Now That's What I Call A Storybook Ending.

Wow. I mean, wow. I know I haven't written anything in almost two months. Forgive me, for I have been busy. Also, about midway through the Phillies' run to the series, I decided not to update the blog for fear of jinxing anything. To be quite honest, it gave me what felt like a worthwhile excuse to be lazy, but whatever. The Phillies won the fucking World Series.

I have also found over the last couple months that it is much harder to consistently update a blog when living on your own in NYC than it is to update one when living with your parents in Philly. There are way more distractions here. Not that I'm complaining. And, to be honest, this will probably be my last post. It's not that I'm opposed to half-assing things - if I thought I could consistently half ass this blog, believe me, I would. But over the last few months this I've been quarter-assing this at best, and that's not something I want to keep doing.

Anyway, onto the Phillies - holy shit. I mean, it STILL hasn't really hit me. I spent Friday in Philadelphia having the time of my life with 2 million equally joyous people and it still hasn't entirely sunk in. And that's okay. I've got all the time in the world for that to happen. My life is forever changed for the better, and I have the Phillies thank for it. The Phillies. The Mother. Fucking. Phillies. The, in the immortal words of Chase Utley, "world fucking champion" Phillies. Good god, I will never get tired of that phrase.

When the Phillies won the World Series, after one of the more bizarre stretches in the history of playoff baseball, I was in New York. I was unfortunately at work when it happened, but shortly thereafter I was in a bar co-owned by a Phillies fan, celebrating with him and a few other equally elated and shocked Philly fans, none of whom I had previously met. It didn't matter. We celebrated deep into the night, and when I awoke Thursday afternoon with a giant smile on my face, it was time to head to Philly. After a subdued Thrusday night spent taking in recorded footage of the local post game coverage, it was time for a day about which I have spent many years dreaming. The day of the Phillies' World Series parade. Oh my.

Friday did not disappoint, even though SEPTA tried its hardest to fail miserably. And, for the most part, they did. I went to catch a 10:30 train downtown - it passed by me and everyone else on the platform. It was already full. This was not an uncommon occurrence throughout the city. Fortunately I randomly ran into a buddy of mine at the station and he was able to give me and my buddy Zach a ride downtown and our march toward the parade had begun. The streets were filled with jubilant people of all ages. We passed one group of kids who couldn't have been more than 15 years old. "Shouldn't you children be in school?" I asked with a big grin on my face. A girl in a Philles jersey turned to me and said, "Fuck school! 600 kids from our high school are absent today!" Schools weren't closed Friday, but a holiday was certainly observed.

On our way to the parade Zach and I stopped in a liquor store on 17th and JFK. The clerk inside was talking to a coworker about how he already had run 125 debit cards. It was 11:45 am. To say that a lot of people were drinking publicly would be a large understatement.

We finally ended up on the corner of Broad and Pine for the parade. Visibility was far from perfect, but it didn't really matter. The parade was still a great time, and there was literally not a cloud in the sky. We spent the next couple hours just wandering the crowded streets, occasionally hitting nearby bars. By the time I finally hopped on a bus back to New York, I was thoroughly exhausted, but that was quite alright. It was one of the better days of my life.

To close this story out, I'll share one last anecdote from this past week. When I got off the train at 30th Street Station Thursday night, I was standing next to another guy in full Phillies gear. He looked at me and this exchange followed:

Him: It's about damn time.
Me: My sentiments exactly.
Him: You know, it's funny, when I woke up today, the sky was a different shade of blue.
Me: And it always will be man. It always will be.

World fucking champions. It's about damn time.