I don't know what the heck a rulebook expert like Bobby Valentine would have made out of what just happened in Atlanta. I don't know what the rulebook even says regarding a mess like that. But sometimes the best thing to do is put the rulebook aside and work it out like 12-year-olds would have -- eventually -- on the sandlot.

Which is what -- eventually -- happened.

1. OK, the ball was trapped. Bad call by Bruce Dreckman.
2. OK, Angel Pagan clearly passed Ryan Church on his way to a cancelled rendezvous between his foot and home plate.
3. OK, but Church had to stop and tag up once Dreckman's fist went up. He can't first assess whether random baserunners are speeding past his position.

And so ... you could ... but then again ... and how about ... You know what? Atlanta, get back on the field. Met runners, come here. Not you, Church -- you go home. Pagan, you go stand on third. And we're not gonna talk about it anymore. Play ball already. I SAID WE'RE NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT IT ANYMORE!

You know what? Fair enough.

I'm only left with one question: Why do you never see both managers talking something over with the umpires? Would Cox and Randolph automatically start spitting on each other or come to blows? Aren't the arguments they'll make the same whether or not the other guy's in attendance? And isn't the explanation the same for both of them?

Ah, the mysteries of baseball.

Update: Tomorrow's Santana-Smoltz, shades of Pedro-Smoltz three years ago. All I'd like to commit to memory about today's crapfest is the promise of the game coming tomorrow, which I suppose kind of says it all.

Last night, en route to the rainout, Kevin Burkhardt interviewed T#m Gl@v!ne. It wasn't to check in on the wife and kids.

The transaction was predictable. Kevin, who I think does a very good job making something out of what could be a very superfluous role, tossed him an "I have to ask you this" softball about the inglorious end of his mixed-bag Mets career. Gl@v!ne spun into damage control mode with all the aplomb of a Mitt Romney or a Joe Biden demonstrating the kind of political skills that got each of them so far in his respective presidential bids.

Paraphrasing, Gl@v!ne said people were upset with him because he didn't say he was devastated...and reminded us that he and Christine have been busy fighting the scourge of childhood cancer and he understands what real devastation is, but sure he was upset, it was a lousy start, he couldn't sleep.

Thanks for clearing that up, big guy.

Burkhardt's question was a little awkward, making it sound as if millions of us had asked ourselves last September 30, "gee, do ya think T#m is devastated?" when in reality it was Gl@v!ne himself who introduced the d-word into the Met lexicon. We didn't care that you didn't say you were devastated. We were annoyed, maybe more than annoyed on top of how livid we were over your crappy pitching, that you said you weren't devastated. It's not a fine difference.

Once a person has casually brought up his admirable work on behalf of aiding the youngest victims of a terrible disease, he makes us look small for questioning any of what we perceive as his shortcomings in something so silly (yet strangely so lucrative) as baseball and its attendant reactions. But we're not biting. You say you didn't sleep much after that final game? Welcome to the rest of us, T#m. We have families. We have concerns. We — surprise, surprise — have lives outside the Mets. Yet we were whatever it was you said you didn't say you were. And we weren't compensated lavishly for any of it.

Old news, old wounds at this point. My only real interest in invoking Gl@v!ne these days is to hope Johan Santana devastates him and his teammates Sunday afternoon. Still, with Friday night rain having given me the void in which to contemplate it clear into Saturday morning, I do wonder if it could have been different there at the finish.

How?

Alternate History 1:
T#m Gl@v!ne pitches valiantly, the Mets lose, 9/30/07
We write of him something like...
You can't blame Glavine for this. Maybe for the two previous starts, but he came through like the pro and the Hall of Famer he is Sunday and I appreciate him more now than I did when he won his 300th, when he beat the Dodgers and Cardinals last fall. Yes, his two previous starts were killers, but whatever happens now — even if he returns to, yeech, Atlanta — we and he can go in peace. It hasn't been for naught.

Alternate History 2:
T#m Gl@v!ne pitches brilliantly, the Mets win, 9/30/07
We write of him something like...
So that's why we signed Tom Glavine a half-decade ago. So that's why you invest in two Cy Youngs and 242 career wins. So that's why you cast aside a generation of enmity and hand someone like that the ball every five days for five years. So that's why we're going to Philadelphia Monday afternoon for a one-game playoff. So that's why so many of us were wrong about this man.

Alternate History 3:
T#m Gl@v!ne pitches as he did, reacts differently, 9/30/07
We write of him something like...
Glavine sucked, but at least owned up to it. Geez, I didn't think anybody could look worse than I feel right now, but he appears to have taken this debacle pretty hard. I don't know that it helps matters — no, actually, I do; it doesn't — but as a footnote, it doesn't hurt to know that at least one of these players understands the dimensions of a disaster like this. It's almost like Tom is bearing the burden for the rest of us. Maybe he wasn't Manchurian after all.

There are better things worth imagining.