Rivera's act -- no matter how great -- not appreciated

PHILADELPHIA -- Mariano Rivera won't be MVP of the 2009 World Series because we're no longer impressed. The Yankees have a 3-1 lead over the Phillies, and Rivera has finished all three New York victories, including two saves -- most recently an easy-as-pie ninth inning Sunday night to close out a 7-4 victory in Game 4. He'll probably save the deciding game, whenever that comes, and after Rivera punches out the final Phillie, someone else will get the MVP. Probably Alex Rodriguez. Maybe Johnny Damon or CC Sabathia.

Rivera? He's not just old. He's old news. We've been there, and he's done that. So he's doing it again? Big deal. After Game 4, there were as many reporters around Damaso Marte as there were around Mariano Rivera. It was so absurd, I eased over to Marte's locker to see what was up. And what was up? Nothing. He had recorded a single out, and the success of a New York reliever not named "Rivera" was such a shock that it drew the media's attention. Pick up a paper today in New York and read all about it.

No, we're not impressed with Rivera. It's like being impressed with the sunset. Sure it's beautiful, and it's a marvel of nature, and nowhere in the universe could it be duplicated ... but here's the thing. We saw a sunset yesterday. And we'll see one tomorrow. So it happened today? Big freaking deal.

That's Mariano Rivera as he saves games in the World Series.

Big freaking deal.

Look, I'm not turning one little Damaso Marte Incident into a story here. This story, like most stories involving the Yankees' bullpen, is bigger than Damaso Marte. In addition to skulking around the perimeter of the Marte inquisition, I sat in on the postgame news conferences for all four Yankees from Game 4 who were brought to the media room: manager Joe Girardi, Rodriguez, Damon and Sabathia. They were asked a total 32 questions about the events of Sunday night, and not one of the questions was about Rivera. Nor, in any of those 32 answers, did one of those four Yankees bring up Rivera on his own.

The eight innings that led to the ninth, and even the top of the ninth itself, were thrilling. I'm not debating that. Damon manages a two-out single in the top of the ninth, then steals second, then keeps on going when he realizes nobody is covering third. Rodriguez hammers a double into the corner to score a run. Jorge Posada adds a two-run single, and all of a sudden a 4-4 tie is a 7-4 Yankees win.

Will you look at that? Now I'm doing it. I'm calling it "a 7-4 Yankees win," and that's not what it was. At that point, after the heroics by Damon and Rodriguez and Posada, it was a 7-4 Yankees lead. It wasn't a win, and it wasn't going to be a win, until someone finished off the Phillies in the bottom of the ninth. That someone was Rivera. If anyone cares anymore.

Not even Rivera seemed all that impressed with himself. He was ebullient about the New York offense. ("Those guys are the best," he said. "We've been in that situation many times, and most of the time, they respond.") He was enthusiastic about Damon. ("What a smart, smart play," he said.) He was even pleased with Marte ("I'm not surprised. He can be great," he said.)

But ask Rivera about himself, and he deflects the credit.

"Thank God," he said. "That's all I can say about that."

Rivera can thank whoever he wants, but if and when the Yankees finish off this World Series, they'd better thank their closer. And I'm not just talking about clunky setup man Joba Chamberlain, who picked up the "victory" Sunday after being unable to hold a 4-3 lead in the eighth inning. He surrendered a game-tying home run to Pedro Feliz, and then went from shell-shocked loner to a one-man hugging machine after the Yankees scored those three runs in the top of the ninth. No matter what happened from that point on, Chamberlain was off the hook, and he knew it. But he also knew this: He knew this game was over, because Rivera was walking to the mound.

All of Chamberlain's teammates need to get with the program, too. They've seen the devastation caused by an unreliable closer in the postseason, stealing victory from the jaws of defeat as they have against closers from Minnesota (Joe Nathan), Anaheim (Brian Fuentes) and now Philadelphia (Brad Lidge).

Mariano Rivera has converted 39 of 40 postseason save chances. (Getty Images)

I'm starting a new paragraph here because Rivera doesn't belong in the same sentence or paragraph with those guys. Those guys have been decent if not better, but Rivera has been one of the best two or three closers of all-time in the regular season -- and in the regular season he's Clark Kent compared to his October role of Superman. Here's all you need to know: Rivera has converted 39 of his 40 postseason save opportunities, and his playoff ERA of 0.76 is barely one-third of his career regular-season ERA of 2.25.

In other words, the competition is steeper in October. The stakes are higher. The pressure is thicker. And Rivera is roughly three times as good as he is from April to September.

And from April to September, he has been good enough over the years to become a first-ballot Hall of Famer.

So what do we do with him now, when he turns the postseason into an absolute joke? We pay a little more attention, for starters. We walk away from Damaso Marte and hang out near Mariano Rivera. We ask A-Rod and Johnny Damon about the comfort of knowing that a baseball game shrinks from nine innings to seven innings, eight tops, if the Yankees can scrape out just a one-run lead. And if we don't remember to ask Damon or A-Rod or Girardi about their closer, they can choose to give him a little credit on their own.

That's what we do with Mariano Rivera. We give him a little bit of damned respect.

And we give him the MVP of the 2009 World Series. Because this whole thing would look different if Rivera changed teams with Brad Lidge.