The weekend that makes March Metness the memory-laden free-for-all that it is came to an end Sunday, with the final eight qualifiers for the Rick Sweet 16 earning their trips to the next round. While some pack for home, others pack for quintessence. Here’s who and/or what made it to Getaway Day and what they did once they got there.

MIRACLE REGIONAL
Ball Off The Wall (6) vs Banner Day (3)
Ball Off The Wall gave Mets fans every reason to Believe. The one-of-a-kind bounce (score it Fence-7-5-2) allowed the Mets to move within a half-game of first place on September 20, 1973, a position they’d seize the next night and, improbably, never let loose of the rest of that year. It’s moments like those that make fans want to scribble uplifting message on bedsheets for years to come. Funny thing, though, is the Banner Day banners came out in seasons far removed from 1973. No matter how much the Mets fan outlook is informed by a play as perfect and perfectly bizarre as Ball Off The Wall, the banner phenomenon was in place 11 years before Richie Zisk succumbed to Ron Hodges’ well-placed tag. There were banners and placards flying through the Polo Grounds before the Mets could ever dream of reaching .500 let alone reaching a game below .500 — which is where their record stood when Hodges drove in John Milner in the bottom of the inning when he outed Zisk. This, like that game, was a battle that lasted a full 13 innings, but when it was over, Banner Day slid home with the winning score.
Marvelous Marv (7) vs Rheingold The Dry Beer (2)
“CRANBERRY! STRAWBERRY! WE LOVE THRONEBERRY!” So went the chant at the Polo Grounds in 1962. What were those fans…drunk? Only on love for the quintessential 1962 Met. Or perhaps a little on the sponsor’s product. We can’t tell from here. It is ironic, in light of this matchup, that Marvelous Marv Throneberry’s latter-day fame would come from his starring in a beer commercial. It’s too bad it wasn’t for Rheingold The Dry Beer, a brand that disappeared from the market by the time Miller Lite was hiring old athletes to demonstrate the manliness of being calorie-conscious. The Mets would find other cult heroes, other first basemen, even another fan-magnet whose name ended in berry. They’d also take their business to Schaefer and, once the company that brewed it evaporated, Budweiser. But does anybody think of Mets and beer without thinking of Rheingold? Anybody over 40 at least? Even somewhat under 40? The sudsy connection is too strong to be watered down, even at the stone hands of Marvelous Marv. Rheingold The Dry Beer wins — it will take on Banner Day — and graciously throws a victory party for everyone to enjoy. Everyone? Even Throneberry? Well, they wuz going to give Marv a cold one, but they wuz afraid he’d drop it.

MAGIC REGIONAL
Mettle The Mule (11) vs Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game? (3)
Some futility is cuter than other futility. 1962 futility, as painful as it was to have lived through for the uniformed personnel of the New York Mets, lives on fondly recalled because there is a mulligan and an innocence to be applied to first-year expansion teams, particularly one helmed by someone as eminently quotable as Charles Dillon “Casey” Stengel. When he rhetorically asked, “can’t anybody here play this game?” all anybody could do was laugh (and, in Jimmy Breslin’s case, take copious notes). But there is nothing cute or innocent or funny about an eighteenth-year expansion team. That was what the Mets had become by 1979, and the introduction of Mettle The Mule as mascot and de facto grounds crew helper underscored that sad, sad fact. It’s not Mettle’s fault the Mets lost 99 games in ’79. Nor were the jokes that followed his removal from the Shea scene — usually involving that strange meatlike dish they were serving in the press room — in good taste. He was just a mule stuck where no more than 788,905 persons chose to be in 1979. Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game? may have been a question born of frustration, but it advances here for having left behind the happier legacy. One Hundred Twenty losses, yes, but nobody ever had to clean up after it.
Jose! Jose! Jose! Jose! (7) vs Bill Shea’s Floral Horseshoe (15)
Is the lowest seed to make it out of the first round any more than an early season wonder? Bill Shea deserves to be remembered longer than the stadium that bears his name will stand, and it is fervently hoped that the Shea family’s tradition of offering the Mets’ manager a good luck floral horseshoe every Home Opener will survive into Citi Field. It is also hoped that the new joint will vibrate just as the current one did in 2006 with cries of Jose! Jose! Jose! Jose! and then some. The Sheas did New York proud by returning National League baseball to the city where it belongs. Jose Reyes and those who encourage his exploits are ready to keep the pride going. A happy new tradition edges a beloved and well-meaning established ritual. The four Jose!s next set their sights on answering Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game?

BELIEVE REGIONAL
The Happy Recap (1) vs John Rocker (9)
The mere thought of “Hi everybody!” emanating from the tinniest of transistor speakers obliterates every ugly thought associated with the ugliest buffoon to disgrace Shea Stadium in all of its 43 seasons. If Bob Murphy can dismember John Rocker at the beginning of his broadcast, imagine what The Happy Recap would do to him. Murph moves forward. Rocker can buy a MetroCard.
Revised Yearbook (12) vs Seinfeld (4)
Given in-season trading deadlines, waiver wire pickups and minor league recalls, it would figure the Mets’ always colorful annuals with their suitable-for-framing team pictures would require a Revised Yearbook. Seinfeld, on the other hand, was Mets-friendly from the beginning. The fifth scene in the pilot episode, when the show was still called The Seinfeld Chronicles, showed Jerry picking up a ringing phone and anxiously telling his caller, “If you know what happened in the Mets game, don’t say anything, I taped it,” before ever mentioning “hello”. Now that’s media that had its priorities start from the first run. Seinfeld is already lobbying for its next gig, against the Happy Recap to be scheduled for — when else? — Thursday at 9.

AMAZIN’ REGIONAL
Mr. Met (1) vs Serval Zipper (9)
The Queens skyline hasn’t been quite the same since the Serval Zipper sign came down. Mr. Met is sympathetic for the loss, but notes he doesn’t bother with zippers. He’s a stitch man himself. And let’s be honest: In your life as a fan, you might peer over the fence and notice Serval Zipper. You might notice U-Haul. You might even notice the occasionally blazing car fire in what’s left of the parking lot. But when he pads on by, you can’t take your eyes off Mr. Met…especially if he stops and sits right in front of you. For now, he stands at the head of his bracket.
Pete Rose (5) vs 1964 World’s Fair (4)
While Shea Stadium and the 1964 World’s Fair are linked by birth, boardwalk and Marina, they were not a single-admission ticket. Shea was considered a commercial success, boosting Mets attendance by 650,000 versus the last year at the Polo Grounds and instantly attracting attention among tourists and locals with rides and exhibits like the 32-inning doubleheader, the Jim Bunning perfect game and Ron Hunt’s start in the All-Star Game. Robert Moses’ other Flushing Meadows project didn’t, uh, fare quite as well. The ’64 version was not as well received as its 1939 predecessor, did not attract the crowds predicted for it and, not long after it was over, its grounds did not maintain itself as any kind of cohesive going concern — as the New York Pavilion’s Gilkeyesque gag cameo in Men In Black illustrated. Pete Rose never called the Shea area home, but as a visitor, he was hardly an alien presence. You gotta have somebody to root against, and for a quarter-century nobody ever quite filled the despicable shoes of Mets Opponent as did Rose. He takes it to the Fair and will bet all he has that he can upset Mr. Met the way he upset Mets fans for a quarter-century.

March Metness isn’t so much a big dance as it is a three-week Merengue Night. The first Saturday is when everybody starts to get up and move in earnest. Let’s see who and/or what among Day One’s winners will be shaking and/or grooving their way to the Rick Sweet 16.

MIRACLE REGIONAL
Let’s Go Mets (1) vs Mojo Risin’ (9)
Did you know “Mr. Mojo Risin’,” the mystical refrain from the Doors’ “L.A. Woman,” is a perfect anagram for Jim Morrison? Did you know that Robin Ventura intuitively knew it would provide the backbeat for perhaps the craziest September and October in Mets history? Do you remember the bass accompanying Todd Pratt’s trip around the bases once it could be ascertained that Steve Finley caught nothing but air to end the 1999 National League Division Series? There’s never been a less sensical yet simultaneously more appropriate theme for any Mets’ pennant drive. It was “You Gotta Believe” without actually spelling it out. Mojo Risin’ belongs to the dying and resurrecting days of the last Mets season of the last century, a magnificently momentous stretch by any measure. But Let’s Go Mets is eternal. Eternity beats back the Risin’ challenge.
Jane Jarvis (5) vs Mike Vail (13)
Vail is the Cinderella of the Miracle region, ironically going up against the only lady in the March Metness tournament. Mike made it this far based on both the electrifying 23-game hitting streak he put together shortly after his August 1975 elevation to the big leagues and his resounding lack of followup. He earned a starting role for ’76 after his strong debut, but sabotaged himself by breaking a foot playing offseason basketball. Not that basketball has anything to do with March Metness, but let’s just say flashing in the pan will only get you so far. Ms. Jarvis can pound out a triumphant charge as she heads to the next round against the formidable Let’s Go Mets.

MAGIC REGIONAL
The 7 Train (1) vs In Ten Years… (9)
It is not widely known whether Casey Stengel ever opted to take the Times Square-bound IRT after skippering one of his team’s many home losses in 1964 and 1965. If he did, it’s not out of the question that he might have had to have waited an unacceptable amount of time for the next train. And if we accept that premise, Casey may have turned his wit on the New York City subway system and remarked to a companion, “In ten years, one of my Youth of America has a chance to be a star…or sooner than this damn hell-train will commence to arriving.” For a legend whose managerial career ended on a broken hip sustained while getting out of an automobile, perhaps he should have been more patient and used mass transit. In any event, The 7 Train has been synonymous with ferrying Mets fans to Casey Stengel Plaza for well over ten years. It wins. You could look it up.
Outta Here! (5) vs Grand Slam Single (4)
The signature phrase of the most skilled announcer in modern-day Mets history was applied to the signature postseason swing of modern-day Mets history. This is what Gary Cohen had to say about what Robin Ventura did on October 17, 1999: Ventura is waiting. McGlinchy staring in has his signs. The two-one pitch…A DRIVE IN THE AIR TO DEEP RIGHT FIELD! THAT BALL HEADED TOWARD THE WALL…THAT BALL IS…OUTTA HERE! OUTTA HERE! A GAME-WINNING GRAND SLAM HOME RUN OFF THE BAT OF ROBIN VENTURA! Ventura with a grand slam! They’re mobbing him before he can get to second base! The Mets have won the ballgame! Did the moment make the call or did the call enhance the moment? The answer to both is absolutely yes. This matchup goes not just to overtime but to a fifteenth inning…and is decided by Cohen’s keen and immediate observation, amid a frenzied tableau, that Ventura never got to second base and his presence of mind to note it seconds after unleashing what would be, from another announcer’s tonsils, just a catchphrase. Grand Slam Single is indelible. Outta Here! echoes for the ages. The echo takes it. Will it be resonant enough to drown out The 7 Train? We’ll find out.

BELIEVE REGIONAL
Shoe Polish Ball (6) vs The Franchise (3)
Shoe Polish Ball contributed mightily to a world championship. But so did The Franchise. Would have the Mets beaten the Orioles without Gil Hodges’ heady intervention and stoic powers of persuasion? It certainly helped the 1969 cause, but to imbue it with singular responsibility would be to overlook two catches by Tommie Agee, one by Ron Swoboda, fabulous timing by Al Weis, quick wristwork by J.C. Martin and, for that matter, the bat of Donn Clendenon who came up after the smudged sphere nudged Lou DiMuro into sending Cleon Jones to first. It also obscures the masterful pitching of Jerry Koosman, Nolan Ryan, Ron Taylor and The Franchise himself, Tom Seaver, who threw a masterful ten innings to capture a) Game Four of the World Series and b) this round of March Metness.
Baseball Like It Oughta Be (7) vs Meet The Mets (2)
Bravado boiled into five words takes on two verses, a bridge and a chorus of friendly-like invitationeering. Meet The Mets is a perennial sentiment. Baseball Like It Oughta Be can portray but one annus. And what a sweet annus 1986 was. The guarantee you’d have the time of your life in the Mets’ theme song didn’t really come true for almost a quarter-century after its debut. When MTM was first heard in 1963, the Mets were preparing to go out and capture 51 ballgames. An improvement over ’62, but hardly a peak in one’s existence. As for knocking those home runs over the wall, the ’86 Mets set the mark with 148, exceeding by nine the previous standard…established in 1962. Info like this Oughta not be ignored. Meeting The Mets is always fun, but Oughta Be pulls off the upset and will meet The Franchise in the Rick Sweet 16.

AMAZIN’ REGIONAL
Jack Lang (11) vs Kiner’s Korner (3)
Jack Lang is closely identified with the Mets beat given that he was on it from its beginning in 1962 to the late 1980s, first with the Long Island Press and then (after the Press folded in 1977) the Daily News. He also wrote the invaluable team history The New York Mets: Twenty-Five Years of Baseball Magic, contributed to Mets magazine Inside Pitch until 2004 and served as longtime secretary of the Baseball Writers Association of America, a job that allowed him the honor of informing retired players that they were about to be immortalized in Cooperstown. As if that weren’t enough, it was Lang who came up with “The Franchise” as the perfect sobriquet for the perfect pitcher, a creation that carries the added bonus of having driven M. Donald Grant to distraction. The chairman of the board once scolded Lang that “Mrs. Payson and I,” not Tom Seaver, were the franchise. In all, it was a long and meritorious career for Jack Lang, one of the most Mets-associated people to never actually work for the organization. But Kiner’s Korner is Kiner’s Korner and Ralph Kiner does not go down easily — or at all — even to a Hall of Fame writer.
Jimmy Qualls (10) vs Buckner (2)
You can argue it was the trade of Nolan Ryan that assured the Mets of missing out on at least seven of the theoretically dozens of no-hitters they could have accrued by now. But it’s impossible to consider Jimmy Qualls — lifetime .223 hitter over 139 at-bats — and not apply his name above all others to the no-hitless Metropolitan phenomenon. What ungodly business did Jimmy Qualls have in reaching Tom Seaver for a single when Seaver was two outs from achieving a perfect game on July 9, 1969? Jimmy Qualls experienced, it’s safe to assume, 138 completely inconsequential at-bats and one that lives forever in the heads of millions of New York National League baseball fans. When Antonio Perez or Chris Burke or Luis Castillo or Kit Pellow or Chin-Hui Tsao or whoever’s next throws up the latest obstacle to that transcendent moment of Met happiness we can all only wonder about, there is but one name that will spring to mind again and again and again. Jimmy Qualls is our quintessential heartbreak kid in our quintessential quest for the one goal we can never reach. What a powerful name it is. If Jimmy Qualls had never been in Leo Durocher’s lineup that July night, if Don Young hadn’t been frozen out of it by his atrocious defense the afternoon before, if Tom Seaver had cashed in that no-hit, no-walk, no-flaw performance, we would be collectively and retroactively ecstatic for all the days of our lives. But if Buckner doesn’t do Buckner…such a hypothetical is not to be contemplated. We would trade a dozen Fregosis and a thousand anti-Quallses for that single, solitary E-3 every time. Outcome: Prepare for Buckner versus Kiner.

The second day of March Metness proceeded with its usual mix of the expected and the unexpected. Let’s just say some brackets are already looking better than others after completion of the first phase of the Don Aase Round.
Here’s who played Friday and who will still be playing Sunday for the right to go on to the Rick Sweet 16.

MIRACLE REGIONAL
The Ball Off The Wall (6) vs Ten-Run Inning (11)
Ten-Run Inning (’00) was feeling confident. It had just tied the game and Mike Piazza was coming up with the promise of a laser-beam home run to left. However, Mike wasn’t facing Terry Mulholland. He was facing the most pixie-dusted defensive play in regular-season Mets history. Alas, Piazza’s shot hit, yup, the top of the wall and bounded straight into Jones’ glove. He relayed it to Garrett who relayed it to Hodges who put the tag and on the signature big inning Mets history.
Banner Day (3) vs Say Goodbye To America (14)
Willie Mays gave the most memorable speech in Mets history, uttering one of the greatest retirement lines by any baseball player at any time. But Willie could have orated, driven in the crucial run in Game Five of the ’73 NLCS, flown to Oakland and actually caught a couple of balls in the time it took any Banner Day parade — even one from the really sad years — to complete its trek around the track. The perfect expression of fan devotion outlasts the perfect expression of farewell and takes its placards to the next round against The Ball Off The Wall.
Marvelous Marv (7) vs Al Lang (10)
The Mets shared Al Lang (Field, then Stadium) with the Cardinals for the first 26 springs of their existence. Marv Throneberry spent time as property of the Orioles, the Athletics and the Yankees. But the ultimate cult Met belonged to nobody but us. The Mets ditched Al Lang for the wilderness of Florida’s east coast. Nobody has ever replaced Marvelous Marv in Met lore. Throneberry’s a winner.
Rheingold The Dry Beer (2) vs Generation K (15)
Longtime and quintessential Mets sponsor Rheingold offered the 10 Minute Head…or a foam that lasted longer than Izzy, Pulse and Paul lasted as a unit. The ultimate Met disappointment is flattened by the ultimate Met beverage. Come Sunday, it’s beer versus Marv in a battle of classic Met four-letter words.

MAGIC REGIONAL
Who Let The Dogs Out? (6) vs Mettle The Mule (11)
In an all-animal act, the De Roulet daughters made an ass of themselves, unveiling the most unlikely mascot in the history of the Mets. But at this, arguably the organization’s lowest moment, a mule named Mettle was just what the doctor ordered…assuming the 1979 Mets weren’t too cheap to pay a doctor. The fight song of the 2000 National League champions absorbs the upset after ill-advisedly slowing into a trot.
Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game? (3) vs Scioscia (14)
Mike Scioscia’s ninth-inning home run continues to represent the worst letdown in Mets history. But losing the 1988 NLCS was cake next to the 1962 season as chronicled by Jimmy Breslin. The sometimes stubborn columnist’s timeless work bears down against the legendarily stubborn mule Mettle on Sunday.
Jose! Jose! Jose! Jose! (7) vs LaGuardia (10)
Planes taking off and landing at a major air transportation hub doesn’t make for the best accompaniment to a baseball game, but it is a signature sound of Shea and will probably be so at Citi, too. The jets makes opposing batters step out of the box. But Jose Reyes and his very own sing-song chant unnerves opposing pitchers. Is there a flight that lands at LaGuardia as fast as Jose rounded the bases in 2006? Nope. Jose took off and was never topped.
Home Run Apple (2) vs Bill Shea’s Floral Horseshoe (15)
No surer sign of a new season than Bill Shea or, since his 1991 passing, his family members showing up at their eponymous stadium with the good luck arrangement. Every manager who’s managed Opening Day since 1964 has been greeted with this simplest of gestures. It’s great for the florist business, too. Home Run Apple, on the other hand, once misplaced its leaf. And it sits at the outer edge of a horseshoe-shaped ballpark named Shea. There’s just too much karma to mess with Bill. Ladies and gentlemen, we have our biggest upset of the tournament to date. Bill Shea’s Floral Horseshoe topples Home Run Apple and will run up against Jose! Jose! Jose! Jose! on Sunday! Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!

BELIEVE REGIONAL
The Happy Recap (1) vs Michael Sergio (16)
Michael Sergio parachuted into Shea Stadium before Game Six of the 1986 World Series. Several hours later, Bob Murphy was delivering the happiest Happy Recap imaginable. Sergio is quintessential Mets trivia. The Happy Recap is quintessential Mets. No contest.
Diamond Club (8) vs John Rocker (9)
Elitist Mets insitution taking on anti-Mets buffoon. Elitism has no place at Shea Stadium. Buffoonery, even the vilest kind, is a baseball tradition. If it’s a choice of having somebody looking down their nose at you versus having somebody to look down your nose upon…Rocker takes this one. The buffoon figures to be a vast underdog to Murph in their Sunday clash.
The Sign Man (5) vs Revised Yearbook (12)
Two prime outlets for information at Shea go head to head. Karl Ehrhardt hoists the message “There Are No Words”. But Lindsey Nelson reminds us our baseball library won’t be complete without the revised edition of our 1976 yearbook which is full of great new pictures and words. Who’s going to argue with Lindsey Nelson? Revised Yearbook upsets The Sign Man.
Seinfeld (4) vs Yo La Tengo (13)
Forty-four years later, it still may be the best anecdote in Mets history, the story of how Richie Ashburn learned to yell “I Got It!” in Spanish in order to call of Elio Chacon, only to have monolingual Frank Thomas not understand him and run him over. It sounds like a plot out of Seinfeld, the television show with more and truer Met plotlines than any other. Ashburn’s in the Hall of Fame, but Keith Hernandez is Keith Hernandez. Seinfeld in a close one. Next stop: Revised Yearbook.

AMAZIN’ REGIONAL
Mr. Met (1) vs Wednesday Night Massacre (16)
Mets fans everywhere grimaced when M. Donald Grant traded Tom Seaver and Dave Kingman on June 15, 1977. But Mr. Met just kept on smiling. You think one lousy night is going to get to the quintessential team symbol? Mr. Met keeps his smile pasted on.
Mayor Lindsay (8) vs Serval Zipper (9)
John Lindsay had a topsy-turvy 1969. After a massive snowstorm crippled Queens that February, the Manhattan-minded mayor was slow to get the easternmost borough of New York City dug out. But he was sure fast to find his way to Flushing to have his picture taken celebrating with the champions of the National League East, the National League and, finally the world. It’s said that association with New York’s baseball finest got him re-elected, making Mayor Lindsay the quintessential Met-glomming politician. Just over Shea Stadium’s left field fence, the Serval Zipper sign — the ultimate Met neighborhood landmark — was just thawing out from Lindsay’s neglect. Politicians have to pay the price for dissing Queens eventually. Serval unzips Hizzoner and looks to button up Mr. Met on Sunday.
Pete Rose (5) vs Ed Sudol (12)
No opposing player wore the mantle of Met Villain as long and as hard as Peter Edward Rose, not after his infamous brawl with Buddy Harrelson in the 1973 playoffs. No umpire wore the chest protector as long around the Mets as Ed Sudol, at least not in any given games. Sudol called balls and strikes and kept calling them in the Mets’ 23-, 24- and 25-inning losses in 1964, 1968 and 1974, respectively. In a test of endurance, just about every Mets fan still hates Pete Rose. Even Sudol — officiating left field after Rose trotted out to his position in Game Three — couldn’t eject that emotion. Rose fancies himself a winner, and in this case he’s correct.
1964 World’s Fair (4) vs Called Strike Three (13)
Of the countless third strikes taken by Mets batters in the franchise’s first 45 seasons, one looms over the rest: the very last one. Called Strike Three ended the 2006 National League Championship Series in a most unsatisfying fashion. In the mind’s eye, Carlos Beltran is still standing and looking at Adam Wainwright’s ungodly breaking pitch. The 1964 World’s Fair, which will forever be linked with Shea in the way Beltran and Wainwright are glued together…well, it was more fun than that. And baseball’s supposed to be fun. Fun carries the day here. We’ll see if Peace Through Understanding has any effect on the rambunctious Rose in their Sunday matchup.

Cinderella tried on her slippers, bracketbusters saw their shadows and the action was fast and furious on the first full day of March Metness Thursday. Sixteen games, four in each region, were played, setting the matchups for Saturday that will determine half of the Rick Sweet 16.
Friday will see the rest of the Don Aase round unfurl. But that’s for later. For now, here are Thursday’s results.

MIRACLE REGIONAL
Let’s Go Mets (1) vs Mercury Mets (16)
Let’s Go Mets was loud and strong from the start. It need only have cleared its throat. Mercury Mets thought the game took place in the future. Should there be a rematch in 2021, they’ll be ready. But not yet. Let’s Go Mets gave its fans everything to cheer about in a romp.
Sidd Finch (8) vs Mojo Risin’ (9)
Finch’s 168-MPH fastball had the ’99 Mets rallying cry in a slump right there toward the end, but George Plimpton’s creation proved a paper lion once Mojo rose for good. Mojo Risin’ takes on top-seeded Let’s Go Mets on Saturday.
Jane Jarvis (5) vs It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over (12)
As Yogi started sizing up the chances of his 1973 prognostication, he started to lose his way. And when Jane Jarvis tickled the Thomas Organ for a spry version of “The Mexican Hat Dance,” it was over.
Black Cat (4) vs Mike Vail (13)
The famous feline who spooked the ’69 Cubs into definitive freefall was a heavy favorite to take on the ultimate flash in the Met pan. But Vail hit his first 23 shots and the black cat got distracted and traded Rusty Staub. Those who had the four-legged creature going far in their brackets should have known better than to trust one of those damn things. Vail, the first upset winner in the 2007 March Metness tournament, will try to maintain his momentum against Jane Jarvis next.

MAGIC REGIONAL
The 7 Train (1) vs Cliffdweller (16)
Wes Westrum muttering about the latest one-run loss did not go over well, not with the 7 Train rumbling past. “Ohmigod, wasn’t that awful?” he commented before giving way to Salty Parker to finish the first-round defeat.
K Korner (8) vs In Ten Years… (9)
Dwight Gooden’s loyalists were looking good for the long-term, waving their strikeout signs in 1985. However, Casey Stengel’s pronouncement that, much like Greg Goossen, Doc was 20 and in ten years had a chance to be 30 proved to be prescient. Gooden was suspended from baseball for all of 1995. In Ten Years… waits only ’til the weekend for a showdown with the 7 Train.
Outta Here! (5) vs Basement Bertha (12)
Gary Cohen’s home run call is sure and true. Bill Gallo’s Met-loving character has seen better days. Many of them. She’s OUTTA HERE! The O.H. advances.
Grand Slam Single (4) vs Bleach (13)
Was there anything worse in the fetid summer of 1993 than Vince Coleman exploding firecrackers in a little girl’s direction in the Dodger Stadium parking lot while Bobby Bonilla cackled nearby? Probably not, but it was the appearance of a child’s toy water rifle filled with Clorox and directed at reporters by Bret Saberhagen that seemed to push the ’93 Mets clearly over the top as one of the worst assemblages of baseball-playing human beings ever. Or under the bottom, if you like. This representative misdeed from that dread-soaked season was seen as an upset candidate given what it had in common with the Grand Slam Single, namely that both the 1993 Mets and Robin Ventura quit running before they were supposed to. But in Ventura’s case, it was charming. Grand Slam Single shows down with its flagship voice Saturday for the right to go to the Rick Sweet 16.

BELIEVE REGIONAL
Shoe Polish Ball (6) vs Cow-Bell Man (11)
Not only did Gil Hodges come out of the dugout to convince umpire Lou DiMuro of the righteousness of his protest that Dave McNally’s pitch indeed glanced off Cleon Jones’ shoe, but he was able to have the Cow-Bell Man sit down for an entire inning, thus allowing patrons in the mezzanine to enjoy part of a game unimpeded by his self-styled cheerleading. Shoe Polish Ball rolls on in unhyphenated fashion.
The Franchise (3) vs Lazy Mary (14)
A potential singalong showdown was short-circuited when the best nickname in Mets history stepped out of the dugout and waved its cap to an adoring throng in the seventh-inning stretch, The Franchise making everybody forget about Lazy Mary before the lyrics went from Italian to English. Tom Seaver’s grandest and most appropriate identity tangles Saturday with the Shoe Polish Ball.
Baseball Like It Oughta Be (7) vs The Worst Team Money Could Buy (10)
The Mets’ most forceful slogan was determined to outlast the chronicle of their most shameful season. All the money in the world can’t buy what oughta be. It couldn’t even buy 71 wins. Bob Klapisch and John Harper wrote a helluva book, but they go down to an ad man’s brevity.
Meet The Mets (2) vs 40-120 (15)
When the world met the Mets, they posted the worst yet most memorable record in team history. It still stands. As does another memorable record, no matter how often it is desecrated by new versions. Sadly, you can only meet the 1962 Mets for so long before the .250 winning percentage gets to you. Playing to a 40-120 level got the ’62 club eliminated in August. Meet The Mets plays on against Baseball Like It Oughta Be come Saturday.

AMAZIN’ REGIONAL
Kahn’s Hot Dogs (6) vs Jack Lang (11)
The quintessential Shea Stadium food item versus the quintessential Mets beat writer. Mr. Lang passed away earlier this year, but even if this original Met scribe were still pounding out those ledes, it would cost less to buy his paper than it would to buy a hot dog at Shea. Kahn’s already lost the concession to Nathan’s. Now it loses to Lang.
Kiner’s Korner (3) vs Tomatoes In The Bullpen (14)
Two venerable stalwarts of the Shea scene in the spotlight here. The tomatoes grew for many years over the right field fence under the loving care of bullpen coach Joe Pignatano. Kiner, meanwhile, became famous for what he did under the stadium after the game. The tomatoes continued to blossom even as Ralph’s show faded from view. But then Kiner’s Korner returned for a couple of campaigns. The tomatoes haven’t been seen lately. But Ralph has. It was surprisingly close for a 3-vs-14 contest, but Kiner’s Korner proved the slightly hardier perennial. It will be Jack Lang and Kiner’s Korner in a Saturday faceoff. The winner will interview the star of the game.
The Odd Couple (7) vs Jimmy Qualls (10)
Oscar Madison covered Mets games and wore Mets caps in the movies and on television. In between, Jimmy Qualls broke Mets hearts. Madison missed a triple play. Qualls made Tom Seaver miss a perfect game. He is a symbol of the no-hitter that got away, the holiest of holy grails in all of Metsdom. The Odd Couple series was as New York as it got in the 1970s, but alas, it — unlike its cinematic forebear — was filmed on a Hollywood soundstage. Qualls, ironically, does what ’69 Cub Antichrist The Black Cat couldn’t: survive and advance.
Buckner (2) vs Dairylea (15)
There was time when clipping coupons off of Dairylea milk cartons could earn you free passes for the Mets. Bill Buckner, however, provided the ultimate get out of jail card for the Mets. Thus, it’s a battle of ex-Cubs, Buckner and Qualls, on Saturday, albeit partially by way of Boston gray.