Rain, Rain, (Snow, Snow) Go Away!

Much like the World Series, the Phanhood has been on hold for a few days trying to figure out what it has to say. Let me try to explain.

Monday afternoon, I chose to venture down to the city for what everyone thought would be a Game 5 clincher. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced in my lifetime as a Philly sports fan. Around 5:30 PM, there were more people on the trains going to the city than from it. The most popular discussion on board was, "Where are you going to celebrate? South Street? Broad Street? Near the stadium?," not the Philadelphia-requisite "I'm so worried that Hamels is due for a bad game," or "You think our bats will stay hot?" Every fan seemed to know Hamels was going to pitch a gem, our bats would stay hot, and the biggest drama of the evening would be whether or not it would be possible to catch the last train home, kindly moved from its normal schedule to "one hour after the last pitch" by SEPTA. Everyone knew we were going to win and everyone was going to the city to enjoy it. The bars downtown were overflowing, with people lined up to get into bars that likely never see more than an average of 10 patrons an evening. The first inning provided 2 Phillies runs and excitement was rapidly growing into pandemonium. I'm not even kidding, it would have been the wildest night in the history of mankind.

And then...

It started raining. Not too heavily at first, but enough to prompt the Sober Sally's of the group to ask what happened if the game was rained out. Speculation began to run rampant as to whether the fifth inning-official game policy applied to the World Series. We fans soldiered on, almost hoping for every half inning to be a 1-2-3 inning, just so we could get the game in and get our celebration on. Several fans pointed out that celebrating in the rain would be sweet because alot of women were wearing white Phillies jerseys. Yes, we all thought, a championship riot in the rain would be a blast! As the game wore on and the weather grew more fierce, only the most fervent riot optimists thought it could still happen. (By the way, they rioted in State College this weekend after the Penn St.-Ohio St. game. I must admit to you that I am EXTREMELY jealous that I never was a part of a State College riot. I was involved in some near riots, including after the Eagles won the NFC championship game in 2004, but the revelry never descended into bedlam. No cars were damaged, no lamp posts felled. All in all, I may never have wished more to have been in State College during a non-football, non-festival weekend. I am sad.)

When the game was finally delayed, the energy was sucked out of the establishment we were in. Those who figured they would just go to work hungover the next morning filtered out of the building half glad to avoid a hangover, 100% sad to have our celebration delayed. Tuesday would be awesome, we all figured. Just another excuse to come downtown for another night and do it up even bigger. But then, on Tuesday, it snowed in the Philadelphia region. SNOWED! Last winter, I can think of maybe three storms that resulted in any kind of accumulation whatsoever, and they were all in December-January-February. This is October. I'm not sure I can remember that many significant frosts this early, let alone a snowfall that turned my neighborhood white. It was while staring out my window at this pre-Halloween winter wonderland that I decided what had gone wrong. We got too cocky and this was God admonishing us instead of punishing us. He wouldn't take our championship just yet, but he was going to make us realize that we, of all cities, should not feel so confident as to discuss which street we were going to view the celebration from. We should not feel so confident as to come down to the city on a Monday night because we were obviously going to clinch that night. Well, God, I got your message loud and clear. I am going to watch tonight's 3 innings in the same way I've watched most other games this year, in the suburbs, either at home, a friend's house, or a local establishment. In any case, I will not openly discuss any celebration, any long processions down a certain street leading to a certain landmark adorned by a certain character who has cursed us ever since his perch atop the city was exceeded by Liberty Place. Philadelphia, God has warned us. Let's take heed and not get ahead of ourselves. Let's watch this game from our lucky spot on the couch, lucky seat at the local bar. Let's leave the city to those who normally view games there, those who live there. We'll have our time in the sun, just as long as we humbly wait until the last pitch leaves Brad Lidge's hands to unleash all the energy we've built up over the years. As we all know, it's always sunny in Philadelphia.

As for any other sports discussion, topics including, but not limited to, Penn St. football, Eagles, and Sixers, those discussions will resume once this Game 5 situation is resolved. Thank you for your patience.