It’s been a big dance, but as ever, 2007’s edition of March Metness has come down to a pair of last waltzes — the Tom Filer Four, this Saturday’s last two games before the Metropolitan Championship hoedown Monday, April 2. It is then that we will find out what is, indisputably, the Quintessential Mets Thing.

The semifinals are at hand. As all sports fans are probably aware by now, the brackets have come down to this:

1 LET’S GO METS (Miracle Champion)
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7 JOSE! JOSE! JOSE! JOSE! (Magic Champion)
—
1 THE HAPPY RECAP (Believe Champion)
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2 BUCKNER (Amazin’ Champion)

Congratulations are in order for this quartet of survivors. The matchups that await five days hence are indeed intriguing, with LGM and J!4 representing a dual shoutout to the Mets fan soul. Meanwhile, The Happy Recap and Buckner share a common bond of their own. When, after all, was there a more ecstatic postgame mood in Mets history than after Game Six?

Here’s how each of the remaining combatants have survived and advanced to the Filer Four.

LET’S GO METS
Chant with which Mets fans have regularly urged on their team since 1962
AASE ROUND: Defeated Mercury Mets (16); Defeated Mojo Risin’ (9)
RICK SWEET 16: Defeated Jane Jarvis (5)
ELLIOT EIGHT: Defeated Rheingold The Dry Beer (2)

JOSE! JOSE! JOSE! JOSE!
Soccer-derived song/cheer dedicated to Mets leadoff sensation Jose Reyes in 2006
AASE ROUND: Defeated LaGuardia (10); Defeated Bill Shea’s Floral Horseshoe (15)
RICK SWEET 16: Defeated Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game? (3)
ELLIOT EIGHT: Defeated The 7 Train (1)

THE HAPPY RECAP
Signature post-victory phrase of 42-year Mets announcer Bob Murphy
AASE ROUND: Defeated Michael Sergio (16); Defeated John Rocker (9)
RICK SWEET 16: Defeated Seinfeld (4)
ELLIOT EIGHT: Defeated The Franchise (3)

BUCKNER
First base error that turned 1986 World Series in Mets’ favor
AASE ROUND: Defeated Dairylea (15); Defeated Jimmy Qualls (10)
RICK SWEET 16: Defeated Pete Rose (5)
ELLIOT EIGHT: Defeated Mr. Met (1)

The Road to the Metropolitan Championship continues Saturday. We will, of course, be there to cover all the action.

March Metness: First Weekend Results
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
Sunday

March Metness: Second Weekend Results
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
Sunday

Saturday yielded one regional championship that clicked true to form — 1-seed Let’s Go Mets dominating the Miracle bracket — and another in which Cinderella raced around the bases when 7-seed Jose! Jose! Jose! Jose! stole the Magic bracket. We know they will meet in six days to decide who will play in the March Metness Metropolitan Championship game.

And there to meet that winner? That’s what we learned earlier Sunday.

BELIEVE REGION FINAL
The Happy Recap (1) vs The Franchise (3)
Bob Murphy never tried to pitch, but Tom Seaver did attempt to broadcast. Let’s just say The Franchise’s forte wasn’t found away from the mound. But Seaver, whatever his disagreements with management in retirement and forced estrangements from the team during his playing career, represented the Mets like no player before, no player since, no player ever. Tom Seaver earned a place in the Cincinnati Reds Hall of Fame, won his 300th game in a Chicago White Sox uniform and threw his final strike for the Boston Red Sox, but he was never The Franchise for any of them. Bob Murphy announced games for the Orioles and Red Sox, yet no fan of those teams could possibly connect the words Happy and Recap the way we can. Seaver and Murphy were two professionals at the tops of their respective professions when Tom wore the blue and orange and Bob voiced fables, foibles and fierceness that shaded those colors. The Franchise provided the direct foundation for 198 Happy Recaps in 11 different regular seasons, all but nine of those coming before the dreaded Wednesday Night Massacre of 1977. Seaver was out. The recaps grew less frequently happy in his absence. But those that occurred felt every bit as special as any that Murph summed up in 1969 or 1973. Bob Murphy was sunshine when darkness descended on Shea, not just between Seaver’s two Met tenures but long afterwards. He is remembered for 1986, yes, but also for 1993, clear through to 2003. Bad years, good years, all years. Murph made each recap and every pitch that preceded them happy affairs just by communicating them. The Franchise comes away with a no-decision from this intense battle of Met quintessence. The Happy Recap gets the win.

AMAZIN’ REGION FINAL
Mr. Met (1) vs Buckner (2)
It’s easy to make jokes about the size of Mr. Met’s head because, let’s face it, it’s hard not to notice it. But Mr. Met has heart. Miles and miles of heart, extending all the way back to his first appearance as a logo in the Polo Grounds. A man named Dan Reilly put on a papier-mâché noggin and made Mr. Met come to life at Shea in the mid-’60s. We didn’t see much of the personification of MM immediately thereafter, but he never left the Metscape completely. Got a Shea raincheck from the ’70s handy? Look whose picture is there, holding an umbrella and seeming distressed that there will be No Game Today. Mr. Met lives for the game, so of course he’s sad it’s raining. On the other hand, he was delighted when the Mets brought him out of storage and made him three-dimensional in 1994. At the time he may have been the Mets’ best player (him or Rico Brogna), certainly its most popular personality. Mr. Met’s stature has only grown over the past 13 years. He went to ESPN, he went to Japan, he even went into the army reserves (well, one of the guys who wore the head did). Mr. Met is all over New York, all over Shea. He himself is impossible to ignore and why would you want to? The same could be said for the legacy of the moment we need refer to only as Buckner. This isn’t about the first basemen who amassed 2,715 base hits, a batting title and loads of admiration for the way he played. Bill Buckner, too, had miles and miles of heart. His existence, however, remains of interest to Mets fans because of one silly little baseball that changed the course of human events. It wasn’t just Buckner that defined the Tenth Inning. There were three base hits and a wild pitch (passed ball if we’re scoring with our eyes open). There was a tie in place when Mookie Wilson connected. There was a prospective eleventh inning if Buckner didn’t happen. But it did. It’s the most famous play in the history of the Mets, the best moment in the history of the Mets, the signature event in the history of the Mets. Mr. Met is an icon, but Buckner is as iconic as it gets. Twenty-one years after an honorable career went askew, Mr. Met becomes one silly big baseball Bill can handle.

Believe champion The Happy Recap and Amazin’ winner Buckner will face off in the Tom Filer Four on Saturday, March 31, approximately 40 minutes after the conclusion of the Let’s Go Mets-Jose! Jose! Jose! Jose! matchup.

The excitement over March Metness reaches a fever pitch this weekend as the Tom Filer Four gets filled out. All the regional 1-seeds entered these two days of play still alive. Will they leave the same way? Let’s find out what happened Saturday.

MIRACLE REGION FINAL
Let’s Go Mets (1) vs Rheingold The Dry Beer (2)
Rheingold is to be congratulated for maintaining such enduring brand equity as the Mets sponsor of all time despite an almost unbroken absence that dates to the last years of the reserve clause. Liebmann Breweries closed down in 1974 and the brand drifted to that great Beverage Barn in the sky, but the label was reborn in 1998 when a new owner dipped into its frothy and glorious heritage. Rheingold II was brewed in Utica but it would still be The Dry Beer, sponsoring Mets radiocasts, pouring in limited quantities at Shea (there was a Rheingold Beach Towel Day — take that, Budweiser) and, for its introductory press luncheon, trotting out Ed Kranepool and Tommie Agee to share golden malt and barley memories. Alas, Rheingold couldn’t go home again. Within a year, the Mets connection was deemed too brittle to sell to a later generation’s thirst and a more modern, less baseball tack was attempted by its caretakers. Rheingold The Dry Beer returned mostly to memory, and that’s not a bad keg to tap. Meanwhile, Let’s Go Mets, which started with Rheingold at the Polo Grounds in 1962, is still foaming strong. Let’s Go Mets chants its way to the Miracle Region championship.

MAGIC REGION FINAL
The 7 Train (1) vs Jose! Jose! Jose! Jose! (7)
For anybody who has ever peered left toward Flushing-Main Street or anxiously fixed on first base with Paul Lo Duca in the batter’s box, this shapes up as a long-awaited showdown between endurance and speed, between conveyance of people and conveyance of hope, between two truly Metsian entities proudly bearing the number 7 and operating on an elevated track. The 7 Train has shuttled Sheagoers since the ’60s, but its profile was raised to dizzying heights in late 1999 when John Rocker identified it by numeral as the carrier of everything that was wrong with New York and New Yorkers. Like we cared what he had to say (though it is bizarrely admirable that he knew what it was called). The 7 Train’s moment in the sun may have come in the Subway Series season of 2000 when a DiamondVision public service announcement reminded the crowd of all the public transportation options available to get you to Shea. Ferries and buses and LIRR elicited not a peck of acknowledgment. But upon announcement of The 7 Train, a roar went up. Hey, that’s OUR train! Thanks partly to Rocker (if you can stomach thanking him for anything), partly to the international cachet of those who have Discovered Queens and made it their home but, it’s fair to say, mostly because of the Mets, The 7 Train is probably the most famous subway line in the world. It’s jammed, it’s late, it’s often unpleasant, but yes, it’s ours and it runs. But does it run like Jose Reyes? Express? Always? Fans some seven years ago may have cheered the 7, but the other 7 moved to pre-eminence in 2006. It wasn’t the smoothest of rides. He had gone into the shop a little too much for comfort in 2003 and 2004 and then had some stops and starts in 2005. But from hamstring patient and sabermetric whipping boy, Reyes rose through the ranks in the magical ’06 season to emerge as the quintessential contemporary Met. Pedro may have been Pedro and Wright the early choice for MVP, but only Jose was utterly singled out by the fans in Hey, he’s OUR player! fashion. The cry of Jose! Jose! Jose! Jose!, borrowed and altered from another sport but ingeniously mass-crafted to one man’s specifications, was unprecedented in Met annals. There may have been Mooooo for Mookie and Ed-DEE for Kranepool, but this unique, modern homegrown expression of devotion and enthusiasm proved something else altogether. Is it too soon for it to be iconic? Not at all. Is it loud enough to derail the noisy 7 Train? By at least six stations. After all, not everybody takes the subway to Shea, but everybody’s on board with Jose Reyes. Jose! Jose! Jose! Jose! pulls off the upset of the Larry Elliot Eight and pulls into the Tom Filer Four for a veritable chantoff versus Let’s Go Mets.

Sunday will reveal the champions of the Believe and Amazin’ regions.

Favorites carried the flag in the first night of Rick Sweet 16 action, with both 1-seeds advancing. Would the story be same the second night? Let’s check the March Metness results from Friday.

BELIEVE REGION SEMIFINALS
The Happy Recap (1) vs Seinfeld (4)
Jerry Seinfeld is the celebrity fan in all of Metsdom. He knows his way to his seat because he’s had it for years. The television show that shot him to stardom reflected his true blue & orange fealty. No regularly scheduled network television program did more to promote the cause of the Mets than Seinfeld. The Keith Hernandez episode is the one that springs to the collective mind first, but don’t forget “The Subway,” in which Jerry encounters the naked guy and dissects the Mets’ hitting — Bonilla, Murray; speed — Coleman; and leadership — Franco, while dismissing any worries over Doc Gooden’s rotator cuff surgery. “They got pitching,” he tells the naked guy. All right, so Jerry was wrong about the ’92 Mets, but that stuff doesn’t wind up in a script unless somebody knows what he’s talking about. Of course tipping the cap toward this TV show’s informed baseball content leaves a pretty big matzoh ball hanging out there. We all know who George Costanza wound up working for. Sure he may have gone to extremes in his failed attempt to quit and move across town for a better job (did the 1997 Mets shape up as so lame that they would want to hire George Costanza as director of scouting?), humming a nearly accurate “Meet The Mets” along the way, but Seinfeld’s Mets cred took a beating when the Yankees became George’s employer. Even the sound of Bob Murphy’s voice in the final half-hour ep of the series (the gang leaves Shea early and listens on the car radio only to run up against the Puerto Rican Day Parade) can’t quite compensate for that faux pas. Besides, Seinfeld was famously about nothing. Murph and his Happy Recap meant everything.

The Franchise (3) vs Baseball Like It Oughta Be (7)
Other teams have franchise players, but only one has The Franchise (and we’re not talking Steve Francis). Other teams play ball well, but only one played Baseball Like It Oughta Be (the ’96 Cardinals used that slogan to reflect the return of grass to Busch Stadium, but come now). Tom Seaver and the ’86 Mets are, respectively, the genuine articles of their type in team history: definitive ballplayer, definitive ballclub. They crossed paths in the 1986 World Series, Seaver from the Disabled List, the Mets from on high. Would have The Franchise stymied his old franchise? Could have Tom Seaver, 41 years old, done for the Red Sox what Al Nipper didn’t? We’ll never know. Maybe we didn’t want to find out. It’s hard to think anyone could stop those Mets; even young Roger Clemens couldn’t. But for all the 108-win greatness of those Oughta Be Mets, they left behind no single player who looms as large as The Franchise. With the possible exception of Mike Piazza — imported and here for a shorter tenure — no active-duty man in uniform has had close to the kind of impact on the Mets that Seaver did. Baseball Like It Oughta Be spoke volumes. The Franchise says it all. Tom Seaver and the nickname he inspired clear their throats now for a Sunday showdown with The Happy Recap.

AMAZIN’ REGION SEMIFINALS
Mr. Met (1) vs Pete Rose (5)
You can’t have your team without their team. And they can’t have their team without somebody you can’t stand. Was there anyone who went unstood by Mets fans longer or harder than Pete Rose? His career makes Chipper Jones look like a Larry Come Lately. For twenty-five seasons he came to New York and got under our skin — started doing it as a visitor to the Polo Grounds when he beat out Ron Hunt for Rookie of the Year. Taunted Tom Seaver at the ’69 All-Star Game even though the surging Mets were the talk of baseball: “You’re lucky to be where you are,” he said. (To which Tom answered, “Pete, we’ve got some guys who can get the ball over the plate.”) The takeout slide of Buddy escalated his infamy, though it’s worth noting his clutch and late home runs in Games One and Four of that ’73 NLCS didn’t improve his approval ratings among Mets fans. When Pete Rose became a free agent in 1978, the Mets made him, in their own half-assed manner, an offer. He wasn’t shy about scoffing before signing with Philadelphia. No hard feelings from the Mets, though. They gave him a day at Shea the next April, honoring his having set a new modern N.L. hit streak record at Shea the previous summer. He got standing ovations then (as he did upon having hit three homers in a Saturday game that same year). He was received warmly now. And how did Pete Rose address the Mets fans, his erstwhile tormentors? Did he acknowledge the irony, the shared history, the special relationship? No. He told the sparse gathering between games of a Mets-Phillies doubleheader, “it’s you fans who make me go-go-go!” He could have been talking to a Little League banquet. Detente ended. Pete Rose stayed with the Phillies long enough to become the first face booed lustily on DiamondVision when it debuted in 1982. In his final year as a player, back with the Reds, he inserted himself into the Cincinnati lineup and stroked the three-run single that led to the dismantling of Doctor K, ending Dwight Gooden’s captivating 37-5 stretch on May 11, 1986 in an irksome 3-2 loss. Pete Rose’s lifetime average versus the Mets was .302. Felt higher, probably because Rose was such an overwhelming and irritating presence. His head was figuratively as big as Mr. Met’s is literally. But Pete was a way bigger ass. Pete Rose may be the quintessential Met opponent, but we’ll take ours over theirs when the chips are on the table. Mr. Met hustles past Rose and into the Larry Elliot Eight.

Kiner’s Korner (3) vs Buckner (2)
Best story to come out of Ralph’s treasure trove of tales regarded his interview of the reticent Choo Choo Coleman. He was famously reticent, choosing to keep his own counsel save for calling everybody bub. Actually, he was famous for his manner mostly because Ralph made his tick so unforgettable. Choo Choo didn’t want to elaborate his thoughts a whole lot, which made it tough to ask him questions. But that was Ralph’s job, so he lobbed him a softball: “What’s your wife’s name, Choo Choo, and what’s she like?” The immortal response: “Her name’s Mrs. Coleman, bub, and she likes me.” Ralph has a million of ’em. We are well off for it. It’s hardly fair to compare 45 going on 46 seasons of enchantment with the one moment that enchanted us beyond all others. But that’s what March Metness is about. So let’s put it this way: Kiner’s Korner came on after home games. Buckner kept the most miraculous of home games from ending. A season and a championship dream, too. When it’s put that way, a close decision goes to Buckner. Will Bill ever get revenge on the Mets? He’ll have his chance when the Amazin’ final brings him the head of Mr. Met.

Saturday will bring us the Miracle and Magic regional finals.

No losers reach the Rick Sweet 16. You get this far in March Metness, you can stake a serious claim to being a quintessential element of the overall Mets experience. While there are no losers, only half of the entries in any given matchup will get to walk away a winner.

Here’s how that inevitable winnowing process unfolded Thursday night.

MIRACLE REGION SEMIFINALS
Let’s Go Mets (1) vs Jane Jarvis (5)
Ms. Jarvis gets this party started by tickling the Thomas Organ as she did so expertly at Shea Stadium from 1964 to 1979. Whether it’s a simple “CHARGE!” or a trademark rendition of “Meet The Mets,” the crowd is suitably moved. Moved? How about revved? Shea has heard the Beatles, the Stones, Grand Funk and Bruce Springsteen, but no live musical act has ever owned the old ballpark like its organist of record. There’s been more to this accomplished pianist’s career than the Shea gig — she recorded several well-received jazz albums and helped run the Muzak company. As recently as 2006, having passed 90, she was playing dates in Manhattan. Recorded music has been the rule since Frank Cashen imported it from Baltimore in 1980, but Jane Jarvis will forever remain a singular name recalled for producing a singular sound as long as Shea Stadium is remembered. If anybody could give Let’s Go Mets an aural run for its money, it’s her. She did, but Let’s Go Mets is a 1-seed for a reason. Truth be told, the Shea crowd doesn’t need much revving beyond the promise of the next pitch. Jane plays her best — she always has — but Let’s Go Mets takes another round.

Banner Day (3) vs Rheingold The Dry Beer (2)
Miracle proved a musical region because you simply cannot think of Rheingold The Dry Beer without wanting to break out into jingle. That’s RTDB’s not-so-secret weapon in taking on one of the great Met traditions. My beer is Rheingold the dry beer/Think of Rheingold whenever you buy beer/It’s refreshing not sweet/It’s the extra treat/Won’t you try extra dry Rheingold beer? If you grew up hearing those commercials, you can’t forget the melody or the lyrics. If you didn’t, you wish you had. Rheingold wasn’t just a beer either. It was the sponsor of Mets baseball, the one with approval on who would announce the games. If a man named Norm Varney, account executive from J. Walter Thompson, had balked, there might have been no Murph, no Ralph, no Lindsey. Fortunately, Varney — and George Weiss — had good taste, at least as good as Rheingold’s. “To Err Is Human, To Forgive, A Mets Fan” went one famous fan-drawn banner. It left out the thought that to beer is divine. Banner Day made for some great parades. Rheingold provided an even better backbeat. The Dry Beer douses Banner Day’s championship dream and proceeds to the Larry Elliot Eight against Let’s Go Mets, a classic 1-vs-2 matchup.

MAGIC REGION SEMIFINALS
The 7 Train (1) vs Outta Here! (5)
The 7 Train will eventually get you to Shea Stadium, but it’s been known to slow down at most inopportune stations. If you and it were running late in tandem between 1989 and 2005, you could depend on the voice of Gary Cohen to whisk you to the Willets Point stop in your ear if not in person. As long as you stood near a window, you had as good a seat as whatever the ticket burning a hole in your wallet entitled you to…eventually. Listening to Gary Cohen on whatever radio you had handy was one of the privileges of being a Mets fan during his 18-year stint on WFAN, whether he was calling home runs Outta Here! or merely reading the lineups at Junction Boulevard. Gary’s won greater exposure on television, as fans who would never think to bother with something as hopelessly retro as a radio have discovered him. But for those who relied on him in a pinch, it just isn’t the same. As the 7 Train gets in gear and begins to rumble toward 103rd Street, we listen for Gary. And he just isn’t there. Alas, neither is Outta Here! in this tournament. The 7 Train grinds, squeaks, sputters but, in the end, rolls on.

Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game? (3) vs Jose! Jose! Jose! Jose! (7)
Talk about old school against new school. Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game encompasses everything about this beloved team’s beloved roots: Casey, Marv, Whitey Ashburn, Hot Rod Kanehl, Roger Craig, the Polo Grounds — the whole tragicomic bit. Jimmy Breslin’s volume describing their downs and further downs is as physically thin as the portfolio of 1962 Met wins but as rich as any baseball book for sheer color. And it’s been said you can’t be too rich or too thin. Just ask Jose Reyes. He’s lithe, he’s well-compensated and he’s writing a new chapter for another generation of fans. They love him every bit as much as the gang from Gilmore’s Tavern in Breslin’s book loved his shortstop predecessor Elio Chacon. (We used to think Pee Wee Reese was pretty good. That was until Elio Chacon came along.) There’s not much irony to the loyalty Jose inspires, just joy. “The New York Mets are in existence,” Breslin wrote, “for a simple reason: New York City needed them.” New York needed Reyes in its own way when he came into our lives in 2003. By 2006, the need had grown in intensity. The legend of the ’62 Mets will not diminish (an odd thing to say about a 40-win unjuggernaut). Yet the legend of Jose! Jose! Jose! Jose! is poised to only grow. Thus, new tops old in an upset. It will be the 7 Train versus the 7-seed on Saturday.
The Believe and Amazin’ regional semis get underway Friday night.