SECTION: SPORTS; Pg. 68 BLEACHER CREATURE

LENGTH: 620 words

HEADLINE: NO COFFEE STAINS HERE SEATTLE WILL BE PUT TO SLEEP SOON ENOUGH

BYLINE: BY FILIP BONDY

BODY:
NOW THAT THE dullest game of the season is done, a 2-0 sleeper that not espresso could awaken, let's get something straight: There is nothing less disturbing about Seattle's well-known addiction to caffeine than the Creatures' occasional bouts with alcohol.

Coffee kills sleep, and is the tool of management in squeezing productivity out of its exhausted workers. If Lenin were still around, he wouldn't be worried about opiates of the people anymore. He'd be more concerned with high-priced, fancifully-named stimulants at Starbucks, and the jangled nerves of Seattle's walking zombies. "When I think of Seattle, I think of those Priceline commercials with William Shatner and a bunch of coffee-drinking drifters and hooligans," Tom Brown was saying, as they slid open the gates to heaven and Section 39 yesterday at precisely 5:30 p.m.

"And everywhere you go in that town, you see that doofy mountain."

Seattle is one of those Pacific Northwest cities that has inexplicably benefited from a great deal of good publicity, possibly because it is so far away from New York that no TV cameras actually get out there to show the rain. We see distant shots of Mount Rainier, which may or may not even exist. We see backdrops of the waterfront and the coffeehouses on "Frasier," filmed mostly in Hollywood.

But now, we have sent them Patrick Ewing, and so we basically know they are every bit as miserable as we've been for the past 15 years.

"Waffle heads," Mike Donahue said, disparagingly, and nobody really knew what he was talking about.

Cartelli had some things to say about the Space Needle, and possible alternative uses for this odd piece of architecture. And then, the Creatures began to head into our bleachers, where we perform that voodoo that we do best.

The evening started ominously enough. First, Lucy Ramos noticed that Brown was carrying the evil New York Post under his arm, a mistake that, if repeated, will surely cost him future space in this column. Brown tossed the rag, looking guilty, but was unable to find a copy of America's favorite 32-page pullout section in the APSE Award-winning tabloid that regularly hosts the Creature.

Then two young women dressed as stuffed teddy bears walked into the bleachers carrying one of those pathetic please-put-me-on-TV signs, as in "Nobody Beats the Champs," as in NBC.

Clearly, these women thought they were entering the Picnic Area at Shea, where such behavior is greeted with endearing smiles and knowing nods. Their night at Yankee Stadium, however, was not going to end well.

"Maybe like 'Platoon,' the movie," Donahue said. And Brown hurried in after the Teddy Bears, just because he didn't want to miss the fun.

Before the game, the Yankees were still selling precious bleacher seats at the Stadium for $33, right through to Game 7. Fans started gobbling up these gems as soon as they were available.

Poor Tom Wilken, a kid from Ridgewood, Queens, was walking around River Ave. with a $61 general-admission ticket purchased earlier, nowhere near Section 39. He was looking to trade it straight up for a cheaper bleacher ticket.

And, of course, he was finding no takers, not under the No. 4 train tracks behind the Stadium.

The only time the Creatures willingly watch Yankee games from anywhere outside the bleachers is when the home team is on the road. Then, we gather together as a destructive party force in some poor sap's home or licensed establishment.

FOR CLINCHING Game 5 of the Oakland series, Tom's place in Queens was chosen as the host venue, then completely dismantled during the victory. Peanuts were coming out of the medicine cabinet, before we were done.

And the whole time, nobody was drinking coffee.

GRAPHIC: HOWARD SIMMONS DAILY NEWS CUP OF JOE Joe Torre enjoys Seattle's No. 1 export while chatting with Lou Piniella and Don Zimmer.

LOAD-DATE: October 11, 2000