Championship at a Bit of a Price

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Championship at a Bit of a Price

I have been alive for 22 years and some months, I don't keep an exact count. But never had I seen a Philadelphia team win a championship. I had always thought about it at night before going to sleep, what I'd do. I always imagined running from my friends apartment on South Street to Broad and then just going nuckin futs. However, dreams don't always play out like you hope.

I took the train up to Philly for Game Five, Part One. I sat in a tiny living room with a bunch people, talking about everything but the game, drinking beer that was way flat. Then, to top it all off, it gets called due to rain, first postponed game in World Series history.

So now let's fast forward to Wednesday. It's still cloudy, cold as hell. I decided not to go up to the city to save money. So there go the Phillies, nice double by Burrell and Feliz knocking in Bruntlett to put the Phillies ahead.

Then, in the top of the ninth, Lidge has one of his easier saves of the year and strikes out the DEVIL RAYS' side to win the World Series. I'm out of my mind happy, jumping up and down, and that's where God had to check me.

Coming down from one of my Jordan-esque leaps my 200-pound frame lands on the left front leg of my beloved 12-year-old dog's paw, breaking it in two spots. The damn dog has stayed out of my way for every celebration I've done in his life, but for the World Series championship, he has to run after me and do that.

I blame him. He's smarter than that. I still enjoyed every moment of this road to the championship and will look back and laugh at this. The dog's fine; I got a red Phillies cast for him. The mutt'll live. It cost me $350 bucks to get it fixed—so much for saving money. If you haven't heard a Negadelphia story about the championship yet, this is it, sorry.

Also, my friend had a bit of a rough night. He was celebrating on Broad street and lit off a roman candle. The idiots that looted that luggage store on Chestnut didn't get busted, but he did. He got bracelet number of 000001, first person arrested that night. Celebrated in a jail cell. Perfect.

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