I disagree about Piazza and his performance Saturday. When we look back at this season, this game will be remembered more for an unhappier reason:

It was the day I had a ticket to the game that would've allowed me to start a year 4-0 for the first time, and I didn't go. Whenever my next appearance comes, when it comes with a loss, I'll have no one to blame but myself. Well, myself and my head, which decided to come down with what is actually known as a suicide headache, a dandy little diversion that fells me from time to time. I've got a sweet prescription med for it that works eventually (like Seo) but knocks me out immediately (like Ohka). Somehow, the LIRR, the 7, and another three hours of stiff winds, cold mists and Ameriquest runs-scored bells (even if the bells toll for we) didn't seem like the right holistic alternative.

On the bright side -- besides a win being a win from wherever it is observed -- I've got a crisp, new $30 LOGE bookmark. Or, if I'm reading the back of it correctly, I could trade the unused ticket in for a buy one-get one free six-inch sub at Subway. It's a lotta meat! (Frighteningly, Willie's commercials are growing on me.)

Sorry to get in the way of a blowout win and the serious subtext of Mike's aging swing, but there is Me in Mets.

As for the Piazza Connection or lack thereof, this is news? He's been steaming downhill for the past three seasons. Nevertheless, if Guzman doesn't make a nice play in the first, we are instead sated with Mike's line-drive RBI single, don't notice him the rest of the way and find something else to bitch about in a 10-5 triumph:

* Damn Seo only pitched six innings of one-run ball after we thought he'd pitch one inning of six-run ball. GINTER! GINTER! GINTER!
* Four of Diaz's plate appearances didn't result in bases on balls. THERE ARE STATISTICS THAT PROVE SINGLES AND DOUBLES KILL RALLIES!
* Heavenly Heath's not pitching in meaningful spots. NO BASERUNNERS IN NORFOLK, DID YOU KNOW THAT?
* Reyes got zero walks -- and don't tell me it's because he didn't play. STOP MAKING EXCUSES FOR HIM!

Our erstwhile standard-bearer still gets a decent swing or two every game, not bad considering who he is at the present time. He's Mike, but he's old. He's 36, which is like 45 in catcher years. He shouldn't be batting cleanup, yet he can still do a few things, and Minaya Be Praised that we've got a couple of other bats capable of doing a few things more.

When Frank Robinson came out to unsuccessfully and inaccurately argue that Wilkerson's ninth-inning double should've been called a home run, Gary said he should be used to losing these debates with umpires at Shea. He's been losing them since 1969. Direct historical hit! Several years ago, I was privileged enough to be invited to a Major League Alumni dinner. I walked right by both Frank and Brooks Robinson that night and while, sure, I was awed by their Hall of Fame presence, most of me thought, "Screw you, Orioles! You didn't take us seriously and you lost to us, you overconfident, overcocky, sons of bitches. It still thrills me and it still annoys you."

In that vein of good guys winning and bad guys losing, we scored 10 runs and won Saturday. The other New York team allowed 10 runs and lost Saturday. Symmetry, symmetry...can't get enough of symmetry, symmetry...the Yankees suck. One advantage of being head-ridden was the opportunity to recline on the couch and push the delightful LAST button on the remote, the one that sent me from Channel 11 to YES. Hey, the LAST button is appropriate for that network's house underachievers since that's where they are, all by their lonesome. LAST.

What a marvelous contrast the two broadcasts presented. Seaver and O'Brien (who doesn't seem so bad when we're up by large margins) kidded each other about calling Washington Montreal, traded "I went to the White House" stories and sized up Victor's chances to go 5-for-5. Over on YES, the ministers of propaganda were presiding over a nine-inning state funeral, one that could give Brezhnev's a run for its dour money:

* "Paul, the Yankees certainly aren't getting it done the way they did when you were playing."
* "Sooner or later, you can't say 'it's early' anymore.
* "You really can't blame these fans for booing."

The fun continued into the post-game. On the radio, a straight-voiced Diaz told Eddie he wasn't all that impressed with Beltran's catch because "he makes the 119 and he's gotta earn it." Howie cracked up Gary by noting the 3:24 time of game was almost long enough to dry out the Passover brisket. Back on YES, three dark-suited men wore grim expressions, shook their heads and spoke in hushed tones about what terrible thing might happen next if we, uh, you know, don't take care of business. It was like watching one of those wakes from The Sopranos.

My head still hurt, but I felt little pain.

So in the 5th, our boys had sent 10 men to the plate -- and there was nobody out. I don't think I've ever seen that before.

Neither, perhaps, had the Mets: Floyd, Mientky and Wright promptly struck out, perhaps in disbelief.

Neither, perhaps, had Frank Robinson: I was really starting to worry about him.

WPIX had already made a habit of cutting to Frank's reaction after various atrocities earlier in the day. First when Tomo Ohka insisted on foiling Jae Seo's attempt to make an out via the sacrifice bunt, walking him instead. (Take that!) Then when Ohka was late covering first, granting Carlos Beltran an infield hit despite Carlos' best effort to be out by losing a step sliding into first. But in the 5th inning, the reaction shots were legion.

Absurd pop-fly double for Diaz! (One eyelid begins twitching as Frank stares out at the field.) Seo singles up the middle! (A vein in Frank's temple balloons alarmingly before returning to its normal size.) Woodward smacks the ball to center, Wilkerson misreads it -- and it drops in! (Everyone on the bench begins butt-scooting sideways to get some distance from Frank.) Little ground ball to Baerga -- between his legs into left field! (Frank has apparently lost the ability to blink.) Tony Blanco falls down, and that's a double for Beltran! (Frank's new road Nats hat spontaneously combusts.) Another ground ball to Baerga, he goes for the tag play -- and everybody's safe! (Blood begins to drip from the bottom of Frank's clenched fists.)

It got so bad Emily and I were campaigning for someone to tell Robinson he had an urgent phone call in the clubhouse, then bundle him into a straitjacket and take him to a happier place. What made things worse was that I was downstairs running, while Emily was upstairs watching the TiVo-enabled TV, which comes with a slight delay. So every indignity happened twice. "Whoa! No way!" "Huh? No way!" "I'm worried about Frank!" "Yeah, he looks like he's going to blow." "Whoa! No way!" "Wha? No way!" (Repeat for a long, long time.)

Fun's fun, but I suspect when we look back at this season, this game will be remembered more for an unhappy reason: It may stand as a milestone in the decline of Mike Piazza. It wasn't just that Mike went 0 for 4 and left 9 on-base. It was the 4th inning, when the Nats had Gary Majewski walk Beltran with two out and a runner on third to pitch to Piazza. I don't know how it played in the park, but at home it was a stunner: They just intentionally walked a guy to pitch to Mike Piazza.

Mike's hitting .200. I hope I'm wrong, but he doesn't look like he's in a slump. He looks old. Baseball, like life, is a pitiless affair, and so we knew this day was coming -- after all, it happened to Rusty and Gary and Mex and Robin, and one day it'll happen to Beltran and Wright, and to future Met phenoms who can't even shave yet. But it's still shocking to see "someday" turn into "this day." Mike Piazza? Why, he just arrived yesterday. They showed video of him and Jay Horwitz in the airport. Standing ovation after standing ovation. Helped beat the Brewers with a double that was hit so hard it left a burn mark halfway up the gap. Leiter got the win.

It was just yesterday, I tell you. How can Mike Piazza be old?