No swing and a miss

The phillies lost the NLCS.

But you already know that because it was a week ago and your life has gone on.

Let me just quickly paint a picture for my own closure.

I went to a weird, mostly empty pseudo-sports bar and watched the game on silent because college football takes precedence in the south. Baseball? What's baseball?

But I went and watched because I am a loyal (postseason) fan and I wanted to watch them beat the odds in public.

I wanted to run down the street chanting after their victory.

And I watched, and cheered, then squirmed and feared.

Then, the end.

An athlete, adored by fans, paid millions of dollars a year to hit a ball, steps up to the plate.

His team is down 3-1 in the series and down 3-2 in this game.

This game is everything.

It's the ninth inning. 2 outs. 2 strikes.

This is his moment. He could be the hero.

The pitch.

The perfect pitch.

Sails over the plate.

The player is paid millions of dollars a year to hit the ball really far.

The ball whizzes through the strike zone.

The player doesn't move. The bat doesn't swing.

The strike is called.

It's over.

The world series dreams are dead.

And he didn't even swing the goddamn bat.

Sure there is always next year. But it'll never be the same. Players will leave for more money. Fans will be more skeptical.

And the love in my heart for Ryan Howard will never be the same.

DOCtober

Last night was Game 1 of the NLDS - The Phillies vs. The Reds.

In honor of the game, I made a batch of Go Phillies chicken nachos.

The game was legendary.

Phillies pitcher Roy "Doc" Halladay threw a no-hitter to beat the Reds 4-zip. Statistically, a

no-hitter is

the most difficult thing to accomplish in baseball. And only one other player in the history of baseball has thrown one in the post season: Don Larsen in 1956. Without a walk in the fifth inning, yesterday would have been a perfect game.

The conclusion is obvious: I make Go Phillies nachos and he pitches a no-hitter. Coincidence? Don't be naive.

NL East Champs!

Tonight the Phillies clinched their forth NL east championship in a row! Go Phils!

I'll be honest, I didn't watch the game. In fact, I didn't know there was a game on tonight. I even stole the word "clinch" from Google. But I've been a die hard Phillies playoffs bandwagon fan since I lived in Philadelphia in 2008. For most of the year, I barely know what sports season we're in. And what I enjoy most about regular season baseball games is the 3 hour naps I take while Chris watches.

But by the time the playoffs roll around, I'm fiercely invested in every game. Each loss is devastating. Each win, exhilarating. I barely notice the beer I've spilled all over myself. Ah yes, another reason I love playoffs. It's an excuse to drink at 1 in the afternoon. And the older one gets, the more one needs excuses for daytime drinking.

These next two weeks are my favorite drinking time of year. The energy at the bar is electrifying. Strangers become friends, united by the common bond of a major league baseball team and hours of inebriation. While I'm far from Phillies territory now, I'm confident that there are enough northerners down here that I can go out and publicly, maniacally cheer on my boys.

Let's ride this bandwagon till the wheels fall off.