What will I remember about this afternoon’s game, which gave the Phils a 2-0 in the National League Championship Series?
- I’ll remember that Brett Myers pitched just well enough but, startlingly, had three hits (and three RBIs) of his own.
- I’ll remember how the Phillies, with two outs, managed in the second inning to score four runs on five hits (without a home run).
- I’ll remember a helluva catch by centerfielder Shane Victorino to end a two-out threat by the Dodgers in the seventh inning.
- I’ll remember Manny Ramirez’s three-run, fourth-inning homer, which closed a six-run lead to three. I’ll remember that the hometown fans, who’d relaxed just a bit, tensed up.
- I’ll remember that it was unseasonably warm, like a June day—and almost too sunny for the first hour.
- I’ll remember how Brad Lidge got in a little bit of a jam, again, in the ninth inning, only to end the game with a strikeout of Nomar Garciaparra.
- But, mostly, I’ll probably remember the two guys sitting next to us (in Section 105, in the outfield)—how they fretted and yelled; how they hugged whenever anything good happened; how they spilled four (four!) beers, causing me to smell like hops; how one studiously ignored me, while the other slapped me (hard!) on the back and good-naturedly tried to high-five me; how one yelled at a Dodgers-jersey-wearing fan “not to dress like a fag,” when he had gay men sitting on both his right and his left; how they were horrifying, and yet intriguing, to me.
What will I regret about this afternoon’s game?
- I’ll regret that I didn’t high-five enough strangers, or even the buddy who joined me.
- I’ll regret that I didn’t start the game with a roast pork sandwich from Tony Luke’s.
- I’ll regret that I didn’t wear shorts. (How many more chances will I get this year, anyway?)
- But, mostly, I’ll probably regret that I didn’t purposely spill beer back on my crazy neighbors, apologizing for being a “clumsy fag.” Or slip one, or both, of them my phone number.
Final score: 8-5.
Congrats to you and your Phillies. I was thinking about you throughout the series.
I had gotten the impression from interviews with Lidge earlier in the season that he holds a grudge toward the Astros. But I hope he now realizes it was the best thing. Pujols was totally in his head as an Astro; going to another team allowed him to leave behind the demons. We also suspect he had somehow begun tipping his hand on his pitches and, when he arrived in Philly, your pitching coach told him, “Here’s what everybody had figured out …”
Hey, thanks for the good wishes, Steve. I’m pretty psyched about this, of course. I’m 42 years old, and I sort of feel like this is the Phils’ one shot at, er, Greatness™ during my lifetime. Small exaggeration. Maybe.
I was a KC Royals fan in 1985 (and still am, actually), but this is different: I’ve been on-the-scene for pretty much the whole season.
When we traded for Lidge, I wondered what we were thinking. He seemed, um, used-up. But you’re right: The Phillies were either lucky or brilliant about his pitching….