Philadelphia Phillies Fans Coming to Grips with a New Feeling: Winning

It happened. My God, it actually happened.

I'm kind of at a loss for words. I don't know what to do now.

There's a line at the end of The Princess Bride, when they're leaving the castle, where Inigo Montoya says that he's been in the revenge business so long, he doesn't know what to do with himself now that he's slain Count Rugen.

The Phillies just slew their six-fingered man.

For a generation, no major team in Philadelphia had won anything. Anything.

We were so desperate for a winner, we claimed racehorses as our own. Not even Smarty Jones could end the drought.

But now...

I walked outside this morning, in the crisp October air, and the weight on my shoulders is gone. The tension, released.

So this is how Yankees fans have felt 26 times. Nice. I like it.

Last night, I got to live a dream. I watched one of my teams—MY teams—win a championship.

I woke the kids, just as my father did for me in 1980. I brought my 4-year-old daughter down in the bottom of the eighth. My one-year-old son I fetched at the start of the ninth.

C.J. was none too pleased to be woken up. Sorry, sweetie. You'll thank me later.

Sean clung to my shoulder for a little while as he slowly regained consciousness. He didn't really appreciate what was going on, but he saw that Daddy was happy. And figured he should be, too.

They then both went to my wife, C.J. still pretty out of it. Sean, tired but smiling broadly. Something good was going on.

My neighbor and friend joined us, although I warned him going in that if it looked bad, I was throwing him out.

There we were, three outs to go. 

Then two. 

Then one.

There I sat at the edge of my seat, disbelief in my eyes, hands to my face in an attempt prevent hyperventilation. Even as I write this, my pulse quickens and fingers still tingle.

And then... something wicked this way comes. The eloquent line from Shakespeare's Macbeth, now the perfect description of the brutal slider delivered by the Phillies' Brad Lidge. The same wicked slider that Lidge relied on all season long, buries itself deep into Carlos Ruiz's glove.

Perfection.

Lidge was perfect all season, going 47-for-47 in save opportunities. The Phillies were perfect at home in this postseason, 7-for-7.

And the scene that ensued was the perfect ending for this wild ride that this team—and this town—has been on.

Forever burned into our collective memories now is the sight of Lidge falling to his knees, met by Ruiz, and then bulldozed to the ground by Ryan Howard.

It joins the ranks of our beloved Tug McGraw striking out Willie Wilson, leaping in the air, then hosting Mike Schmidt in the air in celebration.

And there on the screen it unfolded. Together with my children, WE celebrated.

Tomorrow is Halloween, and there will be parade down Broad Street. But the typical costumes reserved for Philly parades won't be feathers sported by Mummers. Instead, those riding the floats will be wearing shirts that read, "2008 World Champion Philadelphia Phillies."

And they won't be pretending to be champions. They are champions. 

Finally.

My father and brother will be there. But my place is with my kids, patrolling the neighborhood here in Tennessee, wearing our own costumes, and saying, "Trick or Treat."

It pains me to miss the party, but I got my treat last night.