Phinally: The Victory In Three Acts

Well, the Phillies pretty much suck right now, and it’s given me the occasion to think back on brighter days (has it really only been six years?). So let’s take a quick break from the doldrums of this 25-36 season (which comes by way of losing their last eight out of ten games, btw) and remember what it was like to feel differently about this team. Here’s a post I composed shortly after the Phillies won The Series. Still brings a tear to my eye…

Twenty Pounds Of Headlines...


Act I: Purgatory

It was a cold, wet Tuesday morning, and by the tone of his e-mail I could tell my friend Red Dog was not yet convinced. He needed some prodding.

I watched the slick, fast, frenzy of October’s rain prick the windows of my office, thinking about the purgatory of the situation. Of the night before when the entire city of Philadelphia seemed poised for a delirious rebirth. Of the men and women walking through Old City to their favorite watering holes clad in red and white and pale blue. Of their eyes looking to that place in the distance where victory whispered its seductions. Of the slate sky. Of the pints of beer we all consumed through five-and-a-half soaked innings of senseless hope. Of the clinical tarp eventually covering the field. Of the cruel Doppler Radar, flashing. And of each of us—the men with their clenched…

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