Honestly, this would have been a good night in Met Land even if we hadn't come all the way back from 7-1 in thrilling fashion. Instead of going under the knife, Tom Glavine will have to take baby aspirin -- the stuff that isn't even bitter when you chew it. Instead of the uncertain business of asking what might be too much from Endy Chavez and demanding Lastings Milledge grow up in public, we added a veteran to man right field through October. And if it doesn't look like a dip in the Fountain of Postseason will rejuvenate Shawn Green, Chavez/Milledge isn't a bad Plan B.

That's what I was thinking when it was 7-1 and the only question was how many more Bad Albert would swat to Portugal. John Maine may have a tough go of it his second time through the league, but there's no first-time discount when Pujols is at the plate. Luckily, there's not a lot more to the Cardinals these days, besides annoying ex-Mets to scowl at. (RUN, TIMO! YOU JACKASS! RUN! And Looper...Christ, where to start with you. Oh, the hell with it. Just go away.) There is a lot more to us -- while David Wright continues his lonely sojourn in Slump Forest, Carlos Delgado has emerged, blinking and mildly annoyed, from those deep dark woods. And has he ever brought lumber out with him -- his grand slam was so ridiculously gone that I barely blinked. When a ball goes that far it's meant to be and you're just a bystander. Does one cheer avalanches or miles-long forks of lightning cracking the sky? Add in Lo Duca playing his usual gritty defense and slashing hits at every opportunity, Chad Bradford coolly inducing not one but two clutch double plays and the continuing renaissance of Aaron Heilman, and it was a very nice night indeed.

And that was before the heroics of Carlos Beltran. If this season winds up being one of those that's endlessly, lovingly dissected and chronicled -- like a certain one just satisfyingly celebrated -- the key moment lasered in on by every baseball historian will be this one: the moment Carlos Beltran decided that no, he wasn't going to acknowledge Shea Stadium's petty, fickle fans with the curtain call they wanted -- not after how shabbily he'd been treated for a year and change. And then the moment, hard on its heels, when Julio Franco told him sympathetically but firmly that his point had been made, and it was time to get up on that top step.

Since he emerged from the dugout that night there's been nary a boo for Carlos Beltran -- and nary a reason for even the least-forgiving leather-lung to express displeasure. That wasn't just the moment Carlos Beltran and the fans agreed to start over, though that was significant. It was also the moment Carlos Beltran realized that there was no reason to try to make himself into whatever mythical beast is the product of Carlos Beltran + $119 million -- that just being Carlos Beltran would be more than enough. He, and we, have been the beneficiaries ever since.

Before we go, a moment for a wonderful call from Howie Rose, one that'll be leading off a lot of WFAN broadcasts: "First pitch ... fastball hit deep to right field! It's gonna win the ballgame! Home run!"

Oh, and keep playing "The Curly Shuffle." Just a hunch.

I have a Shawn Green baseball card, the back of which says...

Following in the tradition of Hank Greenberg and Sandy Koufax, Shawn announced his decision not to play on Yom Kippur.

Good news: Yom Kippur this year falls on the Monday between the end of the season and the start of the playoffs.

Better news: We'll have a game that Tuesday. And so, just given Bud Selig's blessing, will Shawn Green.

Looks like we have a stand-in for Cliff Floyd. Looks we can deploy Endy Chavez in his customary secret weapon role. Looks like Michael Tucker can be Matt Franco in the late innings. Looks like any pressure that might weigh on Lastings Milledge can dissipate. Looks like Ricky Ledee may need a ride to the airport.

Looks like the Mets will have their first Jewish ballplayer in a quarter-century.

On a day when Tom Glavine's left arm was diagnosed as unclotted — mazel tov! — the trade for Shawn Green (giving up Norfolk lefty Evan MacLane to the Diamondbacks and taking on a thus far undisclosed chunk of salary) feels like a little extra mitzvah from Minaya. Mostly because he's an experienced outfielder with a bat and an arm, and veteran stars tipping toward the other side of their careers have a happy history of reviving with contenders. But a little because he'll be the Mets' first Jewish ballplayer in a quarter-century.

When Shawn Green came to Shea with the Blue Jays in 1999, I joked to my companion that I guess I should have brought a Star of David flag and paraded through the stands with it. This was in the era of fannies in seats for stars of other teams and displays of allegiance to them instead of the Mets. I'm speaking primarily of the Dominican contingent that cheered for Chicago Cub Sammy Sosa. That always turned my stomach, just as it made me a little queasy that I saw a few of my landsmen going nuts for Green when he visited as a Dodger on Jewish Heritage Day in 2004.

This is America. My people are Americans. When I'm at Shea, I choose to identify with Metropolitan-Americans. Over the years, I've seen Brad Ausmus, Mike Lieberthal and Jason Marquis, to name three Jewish players, come and go from Shea and never noticed a swelling of religious or ethnic pride at their appearances. Nor did it even occur to me that they were fully or partly Jewish. They were opponents.

Shawn Green, however, was a little different. As it says on the back of his card — from the set American Jews in America's Game: 1871-2003, produced by the American Jewish Historical Society — "Shawn is the outstanding, as well as the most Jewishly identified, major leaguer of this generation." Because he was the most talented, most accomplished, most celebrated Jewish player since Koufax, I did applaud him before his first at-bats when he faced the Mets. Because he faced the Mets, I rooted for him to strike out.

For the record, there have been six Jewish Mets to date. Joe Ginsberg was the first. Art Shamsky was the best. Dave Roberts, 'til now, was the last. They are joined by Norm Sherry, Greg Goossen and Elliott Maddox. None of them made the AJHS's all-time Jewish team.

Shawn Green did.

I missed Ginsberg, Sherry and Goossen. I don't think I knew about Shamsky's faith when he was in Flushing; he left when I was 8 and I didn't learn that there was such a thing as a Jewish baseball player until I read it in Baseball Digest when I was 9. I didn't know about Roberts or Maddox until I got their cards. The lack of Jewish Mets (even the mildly disappointing word in 1987 that Cone wasn't derived from Cohen) didn't exactly create a void in my life as a fan. My Judaism is pretty much limited to fuzzy anecdotes from my youth and my intermittent sprinkling of Yiddish phrases into my blog.

It's seeped into my fandom now and again, I suppose. The first Mets game I ever attended was under the auspices of kosher Camp Avnet. In a fit of Israeli solidarity after 9/11, I bought a Mets cap with the NY translated into Hebrew, though if it weren't blue and orange, I wouldn't be able to tell you what it says. When I think of it, except on Friday nights and Saturday afternoons, I'll go for a hot dog from the Hebrew National stand...they're just better. But unlike Shawn Green, I don't let the High Holy Days get in the way of my baseball games. For me, baseball games are the High Holy Days.

AJHS's Jewish Major Leaguers set proved so popular, they put out a sequel this year. On Shawn Green's update card, it is noted that during Yom Kippur 2004, in the middle of the Dodgers' race in the West versus the Giants, "He decided that he owed it to his team to play one of the two games in that 24-hour period, while observing the Day of Awe during the other game."

What it doesn't say is that a couple of weeks later, in the NLDS against the Cardinals, Shawn Green smacked three homers.

Can he pull that kind of performance out of his yarmulke the month after next? Might he restore the pop the lower half of the order has been missing since the dismissal of Nady and the disabling of Floyd? Will we regret taking on his hefty $9 million contract and $2 million buyout when 2007 rolls around?

All good questions. I have no answers. But Shawn Green, the outstanding, as well as most Jewishly identified, major leaguer of his generation, can now say, today I am a Met. Will it help us?

Couldn’t hurt.

We will investigate anything to make our club better.
—Omar Minaya, 2006

The Mets is a very good thing. They give everybody a job. Just like the WPA.
—Billy Loes, 1962

The 1962 Mets won 40 games.
The 2006 Mets won 40 games by June 12.

The 1962 Mets had Cliff Cook, Gus Bell and Gene Woodling.
The 2006 Mets have Cliff Floyd, Heath Bell and Chris Woodward.

The 1962 Mets had Hobie Landrith.
The 2006 Mets have Jose Reyes.

Ken MacKenzie.
Kaz Matsui.

Zimmer.
Zambrano.

Sammy Drake and Sammy Taylor.
Carlos Beltran and Carlos Delgado.

Bob Miller and Bob Miller.
Lo Duca and El Duque.

Roger Craig had two first names.
Anderson Hernandez has two last names.

Ed Kranepool came up young.
As has Lastings Milledge.

Gil Hodges' career began during World War II.
As has Julio Franco's.

Marvelous Marv!
Lima Time!

Vinegar Bend Mizell.
Bartolome Fortunato.

Cannizzaro.
Marrero.

Daviault.
David.

Choo Choo.
Pedro.

Harry Chiti was traded for Harry Chiti.
Roberto Hernandez was traded for Roberto Hernandez...by way of Xavier Nady.

You can barely tell the 1962 Mets and 2006 Mets are related. Sure they have the same family name, but where's the resemblance? While it's true that one was instantly immortalized and the other is potentially legendary, it's just as true that one was more godawful than the other is awful good.

One will clinch fairly soon. The other was eliminated in early September.

Clarification: Eliminated in early September from finishing in NINTH place. The 1962 Mets were statistically eliminated from pennant contention in early August. They were spiritually out of it long before that.

So what's the connection, besides the faintest of DNA, between the lovable losers of 1962 and the wonderful winners of 2006? Well, when Guillermo Mota first takes the mound as a Met (and presumably aims at his first batter as a Met), he will become the 45th player to play for the Mets this year.

So?

So, in all of 1962, the Mets used 45 players. Trading for Mota means we will, as soon as tonight, August 22, catch the worst team in modern baseball history square in the middle of the revolving roster door.

Significance? It is thought, with more than a modicum of logic and a dollop of evidence to support it, that the more players you burn through, the worse you must be. The most players the Mets ever used in one year was 54 in 1967. They lost 101 games. Two years ago, Joe Hietpas' ninth-inning cameo on the final day of the season meant 52 different Mets played in 2004.

Check the right field wall for me when you get a chance and let me know if the Mets won anything in 2004.

Conversely, if you're good, it implies you have the right people in the right positions and you stick with them. The 1969 world champions employed 35 Mets. The 1986 crew encompassed 36 — even if only 20 got to promenade on Saturday night. Two years later, the Mets won a division title with 32 players, the fewest to don the blue and orange in one annum.

As the Mets have added more colors to their scheme since 1988, it's become customary to add more bodies to their floating crap game of a roster year-in and year-out. Winning the Wild Card in 1999 called for just enough Jeff Tams, Shane Halters and Dan Murrays to match '62's 45. Forty-seven men, including one Mann who is now a Duck, contributed to the 2000 flag march.

We want to believe 2006 will result in greater things than '99 and '00. It will — the total of players used will almost surely be greater than in either of those years. Obtain Shawn Green and promote Oliver Perez and — boom! — you've exceeded one Wild Card winner and equaled another. Though he wouldn't add a notch to the all-time roster (which, with Mota's first high and tight pitch, will hit 796), our dream date Edgardo Alfonzo would raise the '06 count to 48, breaking the record for most Mets used by a playoff-bound team.

How can a club so good be composed of so many? It's counterintuitive. If lousy teams — and none will ever be lousier than 1962's Mets — cry for turnover, swell teams that have been in first place since April 6 must not demand much tinkering.

Intuition, however, ain't what it used to be. Consider how different times are from 44 years ago.

• Player movement is uniformly rapid.
• With ten teams created since the first round of expansion, there are many more big-leaguers to be tested, evaluated and discarded.
• Impatience runs rampant, especially in New York.
• Budgets are bigger, especially in New York.
• Injuries have always dictated moves — it took 40 Mets to overcome a particularly painful 1973 — and this year has seen enough aches to excite Excedrin. What we quaintly refer to as the starting rotation has required a dozen different arms to continue spinning on its own axis.
• A general manager given a free hand in personnel matters has proven he feels untethered to the talent accumulated by his predecessors. Hey, Victor Diaz wasn't my idea. Tell him to book one-way.

Yes, perfectly logical reasons abound as to why Meeting the Mets can take all day these days. Still, we ended last season with 771 Mets ever and, with 25 NuMets already augmenting the rolls in 2006 (once we ink in Mota), we have a fair shot to reach 800 by this season's end. Use one more guy than that and we're talking 50 players on a division champion. We'll be waaaaay closer to the quantity associated with the futility of 1967 than the efficiency linked to 1988. As is, we're a single Verizon Call to the Bullpen away from being in league with the 1962 Mets and all the instability for which they will forever stand.

And the roster is still ten days from expanding.

Three words were invented for this type of Metsian phenomenon in 1962. Each of them was Amazin'.