World Series Eve

By the time I was in 8th grade or so, I was an all-out Phillies fan. I knew my baseball, and I loved my team. So I was thrilled a few years later when the Phillies put together their magical 1993 season. The crazy players, the crazy games - I was all over it, and I watched and read everything I could about the Phils.

Over the past few weeks, I've been thinking back to that year and the postseason. But I don't remember much about the playoffs. There was Lenny Dykstra's big Game 5 against the Braves, and I remember the clinching of the NLCS. Curt Schillng's masterful Game 5 of the World Series after the heartbreak of Game 4.

And, of course, I remember Game 6. I was babysitting that Saturday night, and I managed to get the younger girl to bed after watching Aladdin on video tape. But the 11-year-old boy cajoled me into letting him stay up late and watch the game. I justified it to myself by thinking, "His parents will understand. Who am I to deny this poor child a chance to see the Phillies tie up the World Series?"

All was well, until, well, you know the story. The night ended as I tried to put on a cheery, "Come on, it's time for bed or your parents will kill me." I don't think he cared about the outcome of the game; he was probably just psyched that he conned the sitter into letting him stay up until almost midnight. Meanwhile, I just wanted him to go to his room because I had a lump the size of a baseball in my throat and I didn't want him to see me cry.

Until now, the Phillies haven't done any better. I've had fun times with the team since 1993, watching great and awful players, great and awful games. At the start of every season, I'm convinced that this will be the year for my team. Last year, when they finally broke the playoff drought, the tide started to turn.

Jimmy Rollins has made it clear recently: He's tired of hearing about 1980. He's tired of hearing about 1993. Citizens Bank Park belongs to this new legion of players and fans. It's time for a change, and his team, the one led by Chase Utley and Cole Hamels, Ryan Howard and Brad Lidge, castoffs, baseball lifers and a wonderful country bumpkin manager, is going to bring that change and write a new chapter in the long history of this franchise. And I can't wait for it. This one I will remember.

But I'm not sure if it has truly hit me yet. The Phillies - my Phillies - are playing in the World Series. Against the Tampa Bay (Devil) Rays, of all teams. And even more, I'm going to watch a World Series game. And even more than that, it's possible that I might even be there in person to see the Phillies win the World Series. (I'm hoping I don't hold it against them if the sweep and win in four games. Memo to the Phillies: Feel free to have a blowout around Game 3 or 4, so I can go to my game and you can win in front of me, OK?)

The Rays have had a great run. I had been cheering them on, but starting tomorrow, it's time to put an end to it. The Devil Rays may have stunk since their inception, but the team, the fans and the city haven't suffered. We have. And now it's time for the Phillies to win.

In 1990, only 10 years after the Phillies won their only championship, one of my grandfathers died. Years later, when my Grandmom was going through some things he had packed away, she found and gave to me two mementos from the World Series. One is a copy of the Philadelphia Inquirer, meticulously wrapped in plastic wrap to preserve it, from the day after the victory. I've always wanted to open it to read the coverage but refrained. I feel like I should preserve it as well. The other is the shot glass seen above. I hope I can start to build a little collection and buy a companion 2008 version soon.

So, for the final prediction of the year, the one that matters:

Phillies vs. Rays: Phillies, no doubt.

[Phils in seven, but I don't have a strong feeling.]