See the Pyramids along ... River Avenue.

This, or something like it, is what I tell friends and family who are in crisis over what's looking like the Yankees' 27th World Series title.

Rather than give them the Borg line that "resistance is futile," I tell them that they don't have to dress in Pinstripes, or pledge allegiance to George III, or go around like Freddie, the nutcase with the tin skillet and the spoon. I tell them that they should look upon the Yankees as an Eighth Wonder of the World, a monument that -- like the Pyramids -- is part muscle, part money and part mystery.

If I knew Korean, I would tell that to Byung-Hyun Kim.

In our double profile of Mariano Rivera and Kim in the latest issue of The Magazine, Mark Grace is quoted comparing Kim to Wild Thing, Mitch Williams. But you got the sense that Games 4 and 5 weren't really Lil' Kim's fault. He was just the vessel through which flowed the inevitability of the outcome. Two runs down, two out, man on in the 9th. Of course, Tino would hit a game-tying homer in Game 4. Of course, Scotty would hit a game-tying homer in Game 5. (Sitting in the upper deck in left field, right above where Brosius' homer landed, I felt a two-fold awe: Man, the Yankees are amazing, and Boy, I hope the girders aren't amazed by this swaying.)

The Yankees have become so predictably miraculous that I am kicking myself over a forecast I made last week. I incorrectly projected that Chuck Knoblauch would be the first Mr. November. He wore No. 11, after all, and he occupied the same psychic place in Yankeedom as November does on the calendar: useful but too little appreciated. I really thought he'd be a big hero in Game 5, the first World Series game to start in November. And he was.

What I didn't count on was that Game 4 would end in November. Had I thought about it, had I played out the fourth game to its obvious denouement, I would have seen it coming, just as surely as Jeter saw that 3-2 slider from Kim coming in the 10th. For one thing, Jeter is No. 2, which equals 1 + 1. For another, November 1 is All Saints Day, and there's no Yankee closer to canonization than St. Jeter.

Things work out so perfectly for the Yankees that I sometimes wonder if Bob Sheppard is more than just the voice of God.

That said, I also appreciate what the Diamondbacks are doing. This thing is far from over, with Randy and Curt starting Games 6 and 7. The D-Backs have certainly shown more spine than the NL wusses who faced the Yankees the last three years. Miguel Batista, Brian Anderson, Rod Barajas -- who outside of the 602 area code knew these guys could actually play? Even Bob Brenly's decision to bring back Kim, after he threw 61 pitches and the game-tying and game-winning homers the night before, showed some huevos.

'Course, if Brenly really wanted to do something daring, he would have brought in The Unit to pitch the 9th inning of Game 4, with O'Neill and Martinez coming up and not much righthanded firepower on the Yankee bench. By taking such a risk -- on Johnson's regular day to throw on the side -- Brenly might have been able to derail the inevitable.

This Series has been so entertaining, so sublimely exhausting, that a Game 7, Schilling vs. Clemens matchup, seems preordained. At that point, it won't matter who wins. We'll be in awe of an even bigger wonder than the Yankees. Namely, baseball.

Steve Wulf is executive editor of ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at steve.wulf@espnmag.com.