November 6, 2008

WINNER!

Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? That’s what you want to be. Whether it’s in sports, gambling or politics, everyone wants to be on the right side of any competition. So much so that people will do almost anything to achieve victory, winning’s just so much more fun.

Unfortunately, in rooting for a team, the outcome is never in our hands, although, many of us could make the right decision in game management for our local heroes, every time. And yes, I said local heroes. Often, behind the bar, it is assumed that I’m a die-hard Cubs fan because I work at Harry Caray’s. Location. Aren’t they surprised (confused, shocked, amused, indifferent) when they learn the truth. My standard reply is, “I can’t help where I was raised.” I root for the teams that I have followed (lived/died with) since I was a youngster. As I’ve gotten older, and lived in Chicago for 15 years, there are other teams that I casually root for, the locals here among them, but none of them has taken the place in my heart of the teams from my hometown.

Lately though, I’ve seriously questioned this undying loyalty. Not the team part, but the consumed by the result part. I don’t expect my team to win all of the time, but more than every 3 decades would be nice. Watching sports, and following a team, is supposed to be a diversion, a guilty pleasure, not an endless source of frustration. In one of my infrequent lucid moments, I’m able to put the proper perspective on my rooting problem, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. I lived for the off-season, because next year could be the one.

Then came this year’s Phillies. As I’ve said often, this was not a team that inspired a lot of optimism in the guy with the red bow tie. Not because of their ability, but their maddening ability to always be thisclose to being that good. Cynicism vs. reality. It’s the mental tightrope that is walked by fans of also-rans everywhere. I don’t want to think the worst, but I can only have my heart broken so many times.

I often got asked how I was enjoying the playoffs, and my response of, “Not at all!” would get me many curious looks. My follow-up explanation of the fact that the closer the Phils got only heightened my sense of inevitable doom was lost on all but Cubs fans. They understood.

It’s tough to watch a game while you’re working, and feeling like you’re going to vomit, always one pitch from disaster. I joked at work that I was waiting for the anvil to land on my head, and that I was on the look-out for a truck parked in front of the restaurant with “Acme Supply Co.” printed on its side.
Well, drum roll please…………, my (and for millions just like me) suffering is O-VAH! (Thank you Hawk-a-roo!) What am I going to do now?

It’s hard to describe (and understand) what I’m feeling right now. Always convinced, until the very end that it wouldn’t have a happy ending, finally, a season did. Mostly, I smile a lot. Not that constant, uncomfortable, Phil Mickelson smile, but that, I can’t believe this just happened smile, that usually happens when no one else is around.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a “Frankie O” story without a plot twist, and this one was typical. I was fortunate enough to have friends that enabled me the ability to get tickets to Game 5. Then I was fortunate to get a 24 hour “hall-pass” from the “boss of all bosses”. Could it be? The Phils were playing in a game that they could clinch the World Series, and I was going to be there?

In the words of Mr. Dickens, “It was the best of times……” The weather was a constant threat, but that’s October. I arrived in the afternoon, headed to “Chickie and Pete’s” and it was game on! It was awesome to see family and friends, the anticipation in the air was palpable, and for me, best of all, everyone was dressed in RED! There would be no suffering surrounded by people who didn’t “get it” this time.

On to the ballpark and a little tailgating, Philly style; hoagies, Herr’s chips and a bunch of coldies! (Hello officer! Would you like a beer? Cap on or off?) Can this really be happening? As the sun set, the cold moved in, but who cares? This is October baseball!

It was agreed to get in to the stadium early, to soak it all in. Once we were inside, it started. A few drops at first, then a constant drizzle. It didn’t stop the party, but I had one eye (one big eye, one little eye!) glued to the field. There was no tarp, so I guess they expect it to blow over. Then it was game-time! And what’s this? The rain had stopped. Maybe I should stop being so negative.

Not an empty seat in the house, and the noise was deafening. Cole Hamels on the mound, as Wany would say, “All the pieces are in place.”

Shane Victorino’s 2-run single in the bottom of the 1st meant we were on our way. Next, was what I refer to as the “buzz-kill”.

Again it started as a small drizzle in the second inning, nothing much, it’ll blow over. Then it got heavier and heavier. Colder and colder. How is it not snowing? By the 4th inning, I can honestly say, it was the worst outdoor conditions I’ve ever watched any game in. This is ridiculous. Why don’t they have a delay? My boy, Bud Selig, that’s why. Are you kidding me? I could pound Bud all-day, but what’s the use. Once again he failed to understand the situation in front of him, and looked like his incompetent self in dealing with yet another mess. Delay the game Bud! Why did you have to wait for a tie score? No one would argue that every World Series game ensures a team 27 outs. This isn’t get-away day in Cleveland in June. This is the WORLD SERIES! It’s your marquis event, treat it as such. Having infielders play with puddles the size of Rhode Island in the infield is embarrassing, not to mention dangerous. But I digress, this is no time to let Bud rain on my parade.

By the time the game was “suspended” in the bottom of the 6th, nothing around me was what I visualized on my flight to the game. 47,000 wet and stunned people was something only a negative person would have envisioned, not me, Mr. Positive.

Although there was still baseball to be played, everyone filed slowly out of the stadium as if we had lost. Those who would try to start cheers of encouragement were greeted with silence and stares for their efforts. This all feels eerily familiar. I’m having Cubs/Marlins Game 6 flashbacks, when I watched someone else’s dreams come crashing down.

When it was announced that no make-up date was known, I shrugged and chided myself for not seeing this coming. The way home for the evening included few words, only that familiar feeling. The silence in the car was broken by the morons on the radio talking about those trying to get back in to the continuation of the game without their tickets, since some people discard them when they go in. What? It’s a freaking WORLD SERIES TICKET! Why would you not guard that with your life? If ever there was something that you saved, this would be it. Honestly! At least it was good for a laugh.

On the way to the airport Tuesday morning, I could only shake my head. I mean, what are you going to do? The “Boss” asked if I was going to stay and wait out the delay and gave her blessing, for a day at least, but with the uncertainty of the weather that wasn’t going to be an option. The people venting on the radio was soothing, as were the Tastycakes I purchased to take home, only all of them weren’t going to make it that far. After the 2-hour delay of my flight, I took my seat on the plane and I smiled, only me. As I opened my butterscotch krimpets, another passenger noticed my Phillies shirt and asked if I was at the game. Talk about walking into a buzz-saw. He never had a chance.

To be continued….