In Birmingham, I once heard tell, they love the governor, while in the South in general, they love their college football. So in deference to Atlanta's most popular team, the Ramblin' Wreck from Georgia Tech, I'm calling an audible.

See, I was just about to write something to the effect of well, it's too bad we lost and the Phillies won and closed the gap between us to four games, but it's nice that if the Phillies had to beat anyone, it was super that it was the Braves because, well, they're the Braves.

Then I checked the ESPN.com scoreboard one more time to see if the Phillies 8 Braves 6 score from the ninth had gone final. It had. Except a Matt Diaz two-out, bases-clearing double off Brett Myers (a lot to choose from there, huh?) made it Braves 9 Phillies 8.

Holy Lemke! Braves help Mets yet again!

So to sum up:

• We took the day off in Cincinnati. Efficient of Willie to get the hung over, post-clinching game out of the way early.
• But we maintain our five-game lead and reduce our, dare I say it, magic number by one to 19.
• Because the Braves who we sw...sw...swept in Atlanta just took two of three from the phetid Phillies.
• And even with the win, the Braves are a hundred miles out.

Or, as Aretha Franklin put it, I don't know what we're doin', but we must be livin' right. (Except for Delgado's hip flexor.)

I can't totally dismiss Turner's worms because 7-1/2 back with 22 for them to play isn't totally buriable, not when they have three more chances against us (that's not Braves juju talking, just simple math...and maybe a little Met mojo). But they're pretty darn close to done. Magic number to eliminate Atlanta: 16.

No, Willie Harris does not bother me. Does Mark Teixeira bother you? Tell the truth.

Nothing to do with most of this, but I have to share: College football, of virtually relatively no interest in New York, is huge in the Midwest, too. The Appalachian State upset of Michigan was a major development throughout Big Ten country, which includes Milwaukee where we just spent a few days. The news crawl for the ABC affiliate in town was sure to highlight this result. And they did. According to the station, the Wolverines lost to...Appellation State.

Appellation State: The finest name in college football.

The same station ran this title over the bumper or tease for the story that would be coming up after the next commercial:

BUMP TITLE GOES HERE

WISN, Channel 12, Milwaukee...I don't know what they're doin', but they must not be livin' right.

For those of you keeping score at home, the Mets were 5 games ahead of the Phillies after the games of August 27 and they are 5 games ahead of the Phillies after the games of September 4. Both teams went 5-3 in the intervening week and a day.

Hence, nothing happened, right?

Wow does baseball make every single one of us who loves it look, feel and sound stupid every so often.

C'mon everybody, let's all admit it in unison so none of us has to feel ashamed: We know nothing about what's going to happen next.

I don't. I'm dumb as a plum when it comes to figuring out this game. I've spent every sentient year of my life focused like a laser on it and I haven't the foggiest. And I'm no dumber about it than any of you.

Having officially gone expectation-free since the second weekend of August, I've officially carried no expectations about what the Mets were likely to accomplish across the remainder of their schedule, but unofficially, I've had my thoughts.

I thought once they got on a roll against the Pirates and the Nationals, that it would carry over against the Padres. It didn't.

I thought once they expanded their lead to seven during the Dodger series that double-digits were just around the corner. They weren't.

I thought once they, with the help of their closest pursuers and their closest pursuers' allies in blue, coughed up one...two...three games in Philadelphia that the noose was tightening. It wasn't.

I thought a trip to Atlanta...well who the fudge would have guessed Turner Field would be so darn hospitable?

Now they've beaten Cincinnati two in a row, which seemed predictable enough. There, finally, something I figured out ten minutes in advance of it happening. Look at me! I'm a baseball genius!

Yeah, I rock. I'm so brilliant that I had grown tired of Carlos Delgado and Paul Lo Duca as if they were last year's models. I was becoming convinced that David Wright did not add up to the sum of his hype. I didn't bother to defend Shawn Green's viability any longer. I looked to skip John Maine in the rotation if at all possible. And I'd included Mike Pelfrey in every possible trade I could conjure.

Good thing I don't do this for a living...though judging by the constant stream of unprovables and wrongness that flows out of the mouths of everybody paid to assert and predict, I'd fit in as well as anyone. All I need is to preen and make lousy trades for a few seasons in a major media market and I could be a very hot commodity on some network.

Mets versus Reds today. You know what's gonna happen? Neither do I.

Not an inspiring slogan, perhaps, but it fits tonight's game well enough -- a bleary, fuzzy mess of a game, one in which the Mets looked at best mildly interested, but the Reds' parade of horrible pitchers (Todd Coffey came in with a 6.04 ERA and saw it go up) ensured they'd fall up into a rather ragged W.

Still, every season's going to bring at least 10 or 20 of these games -- a contest that's "less than scintillating," as Keith Hernandez called it, one of many points at which he seemed amazed that anyone would still be watching. So you may as well win them. As far as I know Elias doesn't keep track of teams' records in "hideous baseball games that would get neither team taken to the Tastee-Freez afterwards," but maybe it should. Because they all count the same in the end, and being on the wrong end of that 11-7 crapfest could mean the difference between the camera dwelling on Fox flavors of the month bundled up in your stadium and Tommy Lasorda telling a sad man wearing your colors to get out of the tree.

Actually, Shawn Green does get to go to the Tastee-Freez, because he quietly had himself a superb game. I'm not Shawn Green's biggest fan -- Emily and I were amazed to discover during tonight's game that he actually has a Gold Glove for his work in the outfield -- but he was terrific tonight. The three hits were obvious, as was the nice stab made as Delgado's substitute in the ninth, but what stuck out for me was a play that went unremarked: In the sixth, with the score tied, Delgado on second (after some remarkably laxadaisical baserunning, to use the Keith coinage) and Alou on first, Green smashed a double. We all saw that, but as Alou headed home, the camera briefly caught Green venturing far off second, practically windmilling his arms at the outfielders. Knowing Alou is Alou, he was trying to draw the throw, willing to give himself up to ensure the score would be 7-5. Impressive -- and then a pitching change later, Green read Lo Duca's little parachute right off the bat, ensuring there would be no play at the plate and it would be 8-5.

On the other hand, if Keith's heading for a Tastee-Freez anywhere near the Ohio River, I strongly advise the manager to turn the lights off, lock up, and hide behind the counter. What got into our favorite crazy-uncle announcer tonight? Emily and I were fascinated, amused, and slightly fearful. My God, the Reds have cheerleaders, and those cheerleaders are packing a few too many Michelins to be cheerleaders. What the hell will Keith say? And on and on, with Gary Cohen of course goading Keith at every opportunity, whether it was about his encounters with the Met faithful in coffee shops or what he was doing in the bowels of Riverfront Stadium or simply the Reds' stubborn inability to play baseball. All praise Pete Mackanin for not dropping the dangerously named Coutlangus back into the equation tonight. That said, it should be noted that Keith did immediately spot Delgado wincing on a swing in the ninth and drop all goofiness on the spot. The man's entertaining, but he's also really good.

Really good, and more than a little crazy, whether it was the spinning in his chair (like a kid in a luncheonette, Gary said in one of many great lines) or fretting about his fading red marker. After tonight's thoroughly entertaining, slightly edge-of-the-seat performance, I'm fascinated to hear what Keith will bring to a 12:45 matinee. Will SNY producers have an intern with a blowgun at the ready? (Marlin Perkins voice: "My assistant Jim will now attempt to take down the crazed color commentator....") In 12 hours we'll find out.