World Champions
It isn’t the mighty Red Sox, the lovable Cubs, the majestic Dodgers, the feel-good Brewers or the worst-to-first, miraculous Tampa Bay Rays. It isn’t even the Yankees.
It is the forgotten Phillies who are the story of 2008.
They were the team that time forgot, in a great sports city that championships somehow forgot. Not anymore.
It is the Phillies, who had one championship in their 125-year, 10,000-loss history, who are World Champions now. It is the Phillies, whose previous championship came nearly three decades ago, who are World Champions now. It is Philadelphia, which hadn’t sniffed a title in a quarter-century, who is World Champion now.
No one saw this coming until the moment had nearly arrived. There was a chance, sure, there’s always a chance, even in the face of a generation-long drought. But no one looked at this Phillies roster on paper and said, “That’s a World Champion.” They can say it now. It is forever now.
We are World Champions.
There is the homegrown talent, and then there is general manager Pat Gillick. He didn’t build for next year, didn’t build for years down the road. He built for now. And he didn’t assemble an all-star team, he assembled a team.
He built chemistry. And he made the move of all moves in the offseason. He got Brad Lidge.
Lidge, a finely tuned, world class athlete. Lidge, the best closer in baseball. Lidge, who overcame a mental and professional crisis to come back perfect, to close out the World Series. In Philadelphia, no less, in a place where he found acceptance and where, months before this moment, he decided to stay. The ultimate redemption story in the ultimate redemption city.
Human. That’s what this team is. Both flashy and ugly at the same time. Smooth one moment, a heart attack the next. Going deep or leaving guys on base. Stealing third or striking out. Turning two or getting picked off. Ups and downs, yet somehow finding a way.
Like you and me.
A Jimmy Rollins lovers’ spat. A guy with emotional issues who spent time in the minors. A manager who has turned from bumpkin into a backwoods Baryshnikov, berated to appreciated, lampooned to loved.
But it’s not about this guy or that guy or a cast of characters, because sometimes it’s that guy and sometimes it’s this guy who gets it done for our Phillies, a team with character, a team whose whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
Forgotten no more. That’s the Phillies. That’s Philadelphia.
That’s us.
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