On Joy
For a long time, all there was was this...
It sustained us --- it had to, because it was all we had, for twenty eight years, until tonight.
My heart is so filled with emotion. There is much joy, but it is bittersweet, because my Dad isn't here to share it with me. The first Phillies game I watched with him was on April 17th, 1976 - a date I remember very, very well, because Mike Schmidt hit four home runs that day, and the Phils came back from a 13-2 deficit to win 18-16.
We listened to and watched a lot of the Phillies that year, as they went on to win 101 games (a franchise record that still stands). He took me to my first game at the Vet on September 12th, 1976, back when...
Were mascots for the team (this was three years before the Phanatic was born); the give away that day was a belt with Phil and Phyllis on the buckle.
My dad let us stay up waaay late, on October 21st, 1980, to watch the Phils clinch the first world series title for the city, after 97 years of existence. To ameliorate our grief at being so far away from Philly (we lived in Michigan at the time), he and my mom let my sister, my brother and I each have a glass of champagne.
We commiserated after the bust in 83, and shared our heartbreak after Joe Carter drove a stake through our hearts in '93. And through the close calls in the Larry Bowa era, finishing 2 games back in '01 and '05...and calling him delirious with joy just last September 30th, when the Phils celebrated their first division championship since 1993.
And through this year, too - early on, when we thought they really might improve on last year. And later on, when it gave it something to talk about besides the fact that he was dying of cancer. But we talked about them because, like most Philadelphia sports fans, we had hope - a rare and beautiful commodity.
So, forty days into the wandering through my own personal desert, all the years of hoping came to fruition. I wish so very much that I could get on the phone and share this with my Dad. Because I am happy. But there is a huge, empty ache in the midst of it.
When I wrote this, I had no idea how, or where, the season would end - and what would come to pass in the interim.
I know I am not alone among Philadelphia sports fans, Phillies Phans in particular, who have loved ones who are not here this night to celebrate this championship, and what it means to all of us who feel a bond to the city Penn planted at the confluence of the Schuylkill and the Delaware three and a quarter centuries ago.
I don't know if some part of my Dad, is, in some way, aware of what transpired tonight. But I hope so. Because it is all about hope. As a Phillies Phan, I should know about that.
So, Dad, since I am legal now, and I can afford it - tonight, the champagne is on me.
Drink up - We win.
