By Jim Kelly Jr.

It was about as important of a series in July as you can get.

A few weeks ago the Mets, teetering on the brink of being out of the race for the NL East all together, went on a ten game run to vault them back into contention. Timely hitting and unhittable pitching surged the Mets right on the heels of the lagging Phillies and back at square one for the second half of the season. I was pleased. Still though the team acted like that cute girl you met at the bar who after a few drinks revealed she had two kids, lived with one of the fathers, and was still looking for true love; they had their share of flaws. It would be unreasonable to think that the Mets would win every game from here on till October, but it was clear that the tide has changed, and that the winning culture that had been gone for so long had finally returned to Queens.

Then the Phillies came to town.

Since the emergence of Rollins, Utley and Howard, the Philadelphia answer to Reyes, Wright, and Beltran, the Phillies have taken the role of the Braves and to a lesser extent the Yankees as the team Mets fans love to hate. That’s what happens when you’re the most comparable team in the division; whose players talk trash in the media and whose fans boo Santa. While in 2008 the Mets have beaten the Phils 9 out of 13 times, there still remains a nagging inclination, that the Phillies give the same feeling the Yankees and Braves used to give; every win is a battle, and a way to breathe easier for one more night. An it-ain’t-over-‘till-it’s-over feeling.

So of course after watching Johan Santana pitch his customary game of keeping the Mets close while he’s on the mound, I was more than a little worried when he didn’t come out to pitch the 9th inning Tuesday night. I don’t blame Jerry Manuel for pulling Johan as much as I blame pitch counts all together. (two points: 1. I think it’s customary for every color commentator in baseball who was a former player, especially pitchers, to sound off about how pitch counts are overrated and how in their day pitchers used to pitch 300 pitches everyday for 40 years until their arms detached. 2. You know when a pitcher is either very good or a massive part of your team, or both, when you call them by their first name the day they pitch. Saying “Johan’s pitching” or “Pedro’s pitching” carries a lot more meaning than saying John, Oliver, or Mike is pitching; everyone knows who you’re talking about, and everyone treats it as an event- plus it helps they’re unique names). I’m a firm believer in the fact that if a guy is pitching a heck of a game then you run him out there in the 9th until he allows a base runner, in which then you would immediately pull him. I know that managers are damned if they do and damned if they don’t in that situation, but if the guy’s stuff has worked for 8 innings it just might work for at least another out.

Billy Wagner (I wish someone would call him William) wasn’t available Tuesday night because of shoulder spasms, which sounds like his shoulder would flail about independently from his body, so of course the storyline was set for a meltdown at Shea.

Look, the Mets haven’t won the World Series in 22 years, the last one they were in they were crushed by the Yankees (the worst possible team for them to lose to), and the closest they’ve been since is the Beltran Knee Buckle of two years ago, so I won’t say I’m pessimistic when the Mets are in a big spot but I just like to take a wait and see if they can get three outs approach.

And they couldn’t.

The meltdown in the 9th left many Mets fans feeling the way they did PWS (Pre-Win Streak) , ready to trade half the bullpen and personally call the Rockies for Brian Fuentes. I had this exchange with my buddy PK, who was born and raised a Phillie Phanatic:

Me: We don’t have Billy for one night, and this happens
PK: laughs
Me: Jose can’t step on 2nd and this happens
PK: laughs
Me: Feliciano can’t transfer the ball from glove to hand, and this
happens
PK: you could guess what he was still doing, the smug bastard

With the Mets blunder being the lead in on Sportscenter and every other sports newscast you could almost feel a collective groan from Mets fans, as if this might set the tone for the series and a knee cap breaking sweep from the Phillies. Then Johnny Maine gives a solid outing capped off by Jose Reyes hitting a three run homer in the 6th and doing his best Manny Ramirez impression as he celebrated with one arm raised all the way around 2nd base. More than happiness I felt a sigh of relief after the win, as the Mets were back where they started and had left me wondering if Ollie could take the series the next day. More so I wondered why I was so wrapped up in a late July series anyways.

The 2008 season has been a kiddie rollercoaster ride, with many tiny hills and bumps and I-banged-my-knee-this-freaking-bar-is-too-tight-on-me thrills. Up and down since April. With the Phillies being the most formidable opponent, the Marlins not understanding that they aren’t supposed to win games, and the NL Central proving the Wild Card will belong to them, winning the East is the only way into the playoffs. And because the Mets aren’t cruising their way to a big enough lead in the division to either win it outright or squander it in 17 days, the tension is a little on the high side. This causes the Met fan to live and die by every game; to glorify each night’s hero and banish each night’s goat. The team went from down and out to right back in it in ten games, and any small setback might create a free fall back into Seven Games Back Misery Land.

Then in the rubber game Ollie Perez was vintage Ollie Perez- he was unexplainable. Perez has been nothing short of a head case during his tenure with the Mets, as he has the stuff to be dominant but lacks the consistency to put it all together. His pitching during the playoffs in ’06 was fantastic just as he is in every big game, but I’d rather take him as solid every time he goes out and consistent, rather occasionally spectacular and than pitching for his job a mere month ago. Six K’s by the 4th inning and pitching beautifully the Mets clung to a one run lead as I clung to the fact that Carlos Delgado hits better the greyer his goatee gets. Jamie “I could be David Wright’s dad” Moyer held the offense in check during the early start day game, but Perez not only matched him but ended up leaving the game in the 8th with 12 K’s. Enter Aaron Heilman, with his usual uncanny ability to make me change the channel, who miraculously gets a fly ball out to end a bases loaded threat.

This is where the team has brought me on board for the season. A guy like Perez, almost pitching out of the rotation last month, throws one of the best games in his career. A guy like Heilman, with all the promise in the world and still a near 5 ERA, getting out of a big jam in the 8th. A guy like Delgado, who’s bat speed had gone sluggish and beard is at a Just For Men all time high, getting the two RBI clutch hit the team needed so badly. And a guy like Wagner, who’s blown 6 saves this year but still commands a presence on the mound that isn’t nearly matched by anyone else in the pen. Game over, time to line up and slap hands to Takin’ Care of Business. The fire is back in them. Reyes with his arm held high, the team on the top steps of the dugout after every big hit, Wright fist pump crossing the plate for the go ahead runs- they’re back. The team that’s underachieved, or maybe never really was that good, is back in first and ready to sweat out the dog days of summer.

You can tell this team wants to win. Maybe it was the changing of the guard from the tightly wound Randolph, to the laid back Manuel. Maybe it was the spark plugs off the bench that picked up the offense when both corner outfielders went down. Or maybe it was just the team finally playing just like that- a team. Whatever it is, in a mere three games the group of high priced superstars and patchwork veterans went from the Panic Mode Mets, to the First Place Mets. Now it’s on to the resilient Cardinals and the rest of the NL race.

And as for that that cute girl you met at the bar who after a few drinks revealed she had two kids, lived with one of the fathers, and was still looking for true love; she might have a nice personality.