Man, it sure sucks that we lost the seventh game of the 2005 World Series yesterday afternoon.

What's that? We didn't? Are you sure? You'll have to forgive me then, because that's the impression I got from this morning's papers.

Here's Filip Bondy: "Sandman! Cue Sandman! Sorry, no Sandman. Very clearly, this was no longer the rally-proof Bronx, the triple-pad-locked, barb-wired playground of a certain one-pitch reliever."

Now, I expected no more from the sniggering Muttley of Yankee propagandists. But I was a bit disappointed in Harvey Araton: "From the dugout as Joe Torre's third-base coach and last year as his first lieutenant, Randolph had a front-row ticket for Mariano Rivera."

Mariano Who? Oh yeah, the Yankee reliever. But wait a minute -- isn't he the same guy who came into Game 4 of the ALCS, with the Yankees three outs from a World Series -- and blew the save? And isn't he the same guy who came right back in Game 5 of the ALCS -- and blew the save? And perhaps I've gone crazy, because this seems impossible, but isn't he the same guy who came into today's game (played in that "triple-pad-locked, barb-wired playground," if I can quote me up some of that fancified writin') against the Red Sox -- and blew the save? Now, I'm no math whiz, but from my calculations it looks to me like this Mariano fella is on a three-game losing streak, saves-wise. Amnesia may be a necessary part of the toolkit for professional athletes, but it's a bit embarrassing in professional sportswriters.

I'd climb higher on this particular high horse, except  for the fact that our new manager is part of the problem. This, alas, was Willie Randolph yesterday: "There's not too many Mariano Riveras around, that's for sure." I can't believe I'm saying this, but time for a little Wilpon interference. How about a short, sharp memo: We admire your loyalty, Willie, but choose your comparisons more carefully -- you work for us now. Any questions, let us know.

Anyway, this is the nature of closers. One of the more-searing parts of Moneyball is Michael Lewis's description of Billy Beane stamping out closers like counterfeit coins: "You could take a slightly above average pitcher and drop him into the closer's role, let him accumulate some gaudy number of saves, and then sell him off. You could, in essence, buy a stock, pump it up with false publicity, and sell it off for much more than you'd paid for it."

When that was written, Beane had shipped off closer Billy Taylor to some idiot team that'll remain nameless for Jason Isringhausen, whom he later let go as a free agent and so converted into Cardinals draft picks, to be replaced by Billy Koch, who couldn't make the Blue Jays this spring.

Why is it so easy to mint closers and pass them off on suckers? Because people don't understand the numbers. As Alan Schwarz noted recently in the Times, last year 84.8% of save opportunities were converted by relievers considered closers. That works out to 32 of 38, which sounds good to us, but isn't -- it's average. (Schwarz notes that Keith Foulke is the talk of the town these days, but he was actually slightly below average in save percentage last year. Incidentally, he blew a save today too.)

Braden Looper's an average closer. If he has an average year he'll go 32 of 38; if he has a good one he might go 34 or 35 of 38; if he has a bad one he might go 29 or 30 of 38. I was gonna say he ain't Brad Lidge -- but you know what? Brad Lidge converted 88% of save opportunities last year: better than average, but probably not as good as most people would have guessed. And no, Braden Looper ain't Mariano Rivera, who did convert 93% last year. (And 50% in the ALCS.) But I've got news for certain New York media and managerial circles: Recently Mariano Rivera ain't Mariano Rivera, either.

When ninth-inning do-or-die situations arise this season, I hope Braden Looper is up for them. He was the most dependable Met all of last year and yet I still don't quite trust him -- maybe he was waiting for this year to start blowing games in earnest because he knew doing so last year would be a waste of time, what with nobody watching.

I knew it.

Not just on February 27, as I take absolutely no solace in pointing out, but in the minutes leading up to this mind-blowing, game-blowing, we're-blowing debacle.

A 6-4 lead escorted into the ninth should be safe. The warm n' fuzzies that were in evidence should have been validated. Yes, yes, Reyes and Beltran and Floyd and five of Pedro's innings and Kaz and Mike and Mister Koo were all wonderful.

Yet it never felt right.

* Pedro's 12 Ks, awesome as they were to behold, couldn't mask the lousy first inning and, to be totally unreasonable and ungrateful about it, guaranteed he'd go no longer than six.
* You don't escape two lame DPs like Wright's. Why was he batting so high in the order anyway?
*About three seconds after a graphic appeared (on the television screen if you've forgotten what one of those looks like) lauding Carlos for almost never getting caught stealing, he was picked off.
* Aybar's effortless giving up of that single run in the seventh was a signal that Cincinnati wasn't done.

Then two worse things happened.

One was Gary Cohen rolling out the Mets' marvelous Opening Day record since 1970, which was about to improve to 29-7 as soon as Braden Looper did what he did so often last year. He didn't say it quite like that, but there was a little too much in-the-bag presumptuousness informing his delivery.

The other was Braden Looper, so reliable in 2004, too easily penciled in to be the same in 2005. He'd pitched not well toward the end of spring training (not unlike DeJean, the other so-called given) and I was hoping it wouldn't come down to him.

Who is Braden Looper? What did he ever do for us except pile up a bunch of infrequent saves in almost total anonymity over one year? There is some degree of Metsworthiness that each player must pass in my judgment to be forgiven the occasional immense blunder, and while I couldn't begin to explain the grading process, I know it when I see it. And I don't see it in Looper. Not right now.

This is hasty ingratitude bordering on ignorance (to cite my guru Rob Emproto citing his guru Bill James, you're never as bad or as good as you look when you look your worst or your best), but screw that, man. The guy freaking blew Opening Day for us. Freaking took a beautiful thing and made it ugly and grotesque, ensuring there'd be nothing remotely pleasant to think about any earlier than Wednesday night at ten. Instead of floating on a cloud for the next fifty-plus hours, I was left with visions of Mike Schmidt in 1974 and Dante Bichette in 1995, the walkoff weasels of first games past.

BRADEN LOOPER?

Who is he really?

BA! PEN DROOLER

Moments after Joe Randa ruined everything, I typed the name Braden Looper and stared at it. As difficult as it was for him to pitch like a Major Leaguer, it was easy to form appropriate anagrams, especially when you consider all the fine work by his teammates that was contaminated by his dogass effort...

RE: A POOR BLEND

A season that should have started sky-high now draws attention for the rock-bottom way it has begun...

LO DRAB OPENER

The guy's pitches were so radioactive that if they took place in an adult movie, even the most lascivious characters would have to be covered up with a specially encased protective garment...

LEAD PORN ROBE

We were wrecked by a fastball that was unsafe at any speed...

NADER BLOOPER

The love I felt turned to something much worse...

ARDOR? BLEEP, NO

Now, instead of wanting to live and breathe Mets baseball, I don't know whether to sulk or just end it all...

BROOD'N LEAPER

Oh, it's not that bad. It's just one game. There will probably at least three or four more this year. I wish I had a distraction, though. I doubt making some toast or taking a swim would improve my mood...

BREAD NOR POOL

No, I need something stronger...

POLAR BEER? (NOD)

Ahhhh, they really know what they're brewing in Venezuela. Still, someone who gets paid to do what he gets paid to do should benefit from the experience of his mishap and understand that it if he doesn't improve, it could portend something ominous...

PRO -- LEARN BODE

Because Polar Beer isn't the only Venezuelan import available on the US market. Right, Uggie?