Return to Sender: Phanaticism

To the 2008 Philadelphia Phillies:

I've heard many people say that the first team you go see is the team you root for the rest of your life.

The Phillies were my second, but I wasn't exactly going to cheer on Barry Bonds (I was at the first Fourth of July game played in AT&T Park, back when they called it Pacific Bell), and so from the first time I went to see the Phils play, on the season opener of the team's last year at the Vet, they became my team.

Here's the thing: I grew up in a city that was basically without professional sports. The only thing we had was the El Paso Diablos, a minor league team that wasn't even affiliated with the MLB. But once in a while, on mascot night, we'd get a special visit from the Phillie Phanatic (usually with the San Diego Chicken, which I don't think even belongs to a team), so when I moved to Philly, I was already used to cheering the fuzzy green guy on.

But I would be lying if I said I faithfully followed the Phils. I'd go to a game or two every season, watch them on TV if I was out and they were on. Unfortunately, though, my attention span makes me a better football fan than baseball fan, so it was a rare event that I'd able to sit down and watch nine innings on TV without at least grabbing a book or my laptop, too. I wasn't a fair weather fan by any means: I didn't cheer for anybody else, and I was always psyched about wins. But a baseball season has 162 games in it. You'll have to forgive me for not hanging on all of them.

And still, without my doing anything to change the situation, my love for the Phils grew. When I turned 21 and started visiting (rather than sneaking into) bars, I found that I loved the crowds that would turn up to watch Phillies games. I'd always had a love for baseball from a historical standpoint, but I was loving the sociology of the crowds, too. I was loving watching how much everyone loved watching the game. There's a scene in Walker Percy's novel The Moviegoer—and forgive me, because it's been years since I've read it, so I'm not going to be too exact here—where the protagonist, sitting in a movie theater, turns around and watches the faces of the others who are watching the movie, rather than watching the film himself. This is how he loves movies. That is how I love sports. It transforms people. Say what you will about the asshole Philly fans: nobody else lives and breathes for their teams like the Philadelphians do.

I met Ross at a Phillies game. I actually shot him down at a Phillies game. And yet here we are, a year and a half later, cohabitating in Northern Liberties with "Go Phillies!" signs in our windows. We watched Brad Lidge's last pitch together in the back room at The Fire. I watched the crowd around me go wild. I went wild. For a moment, I even wept. The whole city came alive. And I realized something: I've been living and breathing for this moment, too.

Image Credit: Flickr user amysh.