But they will go on, because that is what they have done all season.
They are the ones coming home alive, back to Shea to open the NLCS on Wednesday against the winner of the Cardinals-Padres series. The Yankees are coming home to face a firing squad consisting of one deadly sniper, George M. Steinbrenner III.
And that is as it should be, because right now, not only are the Mets the better ballclub, they are a truer reflection of the city they represent than the current Yankees could ever be.
The Mets are as diverse as the city itself, with a homegrown black manager in Willie Randolph, a homegrown Dominican GM in Minaya, two homegrown infield talents, one Latin, one white, in Jose Reyes and David Wright, and a Jewish rightfielder in Shawn Green.
And they have a loyal, subway-riding, mostly blue-collar fan base that has yet to be displaced by the front-running limousine crowd that has overrun Yankee Stadium since 1996.
The Yankees are the privileged New York of Rudy Giuliani and Donald Trump and Billy Crystal and Goldman Sachs, the exclusive New York that can always get a table at Elaine's or Rao's.
They are Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera and a mismatched band of outrageously paid mercenaries who haven't produced. Their lineup is a gaudy collection of freelancers who have never jelled into a true team, their clubhouse devoid of camaraderie.