Enjoy Yourself

What do you think?

I think you're going to enjoy yourself tonight.

—Toby and C.J., “Game On”

Just like that, the Mets are a sight to see again. They are the main attraction, to say nothing of the Maine attraction, of the National League. They are bigger than Merengue Night (against which I no longer carry a grudge, at least not from my couch). They are 10-4 since the last time they were spectacularly inept. They're 20 over for the first time this season. They're 13 ahead of nobody in particular. And they're not coasting. If anything, they're rounding into that montage — you need a montage! — portion of Major League in which they do everything right…except they're already in first place.

It won't get aired as a Mets Classic, but given the choice, wasn't this the kind of game you'd like to see over and over again? Most years, you only see it in your dreams. This year, we see it right in front of our eyes on a fairly recurring basis.

What's not to like?

You like pitching? You have to like quasi-emergency mudder John Maine, who in his first three starts had surged from outta his league to outta gas to outta luck. Friday night, fourth start, outta this world. Great command. Very good stuff. The Astros, who have a nasty habit of waking from first-half snoozes, remained asleep at the plate. If the Maine trajectory continues as such, it'll be Orioles fans cursing the Kris Benson trade as useless and uncalled for.

You like defense? Jose Valentin made an early excellent play up the middle to dampen Houston's expectations before they could be generated. Cliff Floyd scaled a wall and nabbed a homer off legendary no-hit spoiler Chris Burke. Carlos Beltran and Paul Lo Duca (with an assist from Carlos Delgado's bowlegged stance) teamed to nail Eric Munson on one of the dopiest (down 0-7 with two out) tagups I've ever seen with one of the funnest throws, blocks and tags the sport has to offer.

How about hitting? Valentin has mastered the bases-loaded home run. Reader Sean Quigley points out Jose was born* on October 12, 1969 — the same day the Mets won their first World Series game ever. I guess, then, we can stop being surprised that we became his destiny; he was clearly meant to be a Miracle Met (even if there's no truth to the rumor that his full name is Jose Koosman Clendenon The Glider Valentin). And Mr. Delgado, he's emerging from slumpdom one powerful swing at a time.

It was a night for little things to happen as they should. A neighborhood play that was too blatant to be allowed wasn't, which set up Valentin's grand slam. The run that didn't score on a homer was the result of littlish ball: double, efficient groundout, liner to center. Just before Delgado's dinger, Beltran put his head down and hustled to third when other Mets in other times would have stopped at second. The manager was either brilliant or intuitive enough to keep El Duque out of the rain. That might not pay off Saturday, with more moisture in the forecast, but it sure cashed out handsomely Saturday. And Maine was allowed to finish what he started, and he finished with flair. The game was over around 10:15, which is astounding considering rain stopped it from starting until after eight.

Last year, I blanched every time the Mets strung together two wins because the temptation to read into it a roll was too overwhelming. The Mets of 2005 along with any of the hopeful editions that preceded them had a way of tentatively teasing then decisively disappointing. The Mets of 2006, at this juncture, clearly lack that capability. It is such a joy to partake in a baseball feast like tonight:

• We demolish the barely defending National League champions.

• The Braves get tangled up in the Phillies, though I confess I have a hard time telling them apart.

• E-Rod provides more enjoyable highlight reel material; the Blue Jays should designate Shea Hillenbrand for assignment more often.

If Maine and Pelfrey are as pitchy keen as they seem to be and if Pedro recoalesces into one piece and Omar doesn't do more than check his caller ID for the next ten days…well, I think I'm going to enjoy myself for many nights to come.

*Weirdly, Orlando Hernandez's birthdate, which nobody believes, is October 11, 1969, the same day the Mets lost their first World Series game ever. And Hernandez's replacement as starting pitcher on July 21, 2006 was John Maine, born May 8, 1981, making him the third Met to enter the world on a day when I attended a Mets game. The other two are Richard Hidalgo (July 2, 1975, recently immortalized with the help of another loyal FAFIF reader) and the last player Art Howe will ever manage unless someone can't hire Dave Bristol, Joe Hietpas (May 1, 1979). Some slow night, I'll weave all of this together, but right now it weaves well enough alone.