Nathaniel

Shockey

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November 3, 2008

Who Cares About the Election? The Phillies Won the World Series!

I find it difficult to write a column about the Philadelphia Phillies because I’ve become so accustomed to heartbreak that my celebratory vocabulary is underdeveloped. When people ask me how I’m feeling now that a Philadelphia sports team finally won a championship, I don’t really know what to say. I generally thrust my fists in the air victoriously, and tell them I’m just really happy.

The moment the Phillies won, when the final 0-2 slider cemented one of the more dominating post-season runs in history, I jumped in the air, accidentally punched the ceiling, ran outside and let out a few jubilant screams, and popped open a bottle of champagne which I dared not remove from the fridge until the job was done. I then spent as much time on the phone as I could, celebrating with my friends and family in Philadelphia.

“Can you believe it? Holy crap! We won! We freaking won!”

Both of my brothers were at the final game, and although it was hard to understand any of their hoarse tones on the phone amidst the screams and shouts, I got what I needed. I couldn’t be there among the Philly faithful, but I felt their excitement as high fives with strangers turned into great bear hugs. And really, is there much more to say?

In California, I catch a lot of flack for my Philadelphia sports passion. They say things like, “I follow my teams, but I don’t let a loss ruin a good night’s sleep.” Californians find me a bit crazy. If I’m a bit crazy, then my little brother is really crazy, as he actually did lose sleep the night before Game Five. But I don’t think we’re crazy. We take pride in cheering with the best sports fans in the country.

I think professional sports matter. They don’t matter the way presidential elections matter, the way relationships matter, the way the economy matters. But they matter in a way that affects everything. They are about nationalism, about one’s hometown, about struggle, defeat, excellence, honor, courage, cowardice, egotism and selflessness.

And as hard as I try, the more I realize that it’s not something that can really be explained. It can only be experienced.

Philadelphians have experienced defeat at the hands of a baseball team from Canada, whose hero rocketed a homerun over the left field fence in devastating fashion. I’ll never forget seeing Detroit Red Wings fans bring brooms to Game Four of the 1997 Stanley Cup Finals, and then watching my Flyers get swept after staying up for countless nights listening to the Flyers games on my radio. We experienced championship defeat against a basketball team from Los Angeles, the city that is everything Philadelphia isn’t, and God-willing, never will be. And of course, there was the Super Bowl against the mighty New England Patriots, when Donovan McNabb couldn’t seem to hustle when we needed him the most. This only skims the surface of the highlight reel that has been the real Philadelphia story for 25 years.

As the cycle reset, with the Phillies back in the World Series, I wondered if the outcome would affect the next three championship appearances in Philadelphia. The consequences were potentially severe.

But within a few agonizing days, after a game that was separated by two symbolically rainy days, finally, Philadelphians experienced the winning side.

Two months ago, I wrote a column suggesting that, if the Phillies managed to string together a stretch of games in which their pitching and hitting even flirted with their potential, the Philadelphia championship drought could end in 2008. Two weeks later, I implored the Phillies to win, if for no other reason than to help me survive this presidential election.

Who knew? I didn’t really mean it. I was just doing my best impression of optimism.

And yet here we are, the day before everyone decides our next president, and I can actually say with confidence: Damn the outcome, the Phillies won the World Series.

Like I said, this sort of thing cannot be explained. All we can do is tell stories. Finally I have a Philadelphia story that I just can’t wait to tell my kids some day.

© 2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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