THERE IS no worse place than this, Yankee Stadium, for Lou Piniella and the Mariners. There is no worse month than this, October, for Piniella and the Mariners. There is no worse team to play than this, the world champion Yankees, for Piniella and the Mariners.

October is the lefthanded Mantle rocketing one off the facade. October is Yogi lining one into the first row of seats over the short porch in right. October is Yogi leaping into Larsen’s arms. October is Whitey, the king of moxie and guile, working out of jams. October is Billy The Kid chasing that wind-blown popup. October is Reggie going going gone, going going gone, going going gone. October is Nettles making like Brooks. October is the ornery Munson refusing to lose. October is Goose glowering and throwing heat.

All these years later, October is Jeter shoveling the ball home, diving head over heels into the stands for a foul ball. October is O’Neill on bad wheels flipping the ball to Bernie so Bernie can keep a run from scoring. October is Pettitte pitching like a modern day Chairman of the Board. Mussina pitching like Catfish. October is merciless Mariano closing the deal.

And Piniella knows all this, because he was a part of it once. His guarantee following Game 2 and again yesterday – there will be a Game 6 in Seattle – was the act of a desperate man attempting to awaken his slumbering team. But understand this: Piniella is a dangerous opponent because he has plenty of Parcells in him.

If he has to, you know he will pick up first base today in the middle of some beef with the umpires and fling it towards the dugout, or heave bats out of the dugout, in an attempt to light a fire under a team that has looked so mesmerized by the Yankees that it apparently has forgotten about the 119 games it has won.

It is why the Yankees have to go for the jugular and finish the Mariners and not let them out of the Bronx Zoo alive so their jet-lagged legs do not have to fly back again across the country for a two-game series against a team that would suddenly believe. If the Yankee mystique has scared some of his players, some of his hitters especially, watch Piniella scare it out of them.

“We’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, no matter what happens,” Piniella was saying yesterday. “And uh . . . the Yankees, you know, they’ve got this mystique about ’em . . . I played here, I know. I played here for 11 years. And they’ve got this mystique about ’em and so forth, you’ve gotta overlook that, and you’ve gotta go out and play. You can beat ’em if you play. But you’ve gotta play against ’em. And you’ve gotta do the things that you need to win baseball games.”

He wanted the national media to hear that and his team to hear that as well. And this: “Seattle has been in baseball now 25 years and I’d like to see the city of Seattle, our fans and our organization, feel the same thing that this organization has tasted. “And [Thursday night] when I talked, I talked out of my heart, I talked out of pride and passion, but at the same time a little frustration . . . We need to get to this next level, and this year here, we’ve got a chance, let’s go for it and whatever happens happens.”

A couple of minutes later Piniella was asked this question: How do you get past the Yankee mystique?

“You go out and beat ’em, that’s how you do it,” Piniella said defiantly. “There’s no other way. You can talk about it; you’ve gotta go out and do it.

“And it can be done. It really can.”

These aren’t the Bronx Bombers. They are The Professionals. The Pinstriped Winning Machine. “The hunger is still there,” Scott Brosius said. Piniella gives the ball to Jamie Moyer today. Joe Torre gives it to El Duque, who wore his 2000 world championship ring to the interview room.

“The champions never want to lose their title,” El Duque said, “and this way we remind ourselves we’re the champions and we don’t want to give it up.”

October is El Duque too. Time to put Sweet Lou away.