The silver shovels have been lowered and raised, the symbolic dirt has been flung, the pols have grinned, the hands have been gripped, Mets on Apparent Permanent Retainer Reyes and Wright and Maine have smiled for the cameras (somebody let these guys go home!), and the new place has a name.

And not a bad name, to my mind.

CitiField. Well, OK, it is a field in a city. As my co-blogger notes, could have been worse. Could have been a lot worse. CitiField is far better than all the parks named after drinks and dot-coms and telephones and cellphones. Just imagine Banco Popular Stadium or Nymex Field or the Donald Field at Trump Meadows. Heck, the Arizona Cardinals had to fend off a restaurant chain that wanted to name their park Pink Taco Stadium. Yes really. How would that one have sat with us?

Should it have not had a corporate name at all? Maybe. But for better or for worse, this is the modern world: For all but a very few parks, a corporate moniker is practically the law of physics, and the parks that are exceptions have a history and character that not even Shea's most-avid partisans could claim for it. No one who hasn't been huffing paint thinner would ever call Shea a lyric little bandbox, or refer to its friendly confines. The Yankees, actually, are an exception to the exception: They play in a park made pedestrian by a bad makeover, yet still couldn't get away with a corporate name. So be it — let their mystique and aura and all that cost them a little money for a change. Besides, you just know they'll make up the difference by unveiling the Enterprise Rent-a-Car Captain Derek Jeter Intangibles Celebrity Pavilion and the Red Envelope Twenty-six Rings Baby Parking Complex, or similar atrocities that will test my co-blogger's newfound calm.

Jackie Robinson Field? It would have been disappointing if the Mets had reached back to Ebbets Field with only an architectural salute. But I think they did enough — and Rachel Robinson, hardly a shrinking violet at 84, said she was satisfied. For Jackie Robinson and Arthur Ashe to face off across the 7 tracks would have been satisfying, no argument there. And if the Mets played in Brooklyn (as I once dreamed they might), I'd campaign loudly for the idea. I saw 42 put on the outfield wall on a frozen night. I live just blocks from a plaque on the site of the old Dodger offices, commemorating where Branch Rickey and Robinson inked his big-league deal. It's a plaque facing a big, empty street corner that could use a statue to join the one outside Keyspan and the one that will be in the CitiField rotunda. But that's another post. For now, in my book, the Mets did enough.

As for those certain-to-heard taunts of ShitiField? Ha. I'm not worried. Because let's face it: That's where we play now.

I have many, many cherished memories of things that happened at Shea. Ordonez's debut. The Mets' last fight. Piazza's first game. The 10-run inning. Clontz's wild pitch. Pratt hitting it over the fence. The Grand Slam Single. Agbayani's dinger. Bobby Jones flirting with perfection. Timo jumping up to make the pennant arrive more quickly. Piazza's last game. The 2006 clincher. John Maine's season-extender. And those are just some of the big ones. I have many, many cherished memories of seeing these things that happened at Shea with people who are dear to me: my wife, my little boy, my good friend and co-blogger, my fellow travelers in orange and blue, my pals just along for a day's ride.

But these things, these memories, are not Shea itself.

That, sadly, is something else. It's broken seats and sticky concrete and bathroom lakes and escalators that don't work on Opening Day and a general, grinding crappiness that wears you down. ShitiField, in other words. And I'm ready for an end to it.

This new park? It may not be your thing if you think the retro ballparks with their bricks and their trusses have run their course. I harbor no fantasy that the decrepit ushers and lemon-pussed security guards and Aramark drones will show up for their first day of work with attitude transplants. Our park being our park, the contests on the videoboard will be a mix of illogical and insultingly easy, we'll be shown Rangers-Royals highlights, and several Met-related facts will be incorrect. But the park itself won't be shitty, if only because it'll be a modern ballpark, with all the seats actually facing the field and the action visible while getting concessions and a host of other little things other fans have been able to take for granted for years. I can't wait.

And that corporate moniker comes with a not-to-be-overlooked bonus. Twenty million dollars a year, every year. Money for a Carlos Beltran-level free agent, every year for a generation. That in itself is no guarantee of anything — Al Harazin and Jeff Torborg could have come in last with it — but it's awfully nice to have working in your favor when free agents come to visit and the draft pick you want has hired Scott Boras and the deadline deals come with contracts needing to be restructured. Does it risk turning us into the Yankees? We don't like to admit this, but to outsiders we already are. Closer to home, we've got a shortstop and third baseman who play this game with such joy you want to laugh out loud, and they've got a shortstop and third baseman who seethe and plot against each other like they're putting on some pinstriped version of “Heathers.” I'm not the slightest bit worried about us turning into them.

CitiField and SNY filling the coffers, Wright and Reyes wearing the colors. I've got a name for it: The Golden Age. Let's get it started.

Could have they come up with a worse name?
Yes. Absolutely. Examples are abundant.
Safeco Field. Petco Park. McAfee Coliseum. Yadier Molina Memorial Stadium (though I am partial to the memorial aspect).
It could have been worse. That's the best I can say for CitiField, future home of your New York Mets, at this early date. I've been living with it for 24 hours — practicing it, imagining it, mulling it and wow, it gets less likable every time I say it.
CitiField.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to CitiField.
The Mets return home tonight to open a three-game set with the Cubs at CitiField.
We go live to Bruce Beck out at CitiField for more.
And at CitiField, the Mets topped the Phillies 3-2 on a Carlos Beltran home run.
Good news for the CitiField faithful.
It's going to be an exciting weekend at CitiField.
No, stay on the 7 and get off at the CitiField stop.
I'll just meet you at CitiField, OK?
This is going to take some time. I suppose we'll have plenty of it.
Reminder: The final piece of the 2006 retrospective, conveniently touching on a very related subject, is lumbering around third in Ramon Castro fashion, but will arrive soon.

Could have they come up with a worse name?

Yes. Absolutely. Examples are abundant.

Safeco Field. Petco Park. McAfee Coliseum. Yadier Molina Memorial Stadium (though I am partial to the memorial aspect).

It could have been worse. That's the best I can say for CitiField, future home of your New York Mets, at this early date. I've been living with it for 24 hours — practicing it, imagining it, mulling it and wow, it gets less likable every time I say it.

CitiField.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to CitiField.

The Mets return home tonight to open a three-game set with the Cubs at CitiField.

We go live to Bruce Beck out at CitiField for more.

And at CitiField, the Mets topped the Phillies 3-2 on a Carlos Beltran home run.

Good news for the CitiField faithful.

It's going to be an exciting weekend at CitiField.

No, stay on the 7 and get off at the CitiField stop.

I'll just meet you at CitiField, OK?

This is going to take some time. I suppose we'll have plenty of it.

Reminder: The final piece of the 2006 retrospective, conveniently touching on a very related subject, is lumbering around third in Ramon Castro fashion, but will arrive soon.

“Hey Greg.”
“Yeah?”
“Who's got the rings?”
“Huh?”
“The rings, baby? THE RINGS!”
“You mean like ringtones on a cell phone?”
“C'mon! You know what I mean.”
“I give up. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I'll give you a hint: 26!”
“26 what?”
“26 rings BABY!”
“I worked as a telemarketer in college and we were instructed to hang up after five rings.”
“That's not what I'm talking about and you know it!”
“Honestly, Yankee Hegemony, I'm busy doing other things and haven't the vaguest idea what you're talking about.”
“Damn Greg! I'm talking about World Series rings!”
“Oh.”
“That's right, 'oh,' as in 'oh, who's got THE RINGS, baby?'”
“The Cardinals, I guess.”
“No way!”
“Not yet, I suppose. I'm not crazy about it, but they're due to get them on Opening Day.”
“I'm not talking about the Cardinals!”
“Fine with me.”
“Think harder, baby. Who's got THE RINGS?”
“Well, the most recent recipients would be the White Sox. They won the World Series before the Cardinals did.”
“Stop it!”
“Stop what? You're the one who asked me, YH.”
“C'mon. I said 26 rings! And I'm not talking about the phone.”
“Uh…26…Kingman? Brogna? El Duque?”
“NOW you're getting warm.”
“What, El Duque? He wore 26 for the Mets last year. So?”
“Yeah…and who did El Duque win a WORLD SERIES RING with?”
“The White Sox. Pitched really well for them in 2005. Are we through?”
“DAMN! WHY WON'T YOU ACKNOWLEDGE ME?”
“I'm answering your questions as best I can, YH. I'm just not seeing your point.”
“You're playing with me.”
“I'm not playing with anybody. It's November. I'm looking forward to the Mets playing in April, but that's a long way off, so mostly I'm replaying the Mets' season in my head and thinking of the stuff that really mattered and the stuff that I've come to realize doesn't matter much at all.”
“HA!”
“What do you mean 'ha!'?”
“The Mets suck!”
“How do you figure?”
“Mets suck!”
“That's not an answer.”
“TWENTY-SIX RINGS BABY! METS SUCK!”
“I'm not following.”
“GREG!”
“Why are you yelling at me?”
“You're frustrating me!”
“How so?”
“Aw, you know why.”
“Seriously, I don't.”
“Man, you used to be easy for me to rile up. I'd go on about how great I was and how much the Mets sucked and it would preoccupy your thoughts for weeks. Months sometimes. Now I'm getting nothing out of you. Nothing!”
“I'm sorry, YH. It's just that after 2006, a visit from Yankee Hegemony is…how should I put this?”
“Overwhelming?”
“No…”
“Upsetting?”
“No…”
“Intimidating?”
“No, that's not it either.”
“Then what?”
“Oh, I know! Irrelevant.”
“IRRELEVANT? ME? HOW DARE YOU? I'M YANKEE HEGEMONY!”
“Look, I want to be polite…”
“Mets suck!”
“You can do that all you want…”
“METS SUCK!”
“…but you're not going to bother me.”
“Aw, why not?”
“Because you don't bother me anymore.”
“I don't?”
“No.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“Not in the least.”
“Why the hell not?”
“YH, have you taken a good look around lately?”
“Twenty-six-time WORLD CHAMPIONS!”
“Uh-huh. And when was the last time you got yourself one of those world championships?”
“Um…”
“I'll tell you. 2000.”
“Beat the Mets…who SUCK!”
“Yes, the Yankees beat the Mets in the 2000 World Series. A given. Congratulations.”
“HA!”
“But YH, do you know what season we're coming up on?”
“Um…”
“Don't strain yourself. It's about to be 2007. Subtract that from 2000 and you've got seven years.”
“So?”
“That's seven years since the Yankees' last world championship.”
“So?”
“So it means the Yankees…how can I break this to you? The Yankees don't matter.”
“TWEN…”
“Stop it. Give me something more recent.”
“Um…”
“I'll even help you. American…League…”
“CHAMPION!”
“Close. American…League…East…”
“CHAMPION!”
“Way to go. You're the American League East champion.”
“Yeah! And…hey, wait a minute! That's not that impressive-sounding.”
“It's all right. I mean you beat out the Blue Jays. That's something to be proud of.”
“No it isn't. That sucks!”
“Suit yourself. I thought you guys had a pretty good year.”
“Yeah, we did! BEST LINEUP IN BASEBALL HISTORY!”
“If you say so. How did that best lineup in baseball history do in the postseason?”
“Um…”
“You guys are always going on about how important the postseason is, how nothing matters but…what were you talking about when you came in?”
“The rings.”
“Yeah, that was it. Did that best lineup in baseball history get you any rings?”
“Um…yes?”
“YH…”
“No?”
“No, you guys lost to the Tigers.”
“THE TIGERS SUCK!”
“They do?”
“They don't?”
“Well, they beat you.”
“Oh.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Greg?”
“Yeah, YH?”
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
“Why aren't you more excited?”
“Whaddaya mean?”
“Well, the Yankees lost.”
“Yeah, I know. I just told you that.”
“That's a big deal.”
“It's OK.”
“What do you mean, OK? You live for that!”
“I used to.”
“You USED to?”
“Oh, don't get me wrong. I still enjoy it. But it's not the be-all, end-all of baseball for me anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing, you guys haven't won in so long, the novelty of your losing has worn off.”
“But the Yankees are the Yankees!”
“Yes, but the Mets are the Mets.”
“The Mets su…”
“Let me stop you there. The Mets don't suck. The Mets won 97 games and the National League Eastern Division title.”
“Hey, that's no more than the Yankees!”
“Yeah, but we don't beat ourselves up over such things.”
“No?”
“No. Also, we won our first-round series against the Dodgers, the same one you lost to the Tigers.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. Got a whole lot closer to the World Series, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. So you can see I've got better things to think about than you.”
“But you still hate us, right?”
“Oh, that'll never change.”
“It's because we're so great!”
“No, I just dislike the fact that you exist, but I've always felt that way, even when the Mets were far better.”
“That's never happened!”
“You don't think so?”
“The Yankees are the greatest team ever and win every year…except for last year.”
“And the year before that.”
“And that one.”
“And 2004.”
“Ouch.”
“And 2003.”
“Stop.”
“And 2002.”
“Cut it out!”
“And 2001.”
“AAUUGGHH!”
“Sorry. I forgot how sensitive you can be.”
“But the Mets have always been second to the Yankees.”
“YH, you know that's not true.”
“It's not?”
“No, of course not. The Mets have enjoyed long stretches of being more popular and better than the Yankees.”
“LIES! LIES!”
“You can look it up. The Mets outdrew the Yankees as a matter of course in the '60s and the first half of the '70s and most of the '80s and into the early '90s.”
“They didn't say that on YES.”
“They don't say everything on YES.”
“Yeah, but you're talking about a long time ago! The Yankees have owned New York since 1996!”
“I won't argue the distant past with you. 1996 was a big year for you guys and, yes, you had the upper hand for quite a while.”
“HA!”
“But that's changing.”
“IS NOT!”
“No, it is.”
“IS NOT!”
“Seriously, it is.”
“It is?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know?”
“Oh, the little things. You guys have deep pockets and can sign all kinds of free agents…”
“Yeah! We're gonna get the Japanese pitcher!”
“Probably not.”
“And Zito! And Soriano! And…”
“Maybe you will.”
“HA!”
“But let me ask you this, YH: What difference will it make?”
“Huh?”
“Every winter, the Yankees grab some superhyped free agent and you just get further and further from winning the World Series.”
“That doesn't make any sense.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But I've watched Mussina, Giambi, Matsui, Sheffield, Rodriguez, Johnson and Damon come in, and nothing changes.”
“No, I suppose it doesn't. But we have Jeter!”
“Uh-huh.”
“What do you mean, 'uh-huh'? He's JETER!”
“Yeah?”
“He's awesome!”
“If you say so.”
“Of course I do! HE'S JETER! Haven't you seen his ten-part Yankeeography?”
“I missed it, but I did see something interesting a few weeks ago.”
“What? There's an eleventh part?”
“No, it was a discussion on another channel about this whole tired Jeter-Rodriguez thing…”
“A-Rod kind of sucks, actually.”
“Whatever. Anyway, it was three sportswriters and a broadcaster and they were blaming Jeter for not drawing Rodriguez out of his shell or something and one of the panelists said he watched Jose Reyes fire up his teammates during the playoffs and they all agreed Reyes seemed to be the better teammate.”
“But Derek Jeter's Derek Jeter!”
“I don't doubt that's true. But when the conventional wisdom begins to seep away, bit by bit, when the media starts to turn away from its old truths and finally discovers new ones, I think it means things are changing.”
“What's changing?”
“We're gonna enter next year with two New York baseball teams on at least equal footing.”
“Yankees and Mets?”
“Actually, I'm thinking Mets and Yankees. More than it's been since before 1996, people are going to be saying it that way.”
“Is that allowed?”
“YH, I think it is.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding. The Mets will be getting at least half the attention. Probably more.”
“Really?”
“I'm only basing it on recent success, present appeal and future promise.”
“And the Mets have all that going for them?”
“Appears so.”
“Is it guaranteed?”
“Nothing's guaranteed. Things could go terribly wrong for the Mets and go very well for the Yankees and I'll be back to sulking and schadenfreude.”
“Told ya!”
“But really, it doesn't look like that's going to happen. The Mets have the two shiningest stars in New York, maybe in all of baseball.”
“Who?”
“Reyes and Wright.”
“We got Jeter!”
“Old news. You watch. The ass-kissing will ease at last.”
“But I count on that ass-kissing to inflate my self-esteem.”
“I know. You've still got John Sterling, though.”
“Y'know, Greg, it's not like the Yankees suck, I mean really suck like the Devil Rays.”
“No, not at all. You guys are going to have your following and get your wins. I acknowledge that.”
“And that doesn't bother you?”
“Every time the Yankees score a run, it annoys me, but they're so far down my list of baseball priorities that I don't give them much thought.”
“Are you sure? You got pretty worked up during the last Subway Series.”
“Those are rivalry games. I'm sure Michigan and Ohio State get all hot and bothered against each other even when one or the other isn't doing all that well. So, yeah, for six days next season I will hate the Yankees with all the passion I can muster.”
“I knew it!”
“I'll also hate the Phillies 19 times and the Braves 19 times and so on.”
“But we're the Yankees!”
“Thing is I used to look around and see people wearing your stuff — which I don't see as much anymore, by the way — and it used to get on my nerves.”
“Yeah!”
“Since the playoffs, however, it doesn't really.”
“No?”
“I see a Yankee cap and it's just, 'oh, another team.' For that matter, I see a Mets cap and it doesn't feel unusual the way it did even in '99 and 2000 when we were the lost tribe in our city despite how much we were accomplishing.”
“Good times.”
“Now I'm pretty sure we're here to stay.”
“Yeah, well…how many RINGS you got?”
“I don't want to go around in circles — or rings — about this. Let's just say you're not bringing anything of substance to the table at this point.”
“I'm not?”
“You're supposed to be Yankee Hegemony, but you don't win the World Series anymore, your so-called superstars are either not as good as they used to be or were never that great to begin with and you pose no credible threat to my happiness. You're just hard to take seriously now.”
“You don't care about me at all?”
“I don't like you, but you're not really worth my time anymore. My team got right near the top in 2006 and I want to see them get all the way up there in 2007. I'm going to be concentrating on that for a while. A lot of us are. For quite a while.”
“That's it?”
“Yeah. You can go now. You're through.”
“Greg, do you think for old time's sake, that maybe you could…”
“YH…”
“Please? It makes me feel like the big deal I used to be.”
“Very well. Ready?”
“Ready!”
“OK, here goes: Yankees suck.”
“YEAH BABY!”
Up next from 2006: Touching home.

“Hey Greg.”

“Yeah?”

“Who's got the rings?”

“Huh?”

“The rings, baby? THE RINGS!”

“You mean like ringtones on a cell phone?”

“C'mon! You know what I mean.”

“I give up. What the hell are you talking about?”

“I'll give you a hint: 26!”

“26 what?”

“26 rings BABY!”

“I worked as a telemarketer in college and we were instructed to hang up after five rings.”

“That's not what I'm talking about and you know it!”

“Honestly, Yankee Hegemony, I'm busy doing other things and haven't the vaguest idea what you're talking about.”

“Damn Greg! I'm talking about World Series rings!”

“Oh.”

“That's right, 'oh,' as in 'oh, who's got THE RINGS, baby?'”

“The Cardinals, I guess.”

“No way!”

“Not yet, I suppose. I'm not crazy about it, but they're due to get them on Opening Day.”

“I'm not talking about the Cardinals!”

“Fine with me.”

“Think harder, baby. Who's got THE RINGS?”

“Well, the most recent recipients would be the White Sox. They won the World Series before the Cardinals did.”

“Stop it!”

“Stop what? You're the one who asked me, YH.”

“C'mon. I said 26 rings! And I'm not talking about the phone.”

“Uh…26…Kingman? Brogna? El Duque?”

“NOW you're getting warm.”

“What, El Duque? He wore 26 for the Mets last year. So?”

“Yeah…and who did El Duque win a WORLD SERIES RING with?”

“The White Sox. Pitched really well for them in 2005. Are we through?”

“DAMN! WHY WON'T YOU ACKNOWLEDGE ME?”

“I'm answering your questions as best I can, YH. I'm just not seeing your point.”

“You're playing with me.”

“I'm not playing with anybody. It's November. I'm looking forward to the Mets playing in April, but that's a long way off, so mostly I'm replaying the Mets' season in my head and thinking of the stuff that really mattered and the stuff that I've come to realize doesn't matter much at all.”

“HA!”

“What do you mean 'ha!'?”

“The Mets suck!”

“How do you figure?”

“Mets suck!”

“That's not an answer.”

“TWENTY-SIX RINGS BABY! METS SUCK!”

“I'm not following.”

“GREG!”

“Why are you yelling at me?”

“You're frustrating me!”

“How so?”

“Aw, you know why.”

“Seriously, I don't.”

“Man, you used to be easy for me to rile up. I'd go on about how great I was and how much the Mets sucked and it would preoccupy your thoughts for weeks. Months sometimes. Now I'm getting nothing out of you. Nothing!”

“I'm sorry, YH. It's just that after 2006, a visit from Yankee Hegemony is…how should I put this?”

“Overwhelming?”

“No…”

“Upsetting?”

“No…”

“Intimidating?”

“No, that's not it either.”

“Then what?”

“Oh, I know! Irrelevant.”

“IRRELEVANT? ME? HOW DARE YOU? I'M YANKEE HEGEMONY!”

“Look, I want to be polite…”

“Mets suck!”

“You can do that all you want…”

“METS SUCK!”

“…but you're not going to bother me.”

“Aw, why not?”

“Because you don't bother me anymore.”

“I don't?”

“No.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Not in the least.”

“Why the hell not?”

“YH, have you taken a good look around lately?”

“Twenty-six-time WORLD CHAMPIONS!”

“Uh-huh. And when was the last time you got yourself one of those world championships?”

“Um…”

“I'll tell you. 2000.”

“Beat the Mets…who SUCK!”

“Yes, the Yankees beat the Mets in the 2000 World Series. A given. Congratulations.”

“HA!”

“But YH, do you know what season we're coming up on?”

“Um…”

“Don't strain yourself. It's about to be 2007. Subtract that from 2000 and you've got seven years.”

“So?”

“That's seven years since the Yankees' last world championship.”

“So?”

“So it means the Yankees…how can I break this to you? The Yankees don't matter.”

“TWEN…”

“Stop it. Give me something more recent.”

“Um…”

“I'll even help you. American…League…”

“CHAMPION!”

“Close. American…League…East…”

“CHAMPION!”

“Way to go. You're the American League East champion.”

“Yeah! And…hey, wait a minute! That's not that impressive-sounding.”

“It's all right. I mean you beat out the Blue Jays. That's something to be proud of.”

“No it isn't. That sucks!”

“Suit yourself. I thought you guys had a pretty good year.”

“Yeah, we did! BEST LINEUP IN BASEBALL HISTORY!”

“If you say so. How did that best lineup in baseball history do in the postseason?”

“Um…”

“You guys are always going on about how important the postseason is, how nothing matters but…what were you talking about when you came in?”

“The rings.”

“Yeah, that was it. Did that best lineup in baseball history get you any rings?”

“Um…yes?”

“YH…”

“No?”

“No, you guys lost to the Tigers.”

“THE TIGERS SUCK!”

“They do?”

“They don't?”

“Well, they beat you.”

“Oh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Greg?”

“Yeah, YH?”

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure.”

“Why aren't you more excited?”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Well, the Yankees lost.”

“Yeah, I know. I just told you that.”

“That's a big deal.”

“It's OK.”

“What do you mean, OK? You live for that!”

“I used to.”

“You USED to?”

“Oh, don't get me wrong. I still enjoy it. But it's not the be-all, end-all of baseball for me anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, you guys haven't won in so long, the novelty of your losing has worn off.”

“But the Yankees are the Yankees!”

“Yes, but the Mets are the Mets.”

“The Mets su…”

“Let me stop you there. The Mets don't suck. The Mets won 97 games and the National League Eastern Division title.”

“Hey, that's no more than the Yankees!”

“Yeah, but we don't beat ourselves up over such things.”

“No?”

“No. Also, we won our first-round series against the Dodgers, the same one you lost to the Tigers.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Got a whole lot closer to the World Series, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. So you can see I've got better things to think about than you.”

“But you still hate us, right?”

“Oh, that'll never change.”

“It's because we're so great!”

“No, I just dislike the fact that you exist, but I've always felt that way, even when the Mets were far better.”

“That's never happened!”

“You don't think so?”

“The Yankees are the greatest team ever and win every year…except for last year.”

“And the year before that.”

“And that one.”

“And 2004.”

“Ouch.”

“And 2003.”

“Stop.”

“And 2002.”

“Cut it out!”

“And 2001.”

“AAUUGGHH!”

“Sorry. I forgot how sensitive you can be.”

“But the Mets have always been second to the Yankees.”

“YH, you know that's not true.”

“It's not?”

“No, of course not. The Mets have enjoyed long stretches of being more popular and better than the Yankees.”

“LIES! LIES!”

“You can look it up. The Mets outdrew the Yankees as a matter of course in the '60s and the first half of the '70s and most of the '80s and into the early '90s.”

“They didn't say that on YES.”

“They don't say everything on YES.”

“Yeah, but you're talking about a long time ago! The Yankees have owned New York since 1996!”

“I won't argue the distant past with you. 1996 was a big year for you guys and, yes, you had the upper hand for quite a while.”

“HA!”

“But that's changing.”

“IS NOT!”

“No, it is.”

“IS NOT!”

“Seriously, it is.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know?”

“Oh, the little things. You guys have deep pockets and can sign all kinds of free agents…”

“Yeah! We're gonna get the Japanese pitcher!”

“Probably not.”

“And Zito! And Soriano! And…”

“Maybe you will.”

“HA!”

“But let me ask you this, YH: What difference will it make?”

“Huh?”

“Every winter, the Yankees grab some superhyped free agent and you just get further and further from winning the World Series.”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I've watched Mussina, Giambi, Matsui, Sheffield, Rodriguez, Johnson and Damon come in, and nothing changes.”

“No, I suppose it doesn't. But we have Jeter!”

“Uh-huh.”

“What do you mean, 'uh-huh'? He's JETER!”

“Yeah?”

“He's awesome!”

“If you say so.”

“Of course I do! HE'S JETER! Haven't you seen his ten-part Yankeeography?”

“I missed it, but I did see something interesting a few weeks ago.”

“What? There's an eleventh part?”

“No, it was a discussion on another channel about this whole tired Jeter-Rodriguez thing…”

“A-Rod kind of sucks, actually.”

“Whatever. Anyway, it was three sportswriters and a broadcaster and they were blaming Jeter for not drawing Rodriguez out of his shell or something and one of the panelists said he watched Jose Reyes fire up his teammates during the playoffs and they all agreed Reyes seemed to be the better teammate.”

“But Derek Jeter's Derek Jeter!”

“I don't doubt that's true. But when the conventional wisdom begins to seep away, bit by bit, when the media starts to turn away from its old truths and finally discovers new ones, I think it means things are changing.”

“What's changing?”

“We're gonna enter next year with two New York baseball teams on at least equal footing.”

“Yankees and Mets?”

“Actually, I'm thinking Mets and Yankees. More than it's been since before 1996, people are going to be saying it that way.”

“Is that allowed?”

“YH, I think it is.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding. The Mets will be getting at least half the attention. Probably more.”

“Really?”

“I'm only basing it on recent success, present appeal and future promise.”

“And the Mets have all that going for them?”

“Appears so.”

“Is it guaranteed?”

“Nothing's guaranteed. Things could go terribly wrong for the Mets and go very well for the Yankees and I'll be back to sulking and schadenfreude.”

“Told ya!”

“But really, it doesn't look like that's going to happen. The Mets have the two shiningest stars in New York, maybe in all of baseball.”

“Who?”

“Reyes and Wright.”

“We got Jeter!”

“Old news. You watch. The ass-kissing will ease at last.”

“But I count on that ass-kissing to inflate my self-esteem.”

“I know. You've still got John Sterling, though.”

“Y'know, Greg, it's not like the Yankees suck, I mean really suck like the Devil Rays.”

“No, not at all. You guys are going to have your following and get your wins. I acknowledge that.”

“And that doesn't bother you?”

“Every time the Yankees score a run, it annoys me, but they're so far down my list of baseball priorities that I don't give them much thought.”

“Are you sure? You got pretty worked up during the last Subway Series.”

“Those are rivalry games. I'm sure Michigan and Ohio State get all hot and bothered against each other even when one or the other isn't doing all that well. So, yeah, for six days next season I will hate the Yankees with all the passion I can muster.”

“I knew it!”

“I'll also hate the Phillies 19 times and the Braves 19 times and so on.”

“But we're the Yankees!”

“Thing is I used to look around and see people wearing your stuff — which I don't see as much anymore, by the way — and it used to get on my nerves.”

“Yeah!”

“Since the playoffs, however, it doesn't really.”

“No?”

“I see a Yankee cap and it's just, 'oh, another team.' For that matter, I see a Mets cap and it doesn't feel unusual the way it did even in '99 and 2000 when we were the lost tribe in our city despite how much we were accomplishing.”

“Good times.”

“Now I'm pretty sure we're here to stay.”

“Yeah, well…how many RINGS you got?”

“I don't want to go around in circles — or rings — about this. Let's just say you're not bringing anything of substance to the table at this point.”

“I'm not?”

“You're supposed to be Yankee Hegemony, but you don't win the World Series anymore, your so-called superstars are either not as good as they used to be or were never that great to begin with and you pose no credible threat to my happiness. You're just hard to take seriously now.”

“You don't care about me at all?”

“I don't like you, but you're not really worth my time anymore. My team got right near the top in 2006 and I want to see them get all the way up there in 2007. I'm going to be concentrating on that for a while. A lot of us are. For quite a while.”

“That's it?”

“Yeah. You can go now. You're through.”

“Greg, do you think for old time's sake, that maybe you could…”

“YH…”

“Please? It makes me feel like the big deal I used to be.”

“Very well. Ready?”

“Ready!”

“OK, here goes: Yankees suck.”

“YEAH BABY!”

Up next from 2006: Touching home.

We didn't have any great, great superstar players where one guy got all the shots. It wasn't that kind of a team.
—Willis Reed to Dennis D'Agostino, “Garden Glory“
My earliest, most serious sports allegiances were to the 1969 Mets and the 1969-70 Knicks, both champions in the making. I haven't stopped since '69 where the Mets are concerned but I was never again the Knicks fan I was at ages 6 and 7. I can't say I'm a Knicks fan at all these days. Haven't been remotely enthusiastic about them for more than a decade.
Why? Lots of reasons, but the one that comes back to me now is I was spoiled at an early age. Not so much by the success but by the personalities. My introduction to basketball was Willis Reed, Walt Frazier, Dave DeBusschere, Bill Bradley and Dick Barnett. The starting five. After your first exposure to something comes at its highest, most sublime level, maybe everything that follows is bound to disappoint.
I can still see and hear those Knicks. My parents were huge fans and holders of season tickets not that many rows from the floor. When they weren't at the Garden, they had the radio on and we'd listen to home games during dinner via Marv Albert on WNBC. If the Knicks were on the road, we'd watch on Channel 9. It was an article of faith in our house that Willis was exactly what his title said he was, The Captain; that Clyde was one cool customer; that Dave The Butcher (which is what I could swear they were calling him on TV) was tougher than Gus Johnson; that Dollar Bill was brilliant; that quiet Dick Barnett with his “fall back, baby” jump shot was every bit as important as his more celebrated teammates.
Every week the Post printed a list of the league scoring leaders. There never seemed to be any Knicks at the top of it. I once asked my father about it, and he explained it was because Red Holzman didn't want any of them to score all that much. He wants them each to pass the ball, to play smart, to hit the open man, to keep everybody involved, to play as a team on offense and to get back on defense. If the players wanted to, he said, they were each capable of scoring 30 points a game.
The math as processed by my unnuanced, six-year-old way of looking at things — five guys each scoring 30 points every night would mean the Knicks would have 150 points in the bank — didn't add up to anything bad, but whatever Red was doing was working. The Knicks of Reed, Frazier, DeBusschere, Bradley and Barnett started the year 5-0, lost to the San Francisco Warriors and then won their next eighteen, an NBA record. They were 23-1 in a blink. If none of them scored as much as that Al Cinder guy from Milwaukee everybody made such a big deal about (turned out his name was Lew Alcindor and he would eventually become Kareem Abdul-Jabbar), it didn't matter. They won together.
Neither basketball nor the Knicks ever captured my fancy the way it did the first time around, but I still revere that starting five to a degree that remains almost unmatched in my affections. If I love how much larger than life the '86 Mets were (and I do), it was the way the '70 Knicks were perfectly lifesized — one inch equaled one inch — that stays with me to this day.
I don't know that I'd seen anything like them until now. But now I have.
The first five batters of the 2006 Mets composed a unit within a unit that I'd imagine has set an unreasonably high standard for Mets fans who have just taken their first steps on the orange and blue brick road. As marvelous as the entire team effort was, in the same sense that those champion Knicks needed the Minutemen contributions of Cazzie Russell, Dave Stallworth and Mike Riordan (and even backup center Nate Bowman whom my mother dismissed as if he were a proto-Danny Heep), the 2006 Mets were defined in black ink by those who hit first through fifth most every night.
Isn't every good baseball team, though? I suppose. You can't talk about 1986 without Dykstra, Backman, Hernandez, Carter and Straw, right? No, you can't. But Lenny and Wally were often spelled by Mookie and Teufel, and Ray Knight batted sixth and there was some very impressive pitching mixed in there. The '69 Mets were a platoonist's dream. Even the '99 Mets, who crafted their own ideal top of the order with Rickey, Fonzie, Oly, Mike and Robin, had everybody from Orel Hershiser to Pat Mahomes to Shawon Dunston saving their bacon when the pressure was on.
This past year was absolutely a team effort as well. That wasn't just lip service paid to Greatest 2006 Mets Nos. 49 through 6. Glavine was important. Chavez was crucial. Pedro was Pedro. You could argue that Wagner, Sanchez and Heilman comprised the firewall that maintained the sanctity of the fortress. I wouldn't argue against the bullpen as an MVP candidate unto itself.
Yet who was irreplaceable? No starter stayed healthy for the duration. Duaner gave way to Guillermo. And Endy…Endy was great. We don't win as much as we did without Endy. Or Valentin. Or, believe it or don't, Trachsel.
Ah, but the Top Five was really the Top Five on this team. When I think of the Knicks of my childhood, I don't immediately think of Dave Stallworth, y'know? So when I think of the Mets who were the Mets as I settled into middle age, the first five guys who come to mind will be the first five guys on Willie Randolph's lineup card.
2006 was 2006 because somewhere within the first twenty minutes of any given game, depending on the site, Jose Reyes strode to the pate, Paul Lo Duca loosened in the on-deck circle, Carlos Beltran waited in the hole, Carlos Delgado hung around the bat rack and David Wright took practice swings. Those actions right there…that's why we had the kind of year we had.
Individual players in other uniforms rolled up gaudier stats. Somebody from somewhere else will be named the National League's Most Valuable Player next week. But I'll take these five, our five, over any other five, starting last April and into eternity for as long as I'm capable of remembering 2006.
Easy enough to point to the milestones they reached, but what impresses me about (in alphabetical order) Beltran, Delgado, Lo Duca, Reyes and Wright is they knew what they were doing. Talent? Sure, loads of it. But these guys knew how to work counts, where to hit to, why they should take and what they should be looking for. They knew who they were. You didn't hear it enough, but they were five smart players.
They played both sides of the ball. We think of them as hitters, but they could defend. All right, Delgado isn't much of a first baseman, but after a half-decade that included more Vaughn and Phillips and Piazza and Jacobs and Offerman than Mientkiewicz, he was a pro. The rest were more than above average at their positions. Beltran earned his Gold Glove by floating through the air with the greatest of ease. Lo Duca was a ballast behind the plate. Wright and the third base line had an interesting relationship but when he closed the gap between him and it, it was something to see. Reyes? He's pretty handy in a hole.
None of them was one-dimensional, not on the field, not off it. Wright was a touch wide-eyed and Reyes' joie de ball was as innocent as it was contagious, but you know they didn't get this far this soon without being savvier than their years. Beltran was stoic, but not beyond smiling widely when relaxed, which he usually was for his and our good. Delgado was the brains of the outfit, a de facto life and hitting coach, but the emotion of making it to a playoff series positively glittered off of him. Lo Duca was tough, was hot, was indomitable. One also assumes that with his divorce and his diversion making unlikely headlines, he was hurting. He did a good job of hiding it.
Delgado (38 HR, 114 RBI) made the lineup dangerous. Lo Duca (.318 as a catcher batting second) replaced an icon and never looked back. Beltran (41 HR, 116 RBI, 127 R) radiated excellence. Wright (116 RBI, .311) demonstrated some mighty strong shoulders. Reyes (122 R, 64 SB, 17 3B, .300 along with 19 HR, 81 RBI from the leadoff spot…leadoff!) keeps running. These five, from the guy who finally learned to take four balls to the guy who was never stressed out by two strikes, acted as one. They built rallies. They built streaks. They built a season. Sports Illustrated picked the right five to feature when it wanted to spotlight the intrepid Mets.
So who was the greatest Met of 2006? I'm tempted to say it didn't and doesn't matter.
One lit up the basepaths and roused appreciative choruses.
One lured the malleable into our lair and created an army of loyalists.
One powered up at the plate and wrote down everything he hit.
One demonstrated an uncommon facility for every aspect of his trade.
One yielded not a single speck of ground to those who'd charge toward him or those who'd call him out.
I like the sum, but each part has its merits. Take your pick if you must.
If I wanted to give it to Carlos Delgado for providing all kinds of heart to the order, I wouldn't be wrong. I have him fifth.
If I wanted to give it to David Wright for busting out of the gate and fronting the franchise, I wouldn't be wrong. I have him fourth.
If I wanted to give it to Paul Lo Duca for playing through every kind of pain and never not producing, I wouldn't be wrong. I have him third.
If I wanted to give it to Jose Reyes for creating a renewable energy source and electrifying all of our fanly impulses (not to mention being so irresistibly serenadeable), I wouldn't be wrong. I have him second.
I want to give it to Carlos Beltran. I have him first.
Carlos Beltran should have stood up sooner for that first curtain call and shouldn't have stood by staring at that last pitch, but otherwise, for my money, he did everything to the best of his ability in 2006. And his ability is enormous.
When the Mets ascended to the mountaintop, when they emphatically put the rest of the division and the league behind them in May (10 HR, 25 RBI) and June (8 HR, 25 RBI), it was Carlos Beltran who planted the flag so it and they would not be moved.
When the Mets buried the curse of Turner Field once and for all in late July, it was Carlos Beltran who turned over the heftiest spade of dirt (12 games vs. Atlanta, home & away: 9 HR, 19 RBI, .318).
When the Mets refused to succumb in Houston, it was Carlos Beltran who pulled the plug on his old team, putting to rest his own personal demon even if it meant taking on a Minute Maid wall to deliver the last rites.
He swung the single most dramatic swing of the year at home, the one that trumped Pujols and the Cardinals. He ended the longest game of the year, the one against Madson and the Phillies. He hit more home runs, recorded more extra-base hit and scored more runs than any Met ever had. He answered almost every ball dialed into his area code and was rightly awarded by N.L. managers and coaches for it. He rose up from the kind of first New York year that would have crushed lesser spirits and made everybody just about forget it ever happened. He wasn't completely healthy in April or September, yet he had maybe the best year any Met has ever had.
In a sport that values strength up the middle, it's no coincidence that Carlos Beltran hits third and plays center. Whatever surge or slump the two teammates who batted before him and the two teammates who batted after him were enjoying or enduring, every pitcher who faced the Mets had to worry about the man in the middle.
I think I'm right in declaring Carlos Beltran the Greatest Met of 2006. But however you choose among Beltran, Reyes, Lo Duca, Wright or Delgado, I know you couldn't possibly go wrong.
Up next from 2006: Something that doesn't matter anymore.

In the spirit of woodchucks and how much wood they can chuck, the 2006 Mets were the best Mets to use as many Mets as a Mets team used.
They used 49. As a frame of reference, the 1962 Mets used four fewer. There was a whatever-it-takes quality to these particular Mets, so if it meant shuttling starters in and out as injuries necessitated, inserting relievers for day here and there, resuscitating third and fourth catchers or giving last shots to outfielders you'd all but forgotten about, they did whatever it took to win. And they won.
On Tuesday, a senator who famously invoked the wisdom that it takes a village to raise a child won resounding re-election from a constituency that couldn't help but notice it took all of Flushing to win a division. Coincidence? Perhaps.
In any event, if the 2006 Mets represented a team effort, it's fair to recognize every member of the team, 49 to 1.
49. Bartolome Fortunato Has never been seen with Juan Padilla and Jose Parra at Shea Stadium at the same time.
48. Victor Diaz Long may he run, and when he gets there, long may he find himself facing LaTroy Hawkins.
47. Jose Lima Only a few pitchers become landmarks for those who follow. Every fierce competitor is compared to Bob Gibson. Every unbeatable lefty can only hope to be mentioned with Sandy Koufax. For the rest of time, every rundown, over-the-hill, slightly absurd though nonetheless endearing starter the Mets conjure up despite his showing nothing anywhere of late will be the next Jose Lima.
46. Ricky Ledee When he was a rookie, I read he grew up watching the Mets on superstation WOR in Puerto Rico, so I always had the slightest of soft spots for him. It's not that soft anymore.
45. Jeremi Gonzalez Started the first Subway Series game of 2006 and the Mets won it dramatically. Scratch no further beneath the surface and it sounds pretty good.
44. Eli Marrero One great catch versus Baltimore. One necessary trade from Colorado.
43. Kelly Stinnett Threw out a runner in his first Mets start in 11 years. Can't wait to see what he's got in the tank come 2017.
42. Philip Humber Wasn't expecting a first glance this year. Got two of them, both encouraging.
41. Henry Owens Threw very hard. Then hardly at all.
40. Heath Bell The flights from New Orleans will be longer than from Norfolk, so I hope he finds a closer AAA-MLB route to travel next year.
39. Royce Ring Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Ring. It's a lefthander!
38. Victor Zambrano The really sad part is he was awesome for those final four batters against Atlanta.
37. Jorge Julio Came along very nicely. Then went away even better.
36. Mike Pelfrey The future's so bright, it's gonna be tall.
35. Roberto Hernandez Didja miss me? Turns out, not as much as we thought.
34. Mike DiFelice 2005: Dead weight. 2006: Good guy to have around.
33. Ramon Castro 2005: Good guy to have around. 2006: Wasn't around enough.
32. Kaz Matsui Big hits, nice plays for a few weeks. Those counted, too.
31. Michael Tucker Not the only ex-enemy who made himself useful.
30. Chris Woodward From Super Joe upgrade to latter-day Super Joe. Next time get the labrum fixed sooner.
29. Alay Soler The pan was flashed by several Mets pitchers in 2006. This guy did it enough to make you think it was more than that.
28. Dave Williams Someone adjusted his mechanics. Or time on the DL gave him a chance to reconsider his motion. Or obscure southpaws are still southpaws. However it happened, he was just short of extremely reliable.
27. Brian Bannister Always pitched well enough not to lose. Hit far too well for his own good. Didn't see him coming, so it was all gravy.
26. Anderson Hernandez His batting average and fielding percentage combined probably barely topped a thousand, and if you saw him hit, you know that's a compliment to his glove. Made the best play of the year that didn't involve a fence or a plate.
25. Oliver Perez Threw the six innings heard 'round the world. All previous question marks irrelevant in hindsight if not going forward.
24. Lastings Milledge On a team that wasn't exactly sucking wind, he was a breath of fresh air. Alas, things grew rather stale rather quickly in his wake.
23. Shawn Green Contenders have a history of picking up scuffling vets who rejuvenate themselves in time for October. Shawn Green was almost that vet. A few key hits are inked to his account but so are too many awkward swings and two tough noncatches in right. Not his fault the ride ended where it did but he didn't do anything in particular to keep it going.
22. Xavier Nady The f-word here is fate. It was not Xavier Nady's fate to stick around for August and September and October, which was too bad for him and probably us. A very good supporting-cast member whose departure weakened little by little every other link in the chain.
21. Darren Oliver He was going to retire? Nobody else wanted him? More proof that the people running baseball teams don't actually know anything. Most of them, anyway. Omar Minaya knew Darren Oliver could eat a few innings, occasionally at critical junctures. Nice work, both of you.
20. Cliff Floyd 53 fewer games played. 23 fewer home runs. 54 fewer RBI. 29 points lower on his batting average. It was easy to forget Cliff Floyd was a part of the 2006 Mets who as a whole improved by 14 games and two playoff rounds over 2005, when Cliff was his Monsta self. His brief return to health in the NLDS reminded us what this team really could have been if Cliff Floyd had been well from start to finish. Unfortunately, the finish (his and everybody's) was rather grim. Sooner or later, it was going to catch up with us.
19. Pedro Feliciano Some years calling on a lefty to get out a lefty is a chore. Other years Pedro Feliciano is on the team.
18. Chad Bradford The reason his right arm comes down so low? To demonstrate how deep this bullpen's depth was with him as a specialist-plus. Runners on base when Chad came into games wound up doing most of their reading at The Strand.
17. Julio Franco Somewhere in his remarkable Met tenure to date was a pinch-hitter and occasional first baseman who did a respectable if eventually unsatisfactory job with the bat. But we all know Julio Franco wasn't here for his bat or his glove or anything else that had to do with playing. What he was here for, by all accounts, he did very well. The results didn't show up in the boxscore — not next to his name, anyway.
16. Steve Trachsel Waited his whole career to pitch in the postseason. He's still waiting. If the Mets have ever had a less impressive 15-game winner, he's not springing to mind. But 15 wins are 15 wins…or were 15 wins. His ineffectiveness in the NLDS was glossable but his absolute meltdown in the NLCS sealed his Met fate. Observed Emma Span of the Village Voice after Game Three, “To say that Steve Trachsel had nothing tonight is to insult the void.” The only thing unsurprising about his 45.00 ERA against the Cardinals is it wasn't all that surprising.
15. Guillermo Mota We can assume Guillermo Mota's revival was not a result of clean living. The revival, however, did occur and the Mets benefited from it when they needed a shot in the, uh, arm.
14. John Maine I have to check, but I don't recall many caveats making the rounds last January to the tune of “sure we got rid of a decent mid-rotation guy in Benson and we're saddled with a real unsettling proposition in Julio, but you watch Maine, he's bound to pitch some big games for the Mets in the second half and probably the playoffs.”
13. Duaner Sanchez Tom Parsons for Jerry Grote. Robert Person for John Olerud. Jae Seo for Duaner Sanchez. Yeah, it was that good.
12. Orlando Hernandez In the Ageless Wonder Department, a crowded unit of Mets Inc., El Duque takes the cake. It's not a birthday cake because this guy really is ageless (unless you think he's the 37 he claims to be). And he was totally a wonder in 2006 in that you had to wonder how he was doing it, wonder how he could look so bad every five or so starts and then be so captivating for the other four. Ultimately we had to wonder when he was going to pitch again. If it had been in the World Series, it's tempting to wonder what would have happened.
11. Pedro Martinez Does it matter that he went 9-8? That his ERA careened past 4? That he didn't pitch for almost all of July, half of August and half of September? That he collected no wins in May? Not so much. Pedro Martinez may have posted the greatest presence-to-performance ratio in Mets history in 2006. What he did achieve when he was reasonably healthy was inspiring. What he didn't achieve…who cared? He was still Pedro. Better he's on our mound or on our bench than anybody else's. Every glance at MARTINEZ 45 always made everything just about OK. You tended to figure that sooner or later he'd get back out there and that he'd beat somebody. The later it got, the wronger you figured. Still, somehow, it doesn't matter. He's Pedro. He's a Met. He'll be back.
10. Endy Chavez Talk about a catch! What a play! What instincts! What ability! We're referring, of course, to Omar Minaya's world-class signing of a bargain-basement free agent, a light-hitting, fourth/fifth outfielder who was shipped out of Washington and let go by Philadelphia with no regrets by either team. Omar Minaya made Endy Chavez a Met. Endy took it from there. Endy took it from everywhere, Scott Rolen's bat only the last and most spectacular example.
9. Aaron Heilman Heilman rhymes with Smileman and I wish he would once in a while. Is it that bad having been the block of granite upon which a division winner built its biggest asset? Don't wallow, be happy. You were the eighth inning and the seventh inning at various stretches of 2006. You made many recaps happy, so show a little sanguinity already yet. Smile man.
8. Jose Valentin This is where Bob Newhart does one of his classic, one-sided telephone conversations. Hello, New York Mets…This is who?…Jose who?…We already have a Jose, a couple of 'em, actually…What's that?…You're a different Jose?…No, Valentine doesn't work here anymore…Oh, Valentin without the 'e'…You're Jose Valentin…Yeah, now that you mention it I think I've heard of you. What can I do for you, Jose Valentin?…You want to be the starting what?…I see. But we already have a second baseman. A bunch of 'em…What?…Not for long, you say?…Him either?…Oh. Well, what are your qualifications?…Nineteen games? You've played 19 games in the Majors at second?…That doesn't sound like a lot. How are you as a hitter?…Wow, Jose, that's a lot of strikeouts…What?…You plan to cut down?…And you're going to work on your defense at a position you've barely played in a career that dates to 1992?…And you're going to be 37 at the end of the season?…And you're going to start the season by not doing much of anything?…Not hitting and not playing. I see…Listen, Jose, you sound like quite a deal, but I really think we're going to have to go in another direction…What's that?…You won't take 'no' for answer? Well, if you've got a guaranteed contract, I guess we can't stop you from trying.
7. Billy Wagner Confession: I didn't know “Enter Sandman” was Billy Wagner's song when the Mets signed him. I was only vaguely aware it was Mariano Rivera's. And I wasn't really terribly familiar with it at all. I now know it and like it most nights and love it some nights. Once in a while, it's a little off-key, but it's been a long time since I heard anything in the ninth inning that sounds as good.
6. Tom Glavine If there's any baseball justice at all, Tom Glavine will win his 300th game as a New York Met. That I won't be washing my fingertips after typing that sentence tells you all you need to know about what he meant to this team in 2006.
That's 44 of 49. The remaining players deserve a little extra consideration, so please check back directly for The Five Greatest Mets of 2006.

In the spirit of woodchucks and how much wood they can chuck, the 2006 Mets were the best Mets to use as many Mets as a Mets team used.

They used 49. As a frame of reference, the 1962 Mets used four fewer. There was a whatever-it-takes quality to these particular Mets, so if it meant shuttling starters in and out as injuries necessitated, inserting relievers for day here and there, resuscitating third and fourth catchers or giving last shots to outfielders you'd all but forgotten about, they did whatever it took to win. And they won.

On Tuesday, a senator who famously invoked the wisdom that it takes a village to raise a child won resounding re-election from a constituency that couldn't help but notice it took all of Flushing to win a division. Coincidence? Perhaps.

In any event, if the 2006 Mets represented a team effort, it's fair to recognize every member of the team, 49 to 1.

49. Bartolome Fortunato Has never been seen with Juan Padilla and Jose Parra at Shea Stadium at the same time.

48. Victor Diaz Long may he run, and when he gets there, long may he find himself facing LaTroy Hawkins.

47. Jose Lima Only a few pitchers become landmarks for those who follow. Every fierce competitor is compared to Bob Gibson. Every unbeatable lefty can only hope to be mentioned with Sandy Koufax. For the rest of time, every rundown, over-the-hill, slightly absurd though nonetheless endearing starter the Mets conjure up despite his showing nothing anywhere of late will be the next Jose Lima.

46. Ricky Ledee When he was a rookie, I read he grew up watching the Mets on superstation WOR in Puerto Rico, so I always had the slightest of soft spots for him. It's not that soft anymore.

45. Jeremi Gonzalez Started the first Subway Series game of 2006 and the Mets won it dramatically. Scratch no further beneath the surface and it sounds pretty good.

44. Eli Marrero One great catch versus Baltimore. One necessary trade from Colorado.

43. Kelly Stinnett Threw out a runner in his first Mets start in 11 years. Can't wait to see what he's got in the tank come 2017.

42. Philip Humber Wasn't expecting a first glance this year. Got two of them, both encouraging.

41. Henry Owens Threw very hard. Then hardly at all.

40. Heath Bell The flights from New Orleans will be longer than from Norfolk, so I hope he finds a closer AAA-MLB route to travel next year.

39. Royce Ring Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Ring. It's a lefthander!

38. Victor Zambrano The really sad part is he was awesome for those final four batters against Atlanta.

37. Jorge Julio Came along very nicely. Then went away even better.

36. Mike Pelfrey The future's so bright, it's gonna be tall.

35. Roberto Hernandez Didja miss me? Turns out, not as much as we thought.

34. Mike DiFelice 2005: Dead weight. 2006: Good guy to have around.

33. Ramon Castro 2005: Good guy to have around. 2006: Wasn't around enough.

32. Kaz Matsui Big hits, nice plays for a few weeks. Those counted, too.

31. Michael Tucker Not the only ex-enemy who made himself useful.

30. Chris Woodward From Super Joe upgrade to latter-day Super Joe. Next time get the labrum fixed sooner.

29. Alay Soler The pan was flashed by several Mets pitchers in 2006. This guy did it enough to make you think it was more than that.

28. Dave Williams Someone adjusted his mechanics. Or time on the DL gave him a chance to reconsider his motion. Or obscure southpaws are still southpaws. However it happened, he was just short of extremely reliable.

27. Brian Bannister Always pitched well enough not to lose. Hit far too well for his own good. Didn't see him coming, so it was all gravy.

26. Anderson Hernandez His batting average and fielding percentage combined probably barely topped a thousand, and if you saw him hit, you know that's a compliment to his glove. Made the best play of the year that didn't involve a fence or a plate.

25. Oliver Perez Threw the six innings heard 'round the world. All previous question marks irrelevant in hindsight if not going forward.

24. Lastings Milledge On a team that wasn't exactly sucking wind, he was a breath of fresh air. Alas, things grew rather stale rather quickly in his wake.

23. Shawn Green Contenders have a history of picking up scuffling vets who rejuvenate themselves in time for October. Shawn Green was almost that vet. A few key hits are inked to his account but so are too many awkward swings and two tough noncatches in right. Not his fault the ride ended where it did but he didn't do anything in particular to keep it going.

22. Xavier Nady The f-word here is fate. It was not Xavier Nady's fate to stick around for August and September and October, which was too bad for him and probably us. A very good supporting-cast member whose departure weakened little by little every other link in the chain.

21. Darren Oliver He was going to retire? Nobody else wanted him? More proof that the people running baseball teams don't actually know anything. Most of them, anyway. Omar Minaya knew Darren Oliver could eat a few innings, occasionally at critical junctures. Nice work, both of you.

20. Cliff Floyd 53 fewer games played. 23 fewer home runs. 54 fewer RBI. 29 points lower on his batting average. It was easy to forget Cliff Floyd was a part of the 2006 Mets who as a whole improved by 14 games and two playoff rounds over 2005, when Cliff was his Monsta self. His brief return to health in the NLDS reminded us what this team really could have been if Cliff Floyd had been well from start to finish. Unfortunately, the finish (his and everybody's) was rather grim. Sooner or later, it was going to catch up with us.

19. Pedro Feliciano Some years calling on a lefty to get out a lefty is a chore. Other years Pedro Feliciano is on the team.

18. Chad Bradford The reason his right arm comes down so low? To demonstrate how deep this bullpen's depth was with him as a specialist-plus. Runners on base when Chad came into games wound up doing most of their reading at The Strand.

17. Julio Franco Somewhere in his remarkable Met tenure to date was a pinch-hitter and occasional first baseman who did a respectable if eventually unsatisfactory job with the bat. But we all know Julio Franco wasn't here for his bat or his glove or anything else that had to do with playing. What he was here for, by all accounts, he did very well. The results didn't show up in the boxscore — not next to his name, anyway.

16. Steve Trachsel Waited his whole career to pitch in the postseason. He's still waiting. If the Mets have ever had a less impressive 15-game winner, he's not springing to mind. But 15 wins are 15 wins…or were 15 wins. His ineffectiveness in the NLDS was glossable but his absolute meltdown in the NLCS sealed his Met fate. Observed Emma Span of the Village Voice after Game Three, “To say that Steve Trachsel had nothing tonight is to insult the void.” The only thing unsurprising about his 45.00 ERA against the Cardinals is it wasn't all that surprising.

15. Guillermo Mota We can assume Guillermo Mota's revival was not a result of clean living. The revival, however, did occur and the Mets benefited from it when they needed a shot in the, uh, arm.

14. John Maine I have to check, but I don't recall many caveats making the rounds last January to the tune of “sure we got rid of a decent mid-rotation guy in Benson and we're saddled with a real unsettling proposition in Julio, but you watch Maine, he's bound to pitch some big games for the Mets in the second half and probably the playoffs.”

13. Duaner Sanchez Tom Parsons for Jerry Grote. Robert Person for John Olerud. Jae Seo for Duaner Sanchez. Yeah, it was that good.

12. Orlando Hernandez In the Ageless Wonder Department, a crowded unit of Mets Inc., El Duque takes the cake. It's not a birthday cake because this guy really is ageless (unless you think he's the 37 he claims to be). And he was totally a wonder in 2006 in that you had to wonder how he was doing it, wonder how he could look so bad every five or so starts and then be so captivating for the other four. Ultimately we had to wonder when he was going to pitch again. If it had been in the World Series, it's tempting to wonder what would have happened.

11. Pedro Martinez Does it matter that he went 9-8? That his ERA careened past 4? That he didn't pitch for almost all of July, half of August and half of September? That he collected no wins in May? Not so much. Pedro Martinez may have posted the greatest presence-to-performance ratio in Mets history in 2006. What he did achieve when he was reasonably healthy was inspiring. What he didn't achieve…who cared? He was still Pedro. Better he's on our mound or on our bench than anybody else's. Every glance at MARTINEZ 45 always made everything just about OK. You tended to figure that sooner or later he'd get back out there and that he'd beat somebody. The later it got, the wronger you figured. Still, somehow, it doesn't matter. He's Pedro. He's a Met. He'll be back.

10. Endy Chavez Talk about a catch! What a play! What instincts! What ability! We're referring, of course, to Omar Minaya's world-class signing of a bargain-basement free agent, a light-hitting, fourth/fifth outfielder who was shipped out of Washington and let go by Philadelphia with no regrets by either team. Omar Minaya made Endy Chavez a Met. Endy took it from there. Endy took it from everywhere, Scott Rolen's bat only the last and most spectacular example.

9. Aaron Heilman Heilman rhymes with Smileman and I wish he would once in a while. Is it that bad having been the block of granite upon which a division winner built its biggest asset? Don't wallow, be happy. You were the eighth inning and the seventh inning at various stretches of 2006. You made many recaps happy, so show a little sanguinity already yet. Smile man.

8. Jose Valentin This is where Bob Newhart does one of his classic, one-sided telephone conversations. Hello, New York Mets…This is who?…Jose who?…We already have a Jose, a couple of 'em, actually…What's that?…You're a different Jose?…No, Valentine doesn't work here anymore…Oh, Valentin without the 'e'…You're Jose Valentin…Yeah, now that you mention it I think I've heard of you. What can I do for you, Jose Valentin?…You want to be the starting what?…I see. But we already have a second baseman. A bunch of 'em…What?…Not for long, you say?…Him either?…Oh. Well, what are your qualifications?…Nineteen games? You've played 19 games in the Majors at second?…That doesn't sound like a lot. How are you as a hitter?…Wow, Jose, that's a lot of strikeouts…What?…You plan to cut down?…And you're going to work on your defense at a position you've barely played in a career that dates to 1992?…And you're going to be 37 at the end of the season?…And you're going to start the season by not doing much of anything?…Not hitting and not playing. I see…Listen, Jose, you sound like quite a deal, but I really think we're going to have to go in another direction…What's that?…You won't take 'no' for answer? Well, if you've got a guaranteed contract, I guess we can't stop you from trying.

7. Billy Wagner Confession: I didn't know “Enter Sandman” was Billy Wagner's song when the Mets signed him. I was only vaguely aware it was Mariano Rivera's. And I wasn't really terribly familiar with it at all. I now know it and like it most nights and love it some nights. Once in a while, it's a little off-key, but it's been a long time since I heard anything in the ninth inning that sounds as good.

6. Tom Glavine If there's any baseball justice at all, Tom Glavine will win his 300th game as a New York Met. That I won't be washing my fingertips after typing that sentence tells you all you need to know about what he meant to this team in 2006.

That's 44 of 49. The remaining players deserve a little extra consideration, so please check back directly for The Five Greatest Mets of 2006.