It’s the images of heroes and goats. It’s the taste of champagne and the taste of tears. It’s the mob on the pitcher’s mound and the silence of the opposing dugout. It’s remembering the past and creating new memories for the future.

It could only be one thing. It’s America’s game and it’s the post season.

It’s Bobby Thompson, Reggie Jackson, Kirk Gibson, Joe Carter, Carlton Fisk and Kirby Puckett —the images of the long ball.

It’s Don Larsen — the images of perfection. It’s Dave Stewart — the images of near-perfection.

It’s the Cubs — the lack of fall images. It’s the Braves and Yankees — the abundance of post-season images .

It’s Vince Coleman — the images of the man-eating tarp. It’s Bill Buckner — the images of the bone-head play.

It’s Paul Molitor — just simply the image of baseball. (And something about being the only player to collect five hits in a World Series game in 1982 and the World Series Most Valuable Player in 1993.)

What could the post-season be this year?

It could be Ken Griffey Jr. or Tino Martinez or Barry Bonds —new images of the long ball.

It could be Greg Maddux — new images of perfection.

It won’t be the Cubs — images of a pathetic baseball team are nowhere to be found in October.

It could be Cal Ripken Jr. — new, painful images of the tarp and the unfortunate end of the streak.

It will be Paul Molitor — astrological images (because the world revolves around him and not the sun.)

What do I think this year’s post-season will bring?

With the Baltimore Orioles, Seattle Mariners, New York Yankees and Cleveland Indians playing in the American League — expect home runs every third batter, scores that resemble football games, stolen bases only by anyone who can’t hit the long ball, a sacrifice bunt every leap year, a few great pitchers and an occasional player who brings a leather glove to the diamond.

With the Atlanta Braves, San Francisco Giants, Florida Marlins and Houston Astros competing in the National League — expect home runs once in a blue moon, scores that resemble soccer games, stolen bases by anyone with two legs, a sacrifice bunt every other batter, outstanding pitching and steady defense.

I think the postseason will bring a World Championship for the Mariners and more humiliation for the Braves. A five- or seven-game series, loads of offensive weapons and a pitcher named Randy “W.T.” Johnson add up to the first World Series title for the great northwest.

But it’s baseball, which means one thing: the only thing you can count on is that it will be unpredictable.

So sit back, grab a beer or two, grill a brat or two and be prepared to be in awe once or twice.

As I said, it’s baseball. It’s America’s game. And it’s unpredictable.

But there’s one thing I know for sure. You will see something you will be able to tell your grandkids about.

“It was amazing,” you’ll say. “It was the bottom of the ninth. Two men were out. The count was three balls and two strikes. They were down by one with a runner on first. It was a fastball, and he took a big swing…”