If I were Kenny, I'd wear a bulletproof vest for the next couple of days. Granted, that won't protect him from the back pages of the tabloids, "Vinny from Queens," or any other unemployed Mets fan that will undoubtedly call for his head on WFAN every day until he's gone.

He deserves it. He deserves it because the Braves should not be playing for the World Championship-- they should be back home in Atlanta making tee times and building a giant cage for John Rocker.

The Mets made fools of the Braves in Games Four, Five and Six, showing a passion, intensity and desire to win that Bobby Cox and his thugs were unable to match.

Starting with John Olerud's two-run single in the bottom of the eighth on Saturday night, the Mets were the Austin Powers of the postseason--stuck in 1969 with full control of their mojo.

When will any baseball fan ever forget the image of Melvin Mora and Roger Cedeno leaping into each other's arms behind home plate, with Rocker watching angrily from the mound? You know you smiled.

It didn't matter that no team had ever rebounded from a three-zip deficit.

"Someday, somebody's going to do this," Valentine said after the game, and we had every reason to believe that it was going to be the Mets' year.

Then there was Sunday's epic Game Five, which will go down in history as one of the greatest postseason baseball games ever played.