Get home from work. Long day. Hot. Stinking hot. Head to roof to unwind, take in view of city. Still hot. Come back inside, catch up on the Philly sports reading for the day. Seriously considering nap. Thought interrupted by knock on door.
“You want to go to the Phillies game tonight?”
Well, this was a brilliant and marvelous idea and I was out of my chair and on the subway in the blink of an eye. I mean, it was absolutely the perfect evening for a ballgame. Plus, Cole Hamels was pitching, and I had the inkling that this was the night he was going to really get back into form. Double plus, it was Charlie Manuel Bobble-Head Night.
Even though Charlie Manuel Bobble-Belly Night would have been much, much funnier.
So, $19 tickets in hand, my two comrades and I ventured first to acquire some Schmitters and beer, perhaps the quintessential pairing for a Phillies game. Delicious. Plus, the World Series Trophy, aka The Holy Grail, was located right next to the food line. It’s gold shimmered in the eyes of the Phillies Faithfuls like a beacon of truth, hope, and happiness. I wanted to hold it, to cradle it in my arms and serenade it with lullabies before putting it to rest on my mantle, but the thought of being madly chased by 1,000 screaming Philadelphians quickly brought me to my senses.
Supplies in hand, it was off to the heights of the 400 level, nestled in the peaks of Citizens Bank Park. Now, the problem with the 400 level is simple – you never know who will be sitting up there. Continue reading