60 games left, including five against each other. It's not so late that this will be definitive, but it's far enough long so that it can have repercussions. Worth noting, however, that after the Mets had booked 99 results in 2007, that the N.L. playoff teams figured to be — based on the standings at that moment — the Brewers, the Dodgers, the Padres and our Mets. None of them made it.

It's between two teams going after the same goal.

Obviously the Mets and Phillies are both looking at first place, co-leaders that they are. This is different from last September's collapse special when the Mets were trying to run out the clock and the Phillies were maneuvering toward the Wild Card. They entered that set 6-1/2 back with two-plus weeks left. The Mets and Phillies weren't on the same map on Friday the 14th. You could even argue they were barely on the same competitive continent when the lead was cut to 3-1/2 after the weekend sweep. What we have here is two teams residing at exactly the same latitude, the stakes rarefied and juicy.

It's between two teams with the same amount to gain or lose.

Who benefits more from winning this series? Whoever wins is the cheap and accurate answer. There will be instant analysis that the winner made a statement and that the loser has to scramble, but whoever comes out of this burdened by a one- or three-game deficit relative to the other (with the Marlins mixed in there somewhere) has sixty games to make it up. The Mets won't be shot to hell if they're not in first by suppertime Thursday. Neither will the Phils. Surely, though, they're in the same boat as they climb onto the deck.

It's between two teams who share some history.

The Mets-Phillies rivalry used to be noteworthy for existing only in theory and maybe geography. That's over. All the “team to beat” tripe is underscored by real on-field intensity, even if its fuse was lit for real in 2007.

Is this really the first showdown series for the Mets in a long time? Let's review:

2007: The Mets couldn't be bothered with showdowns up to and including the September Phillie series. That and the one at the Cit in late August were big series for the Phillies, not us, before they commenced. In retrospect, they were enormous for both teams. But you have to know that going in. The Mets had big series post-Phillies in September, but those were dear life affairs, as in hanging on to first, hanging on to any chance of not folding.

2006: I've long maintained the biggest showdown of two years ago was very early, the first game between the Mets and Braves at Shea when Pedro won his 200th decision and the Mets' lead extended to five games in mid-April. We've seen that large leads with months to go evaporate, but there was something different about that night, something different from all the Mets-Braves series that preceded 2006. But it was April. The Mets-Phils series at CBP in the middle of June was significant in that the Mets nailed down the East for all intents and purposes, but it never felt as if Philadelphia was going to make a run. There was a series in August between the Mets and Cardinals that felt portentous, but that's different from a showdown.

2005: The Mets and Phillies met in a Wild Card showdown that spanned the end of August and beginning of September but that's not a divisional showdown. Too many other teams were lurking (with Houston eventually winning the damn thing). We had our hopes up, yet despite Ramon Castro's best efforts, the Mets — losing two of three at Shea — weren't ready in '05. Neither were the Phils. This is a front 'n' center series starting tonight. It should lead Baseball Tonight and any objective sportscast. That's a showdown.

2004: For about two seconds the Mets and Phils showed down for first in Philly (Bobby Abreu vs. John Franco…brrr…), but it was a tad early — first week of July — to take it seriously as death. As the Mets would prove by the beginning of August, the Mets weren't to be taken seriously at all in 2004.

2003: Ahem…

2002: The '02 Mets were supposed to be neck-and-necking with the Braves, but the Mets were done in by their own torpor from May until August. When they garnered a little momentum midsummer and faced a significant series against the Diamondbacks, Bobby Valentine downplayed it (scolding Mo Vaughn for suggesting it was crucial) and the Mets played down from there. By the time the Braves visited Shea again, they were polishing another N.L. East belt and the Mets were putting out feelers to Art Howe.

2001: Real close, but no showdown. The Mets' last best hope for mano-a-mano action for the division was derailed by Brian Jordan on September 23 at Shea. Instead of heading into Atlanta with first place at stake for both teams a week later, it was the Mets who needed wins desperately, the Braves more or less tuning up; they hadn't clinched but deep down, we had to know they would. Tough pair of weekends for the Mets. Outstanding pair of weekends for Brian Jordan.

2000: The last year of balanced scheduling, so the Mets-Braves series weren't as plentiful as they are now. The two rivals faced off in mid-September with the Braves up three games. Two Brave wins (emphatic Brave wins) put to the rest the notion that the Mets could win the East. The final-week series between them at Shea was the essence of anticlimactic. The Braves won the first game and clinched first. The Mets won the second game and clinched the Wild Card. It was the living, breathing embodiment of Everybody Gets a Trophy Day.

1999: All the showdown criteria were lined up perfectly on September 21 as the Mets (92-58) hit Turner Field. Braves (93-57) led by one with twelve to play. The division was as up for grabs as it ever would be in the Bobby V era. So what happened? Turner Field hit the Mets. Chipper Jones, mostly. Three heartbreaking defeats propelled Atlanta to a quick clinch. How quick? The Braves won so many and the Mets lost so many so soon that Atlanta was champ by September 28 when they showed up at Shea for what was supposed to be the ultimate showdown for first. The Mets had actually — no joke — printed up t-shirts that displayed both teams' logos and the fightin' words BATTLE FOR THE EAST on them. I can still see them sitting unsold at concession stands everywhere. They were revived in October during the NLCS, but the message didn't have the same oomph behind it.

If we're going to call this Mets-Phillies series a showdown and not find one series that loomed quite on the same level since 1999, can we say this shapes up as the biggest series the Mets have played in nine years? I wouldn't go that far. There can be big series, like the Mets-Marlins debacle from last season's final dreadful weekend, that aren't showdowns. Can we say, then, that there hasn't been a bigger showdown in which the Mets have been slated to take part in almost a decade? It doesn't sound quite correct, but based on the evidence, it might very well be.