Phillies Survive a Maalox Moment, Beat Rays 5-4 In Game Three

Last night I did my best Randy Quaid impersonation.  Yes, for the three hours and 41 minutes it took to play Game Three of the 2008 World Series, I did my best to recreate the role Quaid played in the 1994 film Major League II.  You know the guy who was the eternal pessimist until the Indians won the pennant, then claimed he knew they had it all the way.

I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I knew the Phillies had it all the way in their 5-4 win over the Tampa Bay Rays.  In fact, I became quite convinced that the Phillies were going to lose the game after first base umpire Tom Hallion blew a close call at first base in the 7th inning.  Phillies pitcher Jamie Moyer made a heroic play on a Carl Crawford bunt only to have an out of position Hallion miss the call.  The Rays would go on to score two runs and my Philadelphia sports caused ulcer grew by about 30 percent.

Maybe I was channeling Ivan Dejesus’s error that cost the Phillies Game Three of the 1983 World Series.  Perhaps it was just of symptom of posttraumatic stress caused by years of Mitch Williams, Donovan McNabb, Eric Lindros and Allen Iverson.  Guys that brought us to the brink of the promise land only to fall short.  Either way, I felt we were doomed.

When Tampa’s B.J. Upton beat out an infield single to open the eighth inning, stole second and third on consecutive pitches, and dashed home on a wild throw by Phillies catcher Carlos Ruiz, I became convinced we were doomed.

Then something amazing happened.  The Phillies found a way to win.  When Eric Bruntlett crossed the plate with the winning run in the bottom of the ninth inning, I experienced joy that I have not felt since Mo Cheeks slammed dunked in Game Four of the 1983 NBA Finals.

This was not my father’s Philadelphia Phillies.  This was a team that picked themselves up by their bootstraps and found away to win when the chips were down.  This was a team that snatched victory from the jaws of defeat instead of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

I could just be sleep deprived, but this morning I have a sense of calmness that I have never experienced in my Philadelphia sports life. 

I have this t-shirt that my wife bought me a few years ago, at the beach.  It has a skeleton sitting in a recliner holding a beer in one hand and a Phillies, Eagles, Sixers and Flyers pennant in the other. The caption reads, “Waiting for a Philadelphia sports championship.”  She likes me to wear that shirt on big game days.  I think she gets a kick out of my suffering.

I’m hoping to be able to throw that shirt in the fireplace this week.  But I have been at this long enough to know, not to go buy matches and lighter fluid just yet.