Man, I cannot wait. A few notes about the Phils to get you in the mood:
With all of this talk about the 100-0 game last week, I thought I should turn it over to you guys. Please post below your most humiliating loss or the most humiliating loss your school had. I was on Bobby’s Little League baseball team, the one that gave up 39 runs in the first inning. We went 0-15 that year, and never lost by less than 10. But there was one game when we were up in the last inning when the umpire called it off due to rain with two outs, so we had to replay the whole game and lost the replayed game 15-1. I also played on a terrible JV basketball team. We lost to Central Middle School 72-7. I remember that I led the team in scoring that day with 3 points. We also lost to Arcadia’s JV team, 57-4. Then there was the Rock Academy team, a supposedly Christian school that kept the full court press on the whole game and beat us 93-25. We played them again a few months later on our home court and held a 48-46 lead with 5 seconds left to play. Then a kid who hadn’t played for them when they beat us by 68 hit a 3 pointer at the buzzer to beat us, 49-48. That was probably my most devastating loss.
Let’s not kid ourselves. Yesterday was a disaster. The Cardinals simply came in with an amazing game plan, and the Eagles were playing catch up all game. There’s not much I can say that hasn’t already been said, but I’ve got a few thoughts:
JC Romero is getting absolutely screwed by Major League Baseball. I mean, screwed like few athletes have ever been. After taking a supplement he got over the counter from Vitamin Shoppe, he tested positive for steroids, though even MLB acknowledges that he didn’t use them. But with a reactionary zeal that make the Salem Witch Trials look fair and balanced, MLB has decided to suspend him for 50 days. Baseball offered him the opportunity to only serve 25 games if he admitted guilt, but he didn’t because he didnt’ do anything wrong. Way to go baseball. Way to teach kids that if they don’t cow down to authority their punishment will be doubled, even if they don’t do anything wrong. This is so unbelievablty stupid it defies belief. Could you imagine how great baseball would be if it were run by people with an IQ over 30? If you’re interested, you can call the commissioner’s office at 212 931-7800.
I think that “Tying the Bengals” has a certain ring to it. It reminds me a lot of “jumping the shark”, except in sports. “I thought the Patriots really tied the Bengals when Tom Brady got hurt.” It also reminds me of “biting the big one”, like going to a bad show and then saying, “Boy that one really tied the Bengals.” Or dying. “You hear about Tony? Yeah, that poor son of a bitch tied the Bengals last night.” I like the concept of “Tying the Bengals” becoming a cliche phrase. What should it mean?
At 4:15 a.m. on Thursday morning, after a night of partying and celebration following the Phils World Series win, I finally climbed into the back of a cab, left alone with my thoughts. I thought of the countless hours I had spent with friends watching this team for the last several years. The cheering, the yelling, the frustration and the excitement. The pounds on the back and the stares of disbelief. I thought of Frank, still one of my best friends, pitching against us on a cold opening day of Little League in 1987 with a coat on. I remembered my Senior League team, trying to rush through our championship game so we could get to the movies. I thought of the friends I had been gathering to watch the playoffs with, friends I don’t really discuss feelings with, but whom I love and who love me. I thought of the joy that these Phillies had played with for the last couple of years, of the constant fists pumping or hands clapping after every single double. I thought about how much this must mean to Jamie Moyer, in the league for so long and finally winning a title. I thought of ants and rubber tree plants. I thought of how I moved here almost exactly 7 years ago, and how good this city’s been to me since. I thought of my friends who had talked earlier in the night about recently losing their fathers, the men they had listened to Harry the K on the porch with, and how this World Series victory brought those memories alive. I thought of my father, whom I had excitedly called at around 11:30 earlier in the night. And even though I woke him up on a work night, he told me how glad he was to hear from me. I thought of the catch we had played in backyard so many years ago. I thought of Steve, the volunteer coach in my neighborhood who is on the baseball field down the street from myself seemingly every minute of every day, trying to help young kids learn the game of baseball. I thought of my Little League coach, Mr. Turner, who had turned us around in three years from an 0-15 band of misfits to champions of the league (Incidentally, that’s me, 3rd from right, top row. And I can still name every kid on that team and what position they played.). I thought of all of the strangers I had hugged and high-fived over the previous years at the ballpark, people whose names I never got, but with whom I shared a brief but wonderful slice of joy with. I thought of all these things as I rode in that cab in the wee hours of the morning. And I cried like a baby.
Makes Buck and McCarver look like Sarah Palin and Miss Teen South Carolina. And oh by the way, you gotta check out Wheels’ reaction to Strike 3. Priceless.
