No Mistaking Loyalties: An NLCS To Savor

I know I'm not one of the older fans of the Phillies, but I'll put my memories and knowledge up there with any of them.  It comes from newspapers, family stories, and today, the Internet. 

But back in the late '80s and early '90s, you only had the paper and the beginnings of the cable boom. One of the first extra cable channels was TBS, based out of Atlanta. All the reruns you could want of old TV shows—and Atlanta Braves baseball, which at the time was worse than the Phillies. 

But in 1989, two players had my short attention span as a nine-year-old: Tom Glavine and David Justice. The team was still terrible, but these guys were players. 

And then 1991 happened. 

Before the Rays did it, these guys did it. Before there was the wild card, or even teams IN Florida—or Colorado for that matter.  Worst-to-first, back-to-back trips to the World Series, two great NLCS matchups with the Pirates—even a thin Barry Bonds for god's sake!  Sid Bream, Terry Pendleton, John Smoltz.

Yeah, so, aren't you a Phillies fan, what the heck is your point man?!?!

Here's the point.

In 1993, I rooted for the Braves over the Phillies in the NLCS.  The team I had seen rise up from nowhere was playing the Philadelphia Phillies.  And I didn't care that I had to watch in a separate room from my family.  Looking back on it now, I was screwed either way. 

I could ride the hometown team that was really fun to watch.  Who doesn't remember Mitch Williams' hit that won the second game against the Padres at 4:35 in the morning!  Had I made this choice, I would have been the bandwagoner, jumping on just because the Phils were winning finally. 

So, I stuck with the team I had already been watching and following for almost five years.  Had it not been for the Giants choking away the NL West, I could have avoided this situation.

And the rest is history. 

Dykstra hitting out of his mind, Wild Thing jumps into the air, Phillies win in 6.  And I wasn't that upset, even if I did walk through the living room with my shirt over my head as everyone teased and celebrated.  At the time, I hadn't seen a Philly team this loved and revered in my short life: too young to remember the 1983 season, and the 1987 Flyers were close, but not the way this team energized the city.

And yes, I cheered on the Phils against Toronto, wearing the NLCS Championship shirt that Mom got for us, even if meant hearing every time I wore it, "And just who did we beat to win the NL pennant again?" 

I understood.  And I knew what to do the next time, should it ever happen.  As I look back now, I would have taken the damn Braves hat off my 13-year-old head and set fire to it.

I don't have that worry this year.  I still get Braves jokes once in a while, but there's no mistaking that this Phillies team is my team.   Between following games on my cell phone in a bar in El Paso, Texas, to waiting up until 1 a.m. to catch the late highlights, this what I—and the rest of the Phillies fans—have been waiting for since 1993: 

Another chance, with a team that has been building towards this level of play for the last five years. 

And I have my chance to enjoy every moment cheering on my hometown team.  Just don't expect me to wear a Phillies hat—I have to stick with what works. Trust me on this one.