by Bob Klapisch

So why does it feel like life was better for the Mets at the turn of the millennium, back in 2000 when a watered-down roster took a miracle season all the way to the World Series? Could it have been the manager, Bobby Valentine?

The question is relevant for two reasons. First, the Mets are (again) giving off mixed vibes about where they're headed in 2009; they're either poised to crush the Phillies when Jose Reyes and Carlos Delgado return, or else they're primed for another collapse, their third in three seasons.

Second, Valentine's ghost still hovers over the organization, in part because he's already been dismissed by the Chibba Lotte Marines, his current employers. The team announced months ago that Valentine wouldn't be back in 2010, fueling speculation that he'll be managing in the big league by next Opening Day.

Despite having fired him in 2002, Met ownership has no hard feelings toward Valentine. In fact, he and GM Omar Minaya remain close friends after a successful relationship in the late '80s with the Rangers, when Valentine was managing and Minaya was a scout.

Does that mean Valentine is next in line to succeed to Jerry Manuel? It depends on whether the Mets survive September, not to mention October. But there's no question a coup is coming if the Mets fail to catch the Phillies — starting with a new manager.

Bobby V.'s run in Japan is nearing an end. (Koichi Kamoshida / Getty Images)

For now, Valentine is too smart and too respectful to campaign for anyone's job in the major leagues, even if there are several scenarios where he could easily assimilate. Besides the Mets, the Yankees would be a possibility if Joe Girardi fails to get the Yankees to the postseason for the second year in a row. And Joe Torre has wondered out loud about retirement if he could go out with a championship in L.A., putting the Dodgers on Valentine's fantasy list, too.

To all this, Valentine says no thanks, not yet. But the problems with his Japanese bosses are real, and he's blunt in suggesting the Marines will miss him after he's gone.

"I really don't think they're going to say, "We made a mistake, we were only kidding (about the impending dismissal)," Valentine said. "You either appreciate what I've done here or you don't. And they don't."

Valentine has always been blessed with two unmistakable traits: his enormous charisma and that ability to eventually wear out his bosses. Both have been in play since he started managing in Japan in 2004. Valentine's Marines won the Pacific League pennant in 2005, their first in 31 years, and Valentine became the only foreigner to win the prestigious Shoriki Award for contributions to Japanese baseball.

The success has turned Valentine into a virtual rock star, as the team's fan club has grown by 600 percent to 140,000 members, according to the New York Times. The Marines' overall revenues are up by 400 percent.

News that this could be Valentine's last season in Japan has spurred an intense response from the fans, who started a petition that's grown to 100,000 signatures. For his part, Valentine has tried to stay out of the fray, saying, "What I've learned from experience is that there's no way an outsider can win the battle of words here."

Still, he admits, "this is a challenging situation," which has intensified, in part, because of his $3.9 million annual salary. In an attempt to cover ownership's true intentions — saving money — "auxiliary" higher-ups are now harpooning him.

General manager Tatsuro Hirooka said Valentine was being let go because he didn't understand Japanese baseball. Furthermore, the Marines says Valentine violated protocol by trying to sign a Korean player during the winter meetings — a charge he called "fraudulent" and "bogus."

"Look, there've been some budgetary constraints and I'm an expensive guy," Valentine said. "So the new guys (that ownership) hired miscalculated what was going on. They don't know the energy of the team, what we've done here. We've had revenues increase dramatically. We've had attendance increase. But then some people start to think, 'We could do this on our own. Why do we need a foreigner to do it?'

"They say, 'There's an old Japanese way to do things, so we revert back.' But you don't go back; when you do, you go backward."

Valentine isn't sure how this corporate struggle will end, but insists he'd like to remain in Japan. That's the irony of being labeled an outsider: Valentine feels more at home in the Far East than he did in Flushing, where he was locked in a to-the-death war with then GM Steve Phillips.

Phillips ultimately prevailed, convincing the Wilpon family to fire Valentine after the 2002 season. But no one at Citi Field seems to hold that against Valentine today, certainly not when it's apparent Phillips' dismissal was based on a personal dislike.

Valentine won't revisit the failed relationship with Phillips; he said he's learned the hard way about doing battle through the media, that it's a prophecy for bad karma.

Besides, Valentine is living proof that living well is the best revenge. Even if he doesn't get his job back, Valentine's résumé looks better today than it did in 2002 — which, we're betting, the Mets have already noticed.