My Quest for the World Series Trophy

A Bleacher reporter asked me: Is that you with the World Series trophy?

It most certainly is.

In an event, which I found out subsequently was for special customers and radio station guests primarily, I made it my goal to see the Phillies World Series trophy at a local sports bar in southern New Jersey.

I had seen a commercial or update on Comcastsportsnet this week that the trophy was going to be a said local popular sports bar from 2 to 4 PM Thursday. I looked on-line and sure enough, the trophy was to be there that day. Plus, a yet to be announced player was set to show up, along with a Phillies announcer.

I called ahead and the person who answered the phone said that priority would be given to the customers first, then to the general public who came just to see the trophy. They suggested I get there about 1PM

I arrived at the location at 1:30 p.m., amidst light snow, expecting to see a line outside, especially if there was to a player on site. Could it be Cole Hamels, who will be around the area this weekend to auction off a painting of himself this weekend?

Hey, if you are like me, I watch Comcast's Sportsrise in the morning, at least twice, and Daily News Live a couple times a week. Not much Philly sports news gets by me. If it does, my friends will text me about trades, free agents signings, etc.

There was no line outside, so I kept my iPod inside my car. As I was approaching the bar, I saw a guy in a Phillies hat and jacket say, "I heard it's Kyle Kendrick." Hey, last year, I would have thought, "Wow," but at this point, I'd rather see A.J. Happ.

Getting inside, there were a lot of people waiting to speak to the waitress. I asked her and she said, "only people with the wristbands will get to see the trophy."

A woman nearby said earlier in the late morning, she just walked up to the trophy and got her pictures. I tried, but both sides getting to the trophy were blocked by bar personnel.

Hey, now wait a minute. See, that is the great thing about being currently unemployed. I told my wife, and that was my job for the day. I wasn't giving up so easily. I would wait it out.

Another waitress told me that she could take my name to get me a table, but no guarantee of a wristband. Another patron told me he lied about losing his wristband. Nope, I thought, I always get more bees with honey than I do vinegar.

"Sure," I said. "Take my name."

The sports bar showed a running DVD of the Phillies "Perfect Season," which they also had for sale at the host area, so I tried to stay out of the way and talked to a few people until my name got called. (I also saw the DVD for free on Comcast on Monday night. As a fan, though, it does not get old.)

I knew I'd have to get something to eat and drink. I couldn't hold the table with just water. After a few players names got tossed around, I found out no player was coming. Larry Anderson, the announcer, and former Phil was apparently there, as was the Phantic. I saw the big green Phillies mascot with my own eyes, but not Anderson.

Sure enough, about the third time the DVD on the big screen television played, my table for one got called.

Another guy named Scott came, too, and asked if he could sit with me. I said sure. He didn't stay long. He had just gotten there, but was leaving since no player was coming.

Sure enough, just as I was finishing my food and beverage, the waitress came with wristbands.

"I got my wristband," I texted my friend. "Cool," he sent back.

They announced that the general public could see the trophy after the wristbands were done and they still hadn't called my number. It was after 3:30 p.m.

I decided to make my move. Not a moment too soon.

"You guys can't go," said the one waitress.

"But I have a wristband and they haven't called my number, yet.

"It's doesn't matter if you have a wristband or not," she countered.

Fortunately for me, a smooth talker with several wristbands in his hand talked the waitress into letting us go.

As I inched up, I sensed the management was ready to shut this baby down. I barely let people walk in front of me, making them go behind me, fearing someone saying, "OK, the line ends here." And moved their hand in front of me.

Whew. We got closer and closer, until I was about two table lengths away.

When it came my time, I was ready. "Can you take a second shot?" The management guy reluctantly said yes.

I didn't know what to do with my hands and arms. The first shot I stretched them out and made fists. The second shot, a closer shot, I went thumbs up, shown above.

After seeing the photos at home, I should have made like Brad Lidge, shown in the photo behind me and gotten on my knees. I wanted to act like I was kissing the trophy, but management seemed very protective of the trophy.

As I was leaving, I had some fun with a group of younger guys, who sat at their table with an empty beer tower. If you don't know, a beer tower holds about two-and-a-half gallons of beer and is long and thin with a tap.

"You guys should get a shot of the trophy with your beer tower inside it," I laughed as I said it.

If only.

Mission accomplished.