NLCS Interrupted: Why It Took Seven Hours To Watch Phillies-Dodgers Game Two

There are very few things that would keep me from watching a Phillies' playoff game live.  My son's first birthday is pretty close to the top of that list.  Add an afternoon start time to the mix, and it certainly becomes a challenge.

But thanks to the magic of modern technology, I happily set my DirecTV HD-DVR to record the game, extended the end time by an hour, and planned to sit down after the evening's festivities and enjoy Game Two of the NLCS.

With the game starting during office hours, I was able to take in the first two innings at work.  The score was 4-2 when I left.

I came home, grabbed the family, and headed out to the mall for some birthday fun.  The good thing about one-year-olds is that they're entertained rather easily.  So we hit the food court and then let the kids run around the play area.

Good times.

Eight o'clock rolls around, and my son starts rubbing his eyes, so it's time to load the troop back in the minivan.  On the way out to the car, I see I have a text message from my brother asking if I were home yet.  I had alerted him to the plan earlier in the day, and told him not to tell me anything about the game. 

The good thing about living away from my home town is that you can create a communication blackout and usually not have anyone spoil the outcome of a time-shifted game.  So I texted back a simple, "No," and shuttled the family back home.

My wife and I each take a child to get ready for bed, and I had my four-year-old daughter.  During the playoffs, I've been bargaining with her, allowing her to "trade" her nighttime story for some Phillies time with Daddy. 

Very self-serving, I admit, but it works.  Of course, she usually ends up watching five minutes at most, and then ends up playing with her toys.  But I have to build team loyalty somehow, right?

So I let her stay up until 9 pm since she took a good nap, and then have to pause the game to put her to bed.  I think the score was 8-2 Phillies.  If there was ever six-run lead that made you feel uneasy, it was this one.  Even the fans at Citizens Bank Park were unusually quiet for such a big lead.

Prayers, tuck, kiss, and then Daddy's running back downstairs to hit "play."

A few minutes go by and I hear the shuffle of little feet on the ceiling. 

"What are you doing?"

"I have to go the bathroom."

Sigh.  "Okay."

Hit play again.  Wild pitch, inning continues, Manny continues being Manny, and it's now 8-5.

Pause.  I run upstairs to check on my daughter.  She's still in the bathroom, playing with the little inchworm she had found earlier in the day and was keeping in a baby-food jar.

"Give me Fuzzy."

"No."

"GIVE ME FUZZY!"

Cue the waterworks.

So I take the bug, tuck my daughter back into bed, taking away her chocolate milk she gets in the morning that we use as motivation to keep her in bed at night (well, it's Ovaltine), and threatening more disciplinary action if she gets out of bed again.

Of course, all the commotion in the hallway has woken the baby up.

Crap.

So I try the usual: rubbing his back, bouncing, singing, teething tablets.  Nothing's working. 

Okay, fine. 

Back downstairs we go, plopping the boy on my lap so we can watch the game together—which, I have to admit, was pretty cool.  He actually sat there for a good 15 minutes, long enough for the Phillies to escape without any more damage and get the game to the bullpen.

But now, the baby's squirming—much like the rest of us Phillies fans, as that three-run lead just seems tenuous.  Of course, we're Philly fans, so we're pessimistic by nature.  So we do the bouncing thing again, but the poor thing is so tired and won't get comfortable in his arms.

Pause.

I fill up a bottle with water, bring him back upstairs, which he happily takes and snuggles in, and goes down for the rest of the night.

Phew!

We now return you to your regularly scheduled program already in progress (and completed long ago).

So I now get to finish the game, here comes Brad Lidge to close it out, and Manny Ramirez walks. 

Uh-oh.

But Lidge works an 0-2 count to Andre Ethier, and then:

"Would you like to keep this recording?"

GAAAAA!

The game went too long.  The DVR stopped with a man on, no outs.  Are you kidding me??  I had even added an hour to the recording time. 

Fox has to know that these playoff games don't go three hours.  This game didn't even go into extra innings.  I guess next time I'll have to add three hours to the record time to cover my bases.

So at 11 p.m., I call my brother to get the scoop on how Lidge struck out Nomar to end the game.

And if all that wasn't enough—there's the baby waking up from naptime.

Sigh.