Seattle ROCKETS WERE bursting in air and the Mariners were hugging each other and tumbling at the plate in joy, and the sound system was trumpeting "That's the way, uh-huh, we like it." And Don Mattingly paused a moment in his grief at the mouth of the tunnel to the clubhouse to pat some consolation onto Jack McDowell and a handful of teammates.

"I didn't want to watch it all," Mattingly said. "But I was proud of our guys."

The equipment truck was standing outside the door to the clubhouse, waiting to take the Yankees' 5-4 victory on to Cleveland and now there was a 6-5 defeat to pack home. It was a stunning series that wrenched each team back and forth and up and down and it was over.

"I think we're the better team," Mattingly said, being the ballplayer. "Obviously, they think they are."

After a long and noble career and the designation as the man who had never been to a postseason game, he had some memories and images that would last a long time. "It was everything I felt it would be," he said, sitting in front of his locker, signing mementos for teammates and for himself. "Except losing," he said.

If this was the end of Mattingly's time in New York, the conclusion of his fading light, then he made something out of it. He had a terrific series. He had 10 hits in 24 at-bats (.417); he had four doubles and a home run and six RBI.

He'll remember coming to bat against Andy Benes, when the game was there to be turned, in the sixth inning last night with the score tied at 2 and the bases filled and rapping a double down the leftfield line to give David Cone a 4-2 lead.

They had a lead to protect and then the Mariners, refusing to lose, wrenched back the tie. And then the Yankees took a 5-4 lead in the top of the 11th, and then there were the Mariners refusing to lose in the bottom of the 11th.

He wasn't feeling for the ball, he was slashing at it. Instead of taking what he was given by the pitchers, he was taking what he wanted and driving the ball. He had siezed the moment.

"He's going after the ball like I haven't seen in years," said one prominent Yankee admirer who preferred not to be identified.

Buck Showalter was talking last night about the ball Edgar Martinez hit for his first home run of Game 4, a pitch that pitchers believe can only be pulled foul. Martinez managed to turn his body, still keep the head of the bat back and lined a home run just inside the leftfield foul pole. Showalter said he'd seen Paul Molitor do that, and Donnie. He meant, Donnie in his day, of course. That was when Mattingly could hit a bolt over the fence in left-center, which is unimaginable now.

Saturday night Mattingly had two singles and two doubles, one of them on a headlong slide to beat a throw that had him beat.

For the length of the Yankees' comeback in September, it appeared that Mattingly had one good swing every day, one moment when he asked the ropes and wires of his aching back to hold up for another day. For this week there has been no tomorrow. "If he swung like that all season," the admiring professional said, "he'd end up in traction."

He was going to love it as long as it lasted. And then when it was over, he had some images lingering in his mind as he tried to console himself with pride. "Obviously, it's painful," he said, the glare grease still smeared beneath his eyes. Perhaps it was smudged from wiping a tear.

"I'm awfully proud. Basically that's what I feel like. Both teams had to play great down the stretch to get here."

Fittingly, he hit a home run on the last day of the season when the Yankees clinched their wild card. It was his home run at Yankee Stadium that got the cerebrally challenged fans throwing trash on the field. He has touched them in his time with the Yankees. He had touched the Mariners' fans, too. They booed the Yankees in the lineup introductions the way fans do today, but they applauded Mattingly as a worthy opponent the way fans seldom do these days.

He had his memories to cherish, and then he had the dark images of failure that the best of athletes always carry with them. "I'm sure you always remember," he said. "I remember stuff from high school when we lost. I'm sure I'll always remember."

He'll remember reaching and straining for Joey Cora, leading off the Seattle 11th with a beautiful bunt along the first-base line. Mattingly had to wait for the ball and lunge. At the moment Mattingly swept for the tag, Cora sidestepped in the basepath. The umpire said it was legal.

Lethal was what it was with those hitters up next. "What we talked about before the game was not leaving anything at all out there," he said. "We went out talking about not leaving anything at all."

His hand hadn't lost its skill in the field. Saturday night he made a fine catch and sweep tag of the runner on a rare off-line throw from Wade Boggs. He made a typical play for a baserunner who rarely makes a mistake, jolting second baseman Cora when he tried to begin a double play by tagging Mattingly.

What Mattingly recalled was his mistake in trying to tag Cora when he bunted and wasn't called out for running out of the baseline. Mattingly should have simply flipped to the base.

When Randy Velarde tried, as Cora did, to tag the runner and Luis Sojo halted, Velarde made a rushed throw to first. Mattingly then threw in the dirt even though he had no target at second. It cost a run. For a moment he lost his poise.

"That's the only things I'd do differently, those decisions," he said.

And there was the moment in Game 3 that will have its own life in Mattingly's memory. It was the chance to do something against Randy Johnson, whose presence put Boggs and Paul O'Neill on the bench. Mattingly played, his lefthanded bat against the wickedly lefthanded Johnson. The Yankees had the bases full in the sixth, a chance to take the lead and maybe get Johnson out of the game. Johnson threw three sliders, each one snapping a little farther outside and low. Mattingly struck out.

He struck out three times. Johnson struck out 10. Once the Mariners got the lead, the Yankeees never had a chance against him. There was no voice in the mournful silence of the clubhouse - no music, no TV - until Mattingly stood up. "Forget about it," he said. "It's over. We're going to come back tomorrow."

He'd never reached the playoffs in the time he appeared headed for Cooperstown. He made the most of what he had left in Seattle. And when it was over, he said he never thought about the finality of it.

"Oh, I don't know," he said. "I'll find out." Steve Jacobson

Copyright 1995, Newsday Inc.