In the middle of July — only a month ago! — I wrote about how much fun it was to watch baseball, and in particular how much fun it was to watch the Philadelphia Phillies, the team of my youth and heart. I talked about it with A Martinez on Morning Edition too, telling people to watch lots of baseball, and if they needed a team to root for, they could root for mine, which at the time had the best record in baseball. That was at the All-Star break.
And then a funny thing happened: They lost 16 of their next 25 games.
They lost to good teams, and very good teams, and bad teams, and very bad teams. They got beat by a little and by a lot. They were swept by the Yankees, which was a grievous mental injury to me personally. They lost one of those Yankee games in extra innings, and then a few days later, they lost in extra innings again, this time to the Seattle Mariners. Their best hitters went ice-cold; their best pitchers went wobbly; their bullpen went from confidence-inspiring to anxiety-inducing.
As I write this on Friday afternoon, however, they have won two games in a row. Is that a lot of games? Not necessarily; not to the cold and objective eye. But these two games have had, for lack of a better word, some pepper. The Wednesday night game against the Marlins got off to a lousy start: The Marlins jumped out to a 3-0 lead in the first inning. The Phillies came back with two — but then the Marlins scored two more in the fourth inning, making it 5-2, a setback just when things had been looking up.
But! The Phillies loaded the bases in the fifth for their beloved slugger, Kyle Schwarber, who was at the time 0 for his last 16. He connected with the ball, announcer John Kruk (who was once their slugger himself) hissed "YES!", and the grand slam sailed over the wall. It was 6-5. They added three more later and won 9-5. It wasn't just the win; it was the comeback. There is something about fight and hope that is perhaps more inspiring during a slump than an easy win.
But let's be honest — easy wins are nice, too, like the Thursday game against the Washington Nationals. The Phillies scored four runs in the first inning and just kept adding, eventually winning by a commanding 13-3. It wasn't just the win, though: 29-year-old rookie Weston Wilson, a guy I had practically never heard of before he was called up in July, hit for the cycle. That means he hit a single, a double, a triple and a home run. It was only the 10th time a Phillies player had done it, and the first time a Phillies rookie had.
Some people believe a true fan will watch every game from beginning to end, no matter what. I do not subscribe to that view. When games got ugly or out of hand, I followed them on my phone, keeping a watchful eye while not subjecting myself to too much misery. (I did watch that extra-innings loss to the Yankees, which is all the misery anyone could need for one season.) But I remained hopeful and ready to come back.
And on Thursday night, when Weston Wilson — whose name I am still mastering — hit for the cycle, I was almost as excited for him as I would be if it were a guy I've watched for years. This is loving a team, after all. You don't curse them, you don't quit on them, you don't pretend you know what would help when things are tough. You just keep waiting for the bright spots where you're lucky instead of miserable, and where hitter after hitter contributes and makes it seem like the sun is coming out.
You stay engaged. You get mad and despair. You pull yourself together. You put your team gear on and persevere. This is sports fan life; this is slump life. Maybe it's just life.
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