Phinally!!

Dedicated to my father and my father's father. Thank you both for your love of the Phils.

So I don't know how many of you are following the sports world these days, but if you haven't been, I'm excited to tell you that last night, the Philadelphia Phillies won the World Series for the first time in 28 years! I know many of you could probably care less about baseball and/or the Phillies (and I could name a few of you right now) and I'm cool with that, but this is a big deal for me, okay?

I've grown up a Philadelphia sports fan all my life. It's its own culture. The people. The smells. Veterans Stadium. Cheesesteak. Broad Street. 610 WIP sports radio. Booing Santa Claus. Throwing batteries. Eye of the Tiger. The 700 level. The Crazies. Chickie and Pete's...

Unless you are a Philadelphia fan, it's impossible for me to describe to you what all these experiences are like, especially from Mexico. But what I can tell you, is that the city and its fans are passionate about its sports and passionate about winning. We'll rally around anything and everything in the City if we think it's got a chance. But before last night, the last time the city of Philadelphia crowned a champion was 25 years ago in 1983. This however, was before I was born, so I had never experienced a great moment in Philadelphia sports. The Eagles, close. The Sixers, haha. The Flyers, heck no. St. Joes, made a good run. Villanova, never had a chance. Smarty Jones (this is a horse by the way)...2 outta 3 ain't bad, just not quite enough. You get my point.

Anyway, baseball was my first love and the Phillies were my team. I began playing when I was 3 years old and like many other little boys who played baseball, I wanted to be a pro baseball player when I grew up. Ever seen the movie The Sandlot? That was me. Baseball was life. In 1993, the Philadelphia Phillies were good. They made the World Series. I was 7 years old.

It's funny what you remember from when you were 7 years old. I don't remember much. I don't remember what gifts I got for Christmas. I don't remember what I got for my birthday. I don't remember who my friends were in school. I don't remember my favorite toy and I don't remember family vacation. I pretty much don't remember anything.

But what I do remember is the '93 Phillies. I can name the entire starting lineup. Dykstra, Daulton and Kruk, these guys were all my heroes. It was a magical season and yet, it ended with disappointment. I remember who I was with, exactly where I was sitting and the atmosphere in my grandparent's living room after Joe Carter, of the Toronto Blue Jays, hit the game 6 winning, World Series winning, homerun. I cried.
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I found it quite ironic that the next time the Phillies should make the World Series, 15 years later, I was stuck in Mexico, in a country that could really care less about my Philadelphia Phillies, let alone "beisbol".

However, with the Phillies up 3 games to 1 in the Series, I knew game 5 was something I didn't want to miss. In fact, this realization came to me in the middle of class on Monday. I ran back to Casa Hogar after class and told Ben the urgent news: I had to watch the Phillies. Asking around to see if any restaurants in Mante might carry the game , it was finally decided that this would be too much of a hassle. Instead, Ben and I were invited to travel with Alma, a teacher I work with in the school, to her house to watch game 5. So, for the first time in our 7 weeks here, Ben and I took the bus and a taxi to her house. It was sweet. Upon arrival, we were showered with good ol' hospitality (something we are learning to love), ate popcorn, drank Coke, walked down her lovely little street, purchased some corn on the cob (smothered in parmesean cheese I might add) and watched the first half of game 5 entirely in Spanish. It was a really fun evening. Ben got a little antsy towards the middle of the game, so he left with Alma's nephew, Alejandro, and the two of them went off and watched some Catholic dancing festival out in the street. Only in Mexico.

Rains fell in Philly and delayed the Series until yesterday, when Ben and I again took the opportunity to travel to Mante and watch the rest of game 5. This time, we took different rides into town and rendevoused at Laura's house. Now Laura is another teacher I work with in the school. She lives with her husband, her mother and all four of her children, one of which is married and has two kids. Their house is busy, yet filled with so much history and love. Before the game started, Ben and I had some extra time to kill, so we walked around Mante for a couple hours (we're really beginning to feel like locals) and did some general exploration. We ran into people we know and we talked with people we didn't know. It was fun. And once again, upon returning to Laura's house, we were lavished with hospitality and fed extremely well, as we sat there, in this quaint, warm Mexican home, with people we hardly know, watching the Phillies win the 2008 World Series.

Two pretty stinkin' sweet evenings.

As I've gotten older I've realized that sports certainly aren't everything, they just aren't. But one thing I really appreciate about them, is the incredible force they have in bringing people together. Even for some Mexicans and a couple gringos.

Thank you Phillies.