So in case you didn’t know by now (because you’ve been clearly living under a rock), the Phillies won the World Series last night for the second time in its 126-year history!I ended up going to Amateur Night at the Apollo and up until the last minute I contemplated heading out early to catch the game. Instead, I settled for an hour of good and God-awful entertainment and a second hour of bugging my friend Heidi to check the score on her iPhone. Mr. First also kept me updated with his texts (he was very nervous, btw).
The game picked up where it left off Monday night – 6th inning and tied 2-2. Then the Phillies scored a hit and the Rays tied it shortly after. When the show finally ended at 9:30 pm, the Phillies led 4-3 in the 8th inning. I just had to watch them win this thing, but there was no way I’d get home in time!
I said goodbye to the girls and sped off. I called him as I walked to the train station.
“Is it over??”
“No, it’s the 8th inning.”
“I’m not gonna make it. There’s no way I’ll make it.”
“Just find a bar!”
“I’m in HARLEM! I don’t know any bars here!”
By the time I got to the train station I knew what to do. I took the train two stops uptown to a neighborhood bar I knew would be showing the game. I dashed to one of the TV’s and there it was: top of the 9th, Rays up to bat, no outs. One guy managed to make a hit, run to first and later steal second. I held my breath when the last man came up. If by any chance he hit a homer, the Rays would be in the lead and possibly drag this back to Tampa.
Strike 1, ok, come on…
Strike 2, the anticipation builds…
STRIKE 3!!
The pitcher and catcher run in for a hug and soon all the players are running in to join them at the mound creating one huge pile of ecstatic Phillies. Like Jimmy Rollins said, the drought is over.
I just stood there staring at the TV, giddy and smiling. The volume was off and there was only a small group watching, but I wanted to take in the moment. I know I shouldn’t be celebrating; I haven’t suffered for a lifetime for this team (the first and only time they won the series was in 1980), but I’m mostly happy for those fans who got what they’d been waiting for.
After I passed by dad’s store (whooping and hollering and jumping around) and headed over to mom’s (for more of the same), Mr. First called to make sure I got home ok and wasn’t swinging from the light bulbs in drunken stupor.
“I’m good now,” he said. “I just wanted one of the Philly teams to win something and then to have it be my favorite team…”
And to have it for his 25th birthday, too? Yeah, he’s happy. So am I.
The parade is tomorrow and I just requested the day off. And then for Halloween night, I’ll be decked in red. How appropriate :)
P.S. World Series MVP? Cole Hamels.
Image: nytimes.com
