Not Yet Dead

Hi there! Are you still reading this blog? Thanks for that! I know it's been a while, but I have an excuse. Not a good excuse, of course. And not really an excuse, either. More of an explanation. Although it's not a good one, really. Mostly school. And work. And life. And some sort of vague depression-like thing that I am pretty sure is related to taking antihistamines non-stop since last August. Or something. Anyway.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AT THIS DIFFICULT TIME, is what I am trying to say.

While I was busy trying to remember what it was I was supposed to be doing this week, we found time to take in a Phillies game. A kind of combination gift for our anniversary (which was last week, even though I didn't write about it at the time, because of something) and my birthday (which is Friday, the Quatro de Mayo, so go on ahead and have a margarita or five, because some weirdo on the Internet told you it's okay). In what I imagine was a sign from the gods, it turned out to be the Phillie Phanatic's birthday celebration, although there was no cake, which is BULLSHIT.

SPOILER ALERT: The Phillies lost, because it's April, and they ALWAYS suck in April, no matter what the dodoheads I work with want to insist. Go ahead, read over the statistics. The Phillies are rarely, if ever, at .500 before May 1. I blame global warming, the Republican party, Hitler, polydactyl cats, and the fact that basically half the team always gets banged up during Spring Training. (I said BANGED UP, you guys, minds out of the gutter, okay?)

Anyway. Having a five-year-old at a baseball game is a lot different than having a 1½-year-old because toddlers understand the word "No." They don't like it, of course, but they understand it. And certainly they're not quite savvy (or TALL) enough to ferret out that if you wave your hat around and yell "OVER HERE!" at the cotton candy vendor then they'll stop and your parents will have no choice but to buy you some, just to avoid an Embarrassing Situation.

(I do not recommend buying cotton candy for a five-year-old at a Sunday afternoon game when the weather has been beautiful and you have been tailgating and she refused to eat anything except pickles and salsa and ice cubes. No good can come from that.)

And, I know I keep promising this, but I'm going to try to be more diligent about posting as we get closer to the summer and there are more pictures. Got a fancy new vibration reduction telephoto lens and a REALLY GOOD FEELING about the summer. Thanks for hanging in.

HEY YOU GUYS

Shaezie here, pinch hitting for my mom, who is a total slacker. (Do you like how I said "pinch hitting" there, on account of it being baseball playoff time and all? Hahaha, I am SO FUNNY, you guys. Go Steelers!!!1!eleven!)

You'd probably never guess it because the weather's been so dis-GUST-ing outside (yes, that's exactly how I say that word, shut up you guys and stop picking on me!), but we've actually been kind of busy lately. These Flyin' Hawaiian shirts aren't going to wear themselves, you know.

I've been, like, running around all over the world and making my parents crazy and growing out of my pants all the time. Look at me! I'm all legs and arms and pointy elbows like a praying mantis with grasshopper legs. Boing boing boing! Good thing Christmas is coming, right?

Also I have a new hobby: growing my hair. Isn't it AWESOME? Except it really hurts when my mom has to comb my hair. She says I'm "tender-headed," but really I just like to complain about everything when she makes me get out of bed at 6:15 for school. It's still dark out, then, you guys!

My mom says this picture should be captioned: "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?" I don't know what she's talking about, but that's a pretty great song. I like to listen to it when we're playing "Dance Your Pants Off" at home.

This is me, running around in Lauren's backyard with a bungee cord. Why? I am four years old, and I don't need a reason to be a goober. (Mommy says that picture is totally unaltered, by the way, and that you should "click to embiggen." I think it makes me look like I'm a super-fast runner ZOOOOOOOOOOOM!)

Anyway, that's all for now, you guys. My mom will be back tomorrow with some more of her boring stuff.

Back In Business

We're wearing a new Phillies shirt and we got our hair done did for the game tonight.

Oh, yes, we're ready for the continuation of Doc-tober. Go Phils!

Catch the Phever

So ... Wednesday's game was pretty exciting, huh? Sure, there was Roy "Doc-tober" Halladay's no-hitter, which I guess is kind of a big deal (snerk), but you know what's even more important than history? Shae's boy Shane Victorino got a double, a stolen base, and a run, all in the first inning.

All great moments start with just a single step, right? Or, in this case, a double.

Oh, yeah, baby, we're feeling the love in our house. And after what we saw on Wednesday? You better believe we'll be watching to see what happens now. It's a good time to be a Phillies phan. Be there tonight, 6:07 PM, TBS. We've all got high hopes up in this joint.

PS -- Still time to vote for Victorino for the 2010 Roberto Clemente Award. Do it now! Voting is the American way, you know ...

Let's Do This Thang

It's the playoffs, baby! Four-peat NL East Champion Philadelphia Phillies start their NL pennant defense tonight against the Reds. Game starts at 5:07 PM on TBS. It's on like Donkey Kong, and WE ARE READY.

And if you have a few spare minutes, why don't you vote for Shane Victorino, this year's Phillies nominee for the 2010 Roberto Clemente Award? Voting continues through October 8 -- the official online ballot is here. Every single one of the nominees is deserving, seriously -- but of course we want Shae's boy The Flyin' Hawaiian to win. Go and vote like a baby stoat!

WFC's No More (For Now)

These words are not mine -- they are all other people's. Because all I have to say is, "Meh." I'm sorry the Phillies lost, I'm more sorry that the Phillies lost to the damn Yankees, but I am not devastated. Losing at this point last year probably would have killed me dead, but now I'm in a place where I can accept this loss with the knowledge -- or perhaps it is the hope? -- that we have done it before, and we can sure as hell do it again. I'm not a "next year" kind of girl, not really, but there is always next year. I am one of the "Phaithful."

As for this year? It's been hella fun, and now I can get some sleep. It's been hard staying up all night and amusing myself with Facebook games while I didn't actually watch the games because I'm superstitious.

= = = = =

From The 700 Level: "This team has character, heart, and took us on one of the most amazing runs this city has ever seen. It was an awfully fun ride. While I'm sad to see it come to an end, I'm thankful for the fun it's been."

= = = = =

From The Fightins: "At first, this recap felt like an obituary. Here lies the 2009 Philadelphia Phillies, it started out with. That theme continued for about 50 or so words, until I realized something: It’s wrong.

"It’s wrong, and I’ll tell you why: 2009 wasn’t the death of something. These Phillies aren’t getting taken apart from a fire sale spurred on by cheap management. There are no pending free agents that anchor the team, and the owner doesn’t have a beef with the skipper."

= = = = =

From Beerleaguer: "2009 carried a different meaning ... one that mattered less about winning and more about the bonds the Phillies have created among us. Step back. Look around. What great pleasure, excitement and brotherhood the Phillies have stirred, at a time when unity and goodwill are in such short supply."

= = = = =

From Phillie Phanatics: "This team is filled with a unique group of guys, gathered together from the various nooks and crannies of our country, who have gelled together unlike any team I’ve ever seen. They are a giant family, they all get along, and manage to find a way to do the impossible, get through a Major League season."

= = = = =

There are some people I know, co-workers and friends and even some family members, who are going to gloat because their team won a World Series again. They have sent out bragging emails and posted smug Facebook status updates wherein they are waiting for excuses and begging for arguments. They'll get none from me, because I have none to give; their team won, and my team lost, and that's the way the cookie crumbles. It is what it is.

I refuse to tell them to take their 27 trophies and stick them sideways up their asses, because it's just not me. Not right now, anyway. And it's not what the late great Harry Kalas would want, I don't think. Let them be happy that their team won. Hooray for you! (Insert Monty Python-esque "great rejoicing" noises here.) Me? I'm happy that my TEAM -- all of them, barring unforeseen tragedy -- will be back together next year.

And I mean, really, what is one more loss, when we've already had 10,000 of them anyway? I feel the same way now that I did then: "Learn from the experience, but don't let it define you. 10,000 losses. Big whoop. Game over. Reset. Full steam ahead."

Next year, guys. We've got high-apple-pie-in-the-sky hopes.

Here We Go Again

image via Deadspin / Gawker Media

You might have noticed that I'm a baseball fan. Can't help it; it's a congenital defect that I get from my father. And maybe my grandfather on my mother's side, but mostly it's from my dad.

You might also have noticed that I haven't had much to say about baseball since we saw the giant inflatable hot dog. There is a reason for this: I am incredibly superstitious, and I didn't want to jinx anything.

There are big and small ways that the Phils have been part of our lives all summer long, but for the most part, I have tried not to focus on them too much, tried not to get fixated, tried not to know about all of Lidge's blown saves and Howard's late inning heroics and Ibañez's astounding season and Victorino's hot head and big mouth and Feliz's butt ...

... but of course these things are a part of me, part of my DNA, part of what makes me who I am, and so even though they've been at the back of my mind, they've always been on my mind. And they'll stay there. I might not be watching, but I'll know what's going on.

And, like always, I'll have high hopes. (Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant.)

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

We went to our first baseball game of the year the other night. Spring is probably my favorite time of year for baseball -- well, May and early June, actually, when there is a better chance of nice weather (read: not freezing your nuts off), but I am not adverse to April baseball if it is at least 15° above freezing and not actively raining.

Fortunately it was a great night for a ball game (until the middle of the 6th inning, anyway), so we took our free tickets and headed to Citizens Bank Park. Some days I miss the Vet and the rats and the mutant pigeons and the ever-pleasant smell of a giant public urinal, not to mention the judge in the basement, but now that we have Shae I am glad the Phillies play somewhere nice. Somewhere clean. Somewhere with the world's greatest ballpark sandwiches.

Our seats were in Section 134, right along the third baseline. The view was fantastic -- here, let me show you:

And what we could see of the field was even better:

On the mound here is Jamie Moyer who is maybe the only guy on this entire team who is older than I am. Oh, wait, I lied -- Chris Coste is older than I am. (And hey, there is an infielder who I never heard of who has my exact birthday!)

Oh -- have I mentioned that I love our new camera? With the "old" camera we would never have gotten that much detail in the "wide" shot, although we would have gotten amazing pictures of the back of the head of the person sitting in front of me:

It was a good game. The Phils won, 11-4, and Shae got to see what I believe is her first major league home run, hit by Pedro Feliz, who I believe must be my new favorite Phillie or something, because I took about 300 pictures of him, like this:

I just don't know. Makes me look like a stalker, which I don't think I am. He does have a nice butt, though, if that counts for anything.

We did NOT get our picture taken with the Phanatic, which was a huge disappointment: Shae declared him "not nice." Hopefully she'll get over it.

Thrill of Victory

Yes.

Yes.

A thousand times, YES!

Photo Credit: New York Times

Oh my God, I LOVE YOU GUYS. Thanks for a great season. And congratulations on a well-deserved championship.

UPDATE FROM THE INTERNETS:

So when that final out comes, what it does is provide a single unified moment of pure, shared ecstasy. Everyone explodes together, in that one instant. And that’s what you saw last night. And that’s why that moment is forever. You REMEMBER that last out. You remember Orosco. You remember Wainwright. And now, you remember Lidge.

Say what you will about FOX, but after the game ended, the network was smart enough to simply replay the moment of Brad Lidge’s strikeout again and again and again. From every angle. We saw Ryan Howard react. We saw Jimmy Rollins react. We saw the dugout react. We saw Lidge react. We saw fans jump higher than a moon shot. We saw outfielders instantly break into a sprint towards the mound, hands raised. It was if they had isolated a camera on every single person in the stadium in order to capture them in that one fleeting second.

And God dammit, it was glorious.

Oh yes, it sure was.

Crazy Baseball Thought Of The Day

... brought to us by the letters P, H, L, and the numbers 0 and 8, and also our friends over at The 700 Level:

We're emotional wrecks. We have all at some point stated that we'd do unsanitary things to ourselves "if it meant a title." Some seven year olds have seen enough already to question if they'd witness a title in their lifetime. A recent trend seems to indicate that some fans are "trying not to get too hooked" on our teams just to "protect themselves." We lost our minds long ago. I'm tired of complaining about it. Tonight, a ball IS gonna fall our way. Literally. Right into section 145 in the bottom of the ninth to send us into Broad Street euphoria and a potential apocalypse. That fiasco on Monday night was the last straw. The final countdown. The seventh circle. We're here. We've made it out of the figurative and literal monsoon. It's time. We're up 3-1 in the World Series and we're crafting conspiracy theories following Tropical Storm Selig.

[Let's be] done with it. We're three innings from freedom. Free from sacrificing family members, serving prison sentences, and cleaning up vomit. Free from bad bounces, fallacious forecasts, and false hope. And for god's sake, we're three innings to freedom from "there's always next year."

There's always next year, but there's always tonight, too.

Let's go win a championship.

WORD.

Why Bud Selig Is Bad For Baseball -- Part #586,378

Yes, I stayed up to watch the game last night. All of it. Almost every single solitary minute. We missed a grand total of maybe 15 pitches on the night due to snack breaks, laundry room adventures, and TiVo conflicts.

Yes, I think that the right decision was made, suspending the game instead of calling it due to bad weather. Anybody who honestly believes that a clinching game of a World Series would ever, under any circumstances, be called early due to anything short of the Apocalypse is a nutbar of the highest order.

Yes, I want the Phillies to win, but I also want them to do it fair and square, the old-fashioned way: by playing 36 innings of winning baseball. Maybe there will be inclement weather sometimes. Maybe there will be plagues of flies. Maybe we have to rely on our bullpen and our bats to finish a game once in a while. So what?

But that doesn't mean that shit like this doesn't still annoy the piss out of me:

[W]hat, apparently, none of these players on either team knew -- was that Selig had already made his big decision.

If the rules weren't going to permit him to suspend this game, he was going to have to go to Plan B. He was just going to have to impose martial law -- or at least Selig's Law -- and, essentially, suspend it anyway. By simply declaring the world's longest rain delay. Whether that took 24 hours, 48 hours or all the way to Thanksgiving.

Selig vowed these teams were not going to finish this game "until we have decent weather conditions."

Gee, it's a shame he didn't have that same feeling before he allowed this game to start in the first place. (emphasis added)

Yes, we know people who were at the game last night. They reported that the weather wasn't too bad even up until 9:30 or so. Some drizzly mist, cold swirling winds, temperatures dropping, but nothing that we haven't seen before. Nothing unexpected for this part of the country at this time of year. Nothing that the Eagles haven't played in before.

Yes, conditions got ugly, and maybe even a little scary. Routine infield popups were difficult to field. Puddles were forming around home plate. The rubber on the pitcher's mound was sinking like it was on quicksand. Bases were getting stolen that never should have been, never would have been under normal circumstances.

Or, in other words, if the Phillies wanted to win this game, if they still want to win this game, they're going to have to earn it, which is what they really want, anyway: "'We've been playing for seven months," [second-baseman Chase] Utley said. "Another day or two is not going to hurt us.'"

Yes, I still believe. I'm a Philly girl. What else is there for me to do?

Cautiously Optimistic

It's been a while since I blogged about baseball, but that's because being a Phillies fan is like having a bad boyfriend: they're unpredictable sometimes, and they forget to make you happy, and your parents aren't always real crazy about them, and they're tattooed and hotheaded and not always really reliable, and sometimes they go away for your birthday and they don't bring you anything home except a losing streak, and they give you a hard time, and they do stupid shit that even they know they're not supposed to, but even through all that, you love them and you think they love you, and anyway they always manage to somehow come through in the clutch, and maybe one of these days they'll come home with a ring.

I mean, I could go on and on about all the good and the bad and the wacky and the zany and the heartbreaking and heart-stopping things that the Phillies have done this season, but right now, I just want to ... relax a little bit. Catch my breath. It gets exhausting while you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I need to settle down and get my bearings. I've been preparing for the worst while hoping for the best since April, and it's made me a little schizo. So I hope you understand that I am ecstatic, and also overwhelmed. An entire city is expecting 25 years of shattered hopes to be erased by a bunch of scrappy guys in baseball uniforms. And so is a little girl. That's a lot of pressure.

Update, from Beer*Leaguer: 'Here it is, the World Series of Blog Entries, the opportunity to swing for the fences instead of sac bunting with a line like “savor the moment.” With hands trembling, a simple “thank you” is all I wish I needed to write. It’s something that hasn’t been ... uttered in 15 years. Thank you, Phillies, for giving us this, with this being the part too wonderful for words, the hard part, the part I knew I must identify when Carlos Ruiz caught the foul pop that brought us to this. To me, this is an escape from past, a reminder that life is right under my nose. How strange it is to be in this place, where all the baggage, accumulated from fandom, and from life, are stripped away until we're left with the feeling of pure joy, and reminds us of the very moment that got us started down this road in the first place. A father, a man of 30, watches Schmitty, a man of 30, in his chair, while his young boy fondles baseball cards on the floor. Last night, that boy, now 30, sat in a chair of his own. Maybe that's why “savor the moment” is used so often, because it’s the very best lesson of all." (Emphasis mine.)

FURTHER UPDATE! Apparently Barack Obama has announced that he is rooting for the Phillies for this series!

Congratulations to the new sexiest man in all of baseball: J-Roll. Way to win that MVP! Much deserved, indeed. Hardware is HOTT.

Things That Are Sexy Right This Very Minute:

10. Chuck on NBC, Monday nights at 8pm - Because I ♥ Nerds

9. Anybody who beats the Yankees - Bonus points because: Grady Sizemore! Squee!

8. Gossip bloggers who are bitchier than I am - Plus, pink hair! (Sometimes!)

7. High-definition television

6. House on Fox, Tuesday nights at 9pm - Because I ♥ Snarky Bad-Asses

5. Scrapple, sliced thin, and fried until crispy on the outside but still mushy inside - with ketchup

3 (Tie). #26

3 (Tie). #11

2. American sports cars - Mustangs & Corvettes especially

1. Shutouts in the playoffs

Oh! And Matt Damon (note: NOT Tom Brady)!

I have to admit: I can't believe this is really happening. I can't believe the Phillies actually made the playoffs. I can't believe that they overcame a 7-game deficit since September 12th and actually pulled it off. I can't believe they went 13-4 in the last 17 games to beat the Mets. I can't believe they won the NL East for the first time since I was in college. I can't believe they really did it. And I don't know why.

Despite my own arguments to the contrary, the Phillies are clearly not the worst team in Major League Baseball. Perhaps they are the worst for my health -- I had approximately 15 strokes this weekend, at least 2 heart attacks, 125 apoplectic fits, and countless nightmares, plus I about wrung the skin clean off my hands -- but they are not the absolute worst team. They're not a laughingstock. They may be the losingest team ever, but they're not just the lovable losers anymore. Hell, even the lovable losers are winners sometimes: the Cubs won their division too, didn't they?

It's just so surreal, this NLDS business. I mean, I'm an Eagles fan (not to mention a devout Donovan apologist), but I can honestly say that never, not once, did the Eagles making the playoffs feel so real or so important as this win for the Phillies does. This is weird, historical, legendary, epic-movie-making territory here. Jayson Stark wrote an awesome article for ESPN about this, which is probably better than anything I could have come up with, but which I still think is lacking something.

The awe is there. The facts are definitely correct. And the quotes he uses sure seem to sum up the Phils we all know and love around here (especially the quotes from Jamie Moyer, who made me cry and whom I secretly love a whole really lot and I want to move in with him and be, I ), but it's not ... enough. Not shellshocked enough. Not dazed and confused enough. Not "oh-my-god-am-I-really-seeing-what-I-think-I'm-seeing?" enough. Not Philadelphia enough.

I do know this: the last time I felt like this after a baseball game, the Red Sox won the World Series. It was an unreal, completely bizarre, totally otherworldly experience. And damn, if I don't LOVE IT. Go Phightin' Phils!

(Video NOT used with the express written consent of MLB. Hope they understand.)

April 28, 2007
Atlanta Braves - 15-8 (+0.5)
New York Mets - 14-8
Florida Marlins - 11-12
Philadelphia Phillies - 10-13
Washington Nationals - 8-16

May 28, 2007

New York Mets - 32-17 (+4.0)

Atlanta Braves - 29-22

Philadelphia Phillies - 26-25

Florida Marlins - 24-27

Washington Nationals - 21-30

June 28, 2007

New York Mets - 43-33 (+3.0)
Philadelphia Phillies - 41-37
Atlanta Braves - 41-38
Florida Marlins - 37-42

Washington Nationals - 32-46

July 28, 2007

New York Mets - 58-46 (+3.5)

Philadelphia Phillies - 54-49

Atlanta Braves - 54-51
Florida Marlins - 48-57
Washington Nationals - 45-59

August 28, 2007

New York Mets - 73-58 (+4.0)
Philadelphia Phillies - 69-62
Atlanta Braves - 68-65
Florida Marlins - 58-75
Washington Nationals - 58-75

September 28, 2007

New York Mets - 87-72 (--)

Philadelphia Phillies - 87-72

Atlanta Braves - 83-76

Washington Nationals - 72-87

Florida Marlins - 69-90

What in the hell is the world coming to?

==========



UPDATED AT 11:02 PM EDT -- Phils win, Mets lose. Phillies are now 1 game up on NYM with a "magic number" of 2. Also, Red Sox clinch AL East thanks to a walk-off RBI single from Melvin Mora in the 10th in Baltimore. Also looks like the Cubs will clinch NL Central tonight (Brewers are currently losing). If it didn't stress me out too much, I would LOVE down-to-the-wire September baseball.


Plus, MLB.com had the following picture up which I am totally not making up (see here for the actual story). It's so sacreligious, it's fucking wonderful. As an FYI, Cole Hamels is married to the former Heidi Strobel, who once got naked for chocolate and peanut butter on "Survivor: Amazon" when she didn't have to and then posed for Playboy and lost her job as a teacher because she's basically an idiot. I wouldn't exactly call Hamels a "savior" for Philadelphia -- everybody knows J-Rol is our Jesus.

==========

UPDATED AGAIN AT 11:18 PM EDT because Jesus Christ on a cracker, I cannot handle formatting on the Intarwebs, oh my head -- Cubs clinch. Rockies lose. Oh, and while nobody was paying much attention, Jimmy Rollins quietly set a new MLB record tonight.

Not everybody knows the story of how "Sweet Caroline" came to be associated with the Boston Red Sox -- I didn't know it myself until a couple of years ago, and I've been a fan for quite a while -- but regardless of how things developed, there is nothing in the world that describes my relationship with the Sox quite like that song does: "Where it began, I can't begin to know when ... And when I hurt / Hurting runs off my shoulder / How can I hurt when holding you? ... Good times never seemed so good."

That song, however inadvertly, is all about being a fan, about being so in love with a team that you can't even think straight, because you well up with tears when you hear a song written by a man who also wrote the (in-?) famous lines "I am, I said ... and no one heard at all / not even the chair." I don't really care that Neil Diamond is more the Sergeant of Square than the Sultan of Swing. Doesn't matter. When I took G to Fenway Park for the first time, for his birthday, and I heard him singing along with the Fenway crowd, and I saw the look of utter bliss on his face, that right there was my own personal nirvana.

And I was wondering: do the Phillies have a song that invokes the same feelings in its fans? I can't really think of one, and I've been a Phillies "phan" longer than I've been a member of Red Sox Nation. Well, maybe "Loser," but that's more intended to be more ironical than anything. Their storied history notwithstanding, the Phillies aren't really losers, and certainly not this year. Except for Pat Burrell, and even he only sucks for half the season. The half when it matters, but still.

I just did an informal scientific survey of 6 specific random Philadelphia sports fans -- me, my dad, my grandparents, and two of my cousins -- and between the lot of us, we couldn't come up with an analogue for "Sweet Caroline" to represent the Phillies. There were lots of suggestions, including but definitely not limited to:

• "I'm a Loser" by The Beatles (hey! a song older than Jamie Moyer!)
• "I Hate Myself for Loving You" by Joan Jett (already used for football, so right out)
• "You Stink But I Love You" by Mucky Pup (bonus points for this one, IMO, because it came from a 15-year-old that I didn't know had ever even heard of Mucky Pup)
• "I'm Still Standing" by Elton John (... I don't know)
• "Against All Odds" by Phil Collins (no! no love songs!)
• "I Will Always Love You" by Dolly Parton, then wrecked forever by Whitney Houston (barfbarfbarfbarfbarfitybarfBARFBARF!)

None of these were my idea, by the way. After careful consideration and a thorough review of the 7,000+ songs on my iPod, I came up with two really good options, both of them with the exact same title, as it turns out -- "Bad Reputation," by Joan Jett or Freedy Johnston. Two totally different songs with two totally different attitudes, but convincing case can be made for either one, really.

Joan Jett's song is more defiant and, to the uninitiated, more "Philly style." I know that we Philadelphians have gotten bad press for being mean, nasty, and fatalistic. And we really don't care, frankly. What do you expect when our teams suck so hard? As long as we keep coming close-by-no-cigar to a championship of any kind*, we're going to be this way. Deal with it: "Don't give a damn about my reputation / Never said I wanted to improve my station ... Everyone can say what they want to say / It never gets better anyway / So why should I care about a bad reputation?"

The other contender, Freedy Johnston's song, is much different, and a song I like to think is more about the players speaking to the fans rather than the fans speaking to everyone else. It's sweet and melodic, wonderful in places, but also very plaintive, a plea for forgiveness or at least absolution: "I know I got a bad reputation / And it isn't just talk, talk, talk / If I only could give you everything / You know I haven't got ... Don't you think I've heard the talk? / Nobody's going to tell me who to love / Been breaking down / Do you want me now?"

Personally, I haven't decided what the theme song for the Phillies ought to be, for this year or for any other. I don't know how much time or energy I have to devote to the search, either; I'm too busy giving myself agita, hitting F5 on the MLB.com standing page, waiting for the "GB" figure to change and the other shoe to drop. Two games behind the Mets in the East, two games behind the Padres in the Wild Card, and a whole long month to go before it's over. Maybe I should worry instead about the music I want played at my funeral, when I die of exhaustion from worry.

* Another vicious lie. God, I'm lousy with them this week. In any event, Citizens Bank Park did just win "Best Ballpark Eats," according to the Food Channel. Hey, listen, I'll take what I can get!

This is not the blog post I expected to be writing now. You see, I just came from what is maybe the most infamous event in the history of all sports: the Philadelphia Phillies' 10,000th regular season loss. It's a big, bad milestone, one that was 125 years in the making, and I got to be there to share the moment with thirty thousand other Phillies fans.

I went into the game thinking that I was going to make a joke of it. It's actually kind of ridiculous to keep track of this kind of thing, and I am not the least bit surprised that it was first mentioned (as far as I know) in the New York Times. What do you do when the Yankees are 9 games behind in their division and 6 games under .500 with only a few weeks to go before the All-Star Break? Why, pick on somebody else, of course. Schadenfreude, and all that rot.

So I packed a bag and went to the game with a notebook that I was prepared to fill with all these pithy little observations about how bad the game was and how terrible the Phils are. Things like:

"4:49 PM - The parking lot is full but there was no traffic - is everyone in Philly here already? Will there still be crab fries for me? Can't lose a game like this without proper nourishment."

"6:00 PM - Starting lineups are announced. It will never stop being fun to boo Scott Rolen."

"6:02 PM - Batting third for the Phillies, second baseman (and my future stepfather) Chase Utley!"

"7:01 PM - Overheard: 'Everyone's numbers are better than Pat Burrell's. Adam Eaton's numbers are better than Pat Burrell's.'"

There's more, even stupider shit than this. Baseball is a very hard sport to blog because, well, when you sit deep in right field right by the bullpens in Citizens Bank Park, it's not like you can actually see much of what's happening. I saw a lot of Shane Victorino's back, and I noticed that Juan Encarnacion's name is so long that the letters on his jersey go down to his waist. Otherwise, the game is what it is, and while I love it, it's definitely one of those "you-had-to-be-there" kind of things.

Anyway, I wanted to treat the whole thing like a joke - whoo hoo, look at us, we really suck! - but the problem is, we don't. The Phillies are playing some really good baseball this year, and while sometimes leading the NL East is like winning the Special Olympics, this year it's actually a competitive division. Jimmy Rollins, Victorino, Chase Utley, and Aaron Rowand are playing some of the best ball that I've seen in Philadelphia in years.

So as much as I want to pretend that this loss doesn't matter, it kind of does. But not for the reasons it should: I am tired of Philly fans being - well, Philly fans. We're obnoxious, cranky, and completely bipolar. Remember the Eagles, how they did so well for so many seasons in a row? We expected them to lose and win at the same time, which ... how do you do that, anyway? How can you cheer for a team when you almost want them to choke, just so you can say "I told you so"?

My feelings about the Phillies are further complicated by my being a Red Sox fan. Philadelphia teams haven't won "anything," they say, since 1983. Melodramatic much? The record shows otherwise, and anyway, twenty-four years is a blink. Some teams have never won at all. The Rockies, Mariners, Rangers, Nationals/Expos, and the poor hapless Tampa Bay Devil Rays have never even gone to the World Series. Ask those fans how they feel. Or a Cubs fan, or a White Sox fan, or a Red Sox fan. 86 years is a long time to wait for something you want - 24 years is nothing.

So for me, this loss is just a minor bump in the road. The Phillies have a way to go, but they've come a long way, too. I'm going to keep cheering for them, and I'm going to hope that they feel like this particular event is just a stray bad night in a long string of good things to come, just as I do. I am no stranger to keeping the faith - I did it for the Sox in 2004, and I can do it for the Phils this year. And I will, even if everybody else wants to be so damned Philadelphian about it.

In the meantime, on the way home from the game, it rained. It was like a message from the Heavens, the same way that rain on your wedding day gives you a fresh start. Let the past soak into the dirt; learn from the experience, but don't let it define you. 10,000 losses. Big whoop. Game over. Reset. Full steam ahead.

Cross-posted at MySpace.