Go Phillies!

When I was a kid, I was obsessed with baseball.  Countless hours were spent pretending I could field second base or swing the bat like Sweet Lou Whitaker.  Baseball games were only televised on Saturday afternoons and I would comb through the TV Guide magazine to figure out of my beloved Detroit Tigers would be on television.  Most kids my age watched the Smurfs while I watched This Week In Baseball.

Gumpy and I shared a love of baseball.  We both appreciated the acuity needed to hit a baseball just as much as the atmosphere at a major-league ballpark.  Summers would be spent talking baseball, watching baseball and listening to baseball.  Tiger baseball was preferred but not required.

Last year, my sister won a fantasy baseball contest.  The rules required her to pick from a list of players who would have the best month for each month of the baseball season.  Our 30 minute conversation on who she should pick netted us an all-expenses paid trip to the World Series in Philadelphia, a baseball autographed by "The Line" Al Kaline, memories that will last a lifetime and a deep wish Gumpy had lived long enough for me to dissect the trip with.

Being inside the stadium for the World Series was incredible.  The architect who designed Detroit's Comerica Park also designed Philly's Citizens Bank Park, so the sight lines were incredible.  Game four was cold but neither Rebekah or I cared, we were at the freakin' World Series.  We were on the edge of our seats until Brad Lidge came in the game, which is when Philly fan became convinced that they would loose.  Johnny Damon stealing second and third in the top of the ninth for the Yankees took the wind out of our sails.  It was then I remembered that I hate the Yankees and found that I was quickly becoming a big Phillies fan.

Since Gumpy had passed away five months before this trip, I can only imagine what we would have talked about.  I know the Alex Rodriguez go-ahead double in the ninth after a his slow hitting start to the World Series would have been a topic of discussion.  We would have dissected Charlie Manuel's decisions throughout the game and the Phillies having C.C. Sabathia on the ropes, then being unable to deliver the knockout punch.  He would have talked about what it was like to be in St. Louis for the 1968 World Series with my Uncle Jim, watching the Tigers take on the Cardinals.

Walking in and out of Citizens Bank Park that night, I paused to think about Gumpy.  All I could do is smile because I know how much he would have enjoyed living vicariously through Rebekah and I that night.  And I would have happily spent all night talking baseball with the Old Boy.

Go Phillies!