OK, I'm no longer so philosophical. In fact, I'm in the Valley of the Shadow of Something Not Good. Like I'm imagining the proto-bloggers of 1988 Baltimore gathered around crabs and beer, grousing that their damn team is 0-3 and wondering when it's going to end. Where does the AP get off invoking Jack Fisher and George Altman and the Class of '64? I thought that was our gig.

Losing streaks are like bad bouts of the flu: When you're in the middle of one, you can't imagine you'll ever be well again. Clearly misery is to be your lot in life, unless whatever you have is fatal, which seems perfectly plausible. Then you get well and a couple of days later you're vaguely embarrassed about all that drama.

Unless, of course, this is Baltimore and it's 1988....

Enough. No more. It's far too early to turn this blog into the Yusmeiro Petit Watch. Atlanta Braves, feh. Due for a fall, I say.

Just win, boys.

"Wow, this is a really good sandwich. Who wants to ask me about it?"

Willie, what's the deal with the double-switch?

"The Double-Switch Deal? You mean how when you come in to your local Subway and you get twice the meat and twice the cheese at half the price? Yeah, what a deal!"

No Willie, we're talking about the double-switch you botched against the Reds.

"The only double-switch I made was the switch I made on the double from Quiznos to Subway, where there's always a great 'botch' of your favorite fixin's to top off your favorite sandwiches!"

You mean batch?

"I mean flavor!"

But Willie, the Reds?

"Ah, the reds -- the tomatoes and the peppers that are available to accent the biggest, meatiest, tastiest Subway sub you've ever had. You're right -- they're awesome!"

C'mon Willie. How on earth did you blow something as simple as knowing you had to take out the first baseman and the pitcher at the same time to be able to switch them in the order?

"You can order anything you like at Subway, and yes, you can get it to take out. And the only blowing I'll be doing will be blowing on my hot meatball sub because it's so darn hot when it comes out of the Subway microwave oven."

Did you not realize that when you put DeJean into pitch that you also had to replace Mientkiewicz with Woodward simultaneously if you wanted Woodward to bat ninth? Was it a lack of experience that caused you to overlook that rule?

"I realize there's no better experience than biting into a delicious tuna sub at Subway. As a matter of fact, it does rule!"

That doesn't answer my question at all.

"Is anybody going to ask any questions about me?"

Yes. Do you have any idea how muddled your explanation was after the game when you said the umpires shouldn't have allowed Dave Miley's protest because you hadn't crossed the line yet? What line?

"There's no line."

So you admit you were confusing the double-switch with a visit to the mound?

"I admit that there's never a line at Subway because their courteous, professional staff of sandwich artists moves you through their many restaurants and to your lunch in 90 seconds or less."

Willie, the season's barely started, but it's beginning to feel as if you don't quite have your head in the game. After the crushing opener, you dwelled on what a nice day it had been for you. Regarding your closer, you basically said he's not as good as his counterpart on the Yankees, which doesn't do anything for his confidence or make Mets fans feel any better. You've got guys stealing when they should be staying, and staring when they should be running. And then there was this whole embarrassing episode with the double-switch that wasn't, which may or may not have affected DeJean's demeanor on the mound, and god knows DeJean doesn't need distractions. I guess I'm asking if you feel you're living up to expectations as a manager thus far?

"When it comes to expectations, Subway surpasses all of them. You've gotta try their new sandwiches. It's on bread that's really toast!"

Willie, get it together soon or that's what you'll be.