City of Pain

I woke up in the middle of the night last night and I thought I was being abducted by aliens. I’m totally serious. There were beings all around me, hazy creatures talking to me, and I was scared. As I tried to focus my eyes on these things, I slowly realized what I was looking at: Dead Phillies. There, in my bedroom, was Richie Ashburn, John Vukovich, and Tug McGraw. All three of them, in my room, staring at me. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Some of the greatest Phillies in the history of this team (and John Vukovich) were apparently here to see me. I wanted to wake up the girl who had stayed over last night, but from the looks of her she’d been dead for at least two hours and the sweet smell of Richie Ashburn’s pipe was most likely covering up the scent of my most recent, fresh kill.

“I know who all of you are”, I whispered, “but I’m not sure why you are here?”

The Tugger, who did most of the talking last night while Richie and Vuk looked on said, “We’re here because you are the only one who understands. We’re here to tell you that’s it’s going to be ok. And we want you to tell this city that they should not be afraid.”

I felt like Keanu Reeves in The Matrix or something, minus the bad acting and unusually low IQ. “The city is afraid right now. You are correct”, I agreed. “They are afraid of Manny, they are afraid of a team that swept the Cubs with ease, and they are afraid of being losers again.”

Tug smiled at me with a shit-eating grin. “Have you seen that piece of ass my son Tim is banging? Holy fuck man. I remember a few years back, right before I passed on, they were down at the shore at my house for the week. Beers, great food, tons of weed, I mean it was awesome. We were on the beach and Faith was wearing some skimpy bikini that showed off her clam, I mean you have no idea. They don’t make honey-baked ham like that up North my friend. You want to talk about afraid? I was afraid about what Tim would say when I locked her in my closet and pretended she went to the grocery store. Thankfully I never got the chance.”…..”But anyway, I understand why people are afraid. And me, Richie, and John are here to tell you what to do. We want you to communicate our message to the people of Philadelphia.”

I was hesitant. “Guys, I only have a blog. There are tons of them that cover Philly sports. Why wouldn’t you contact the others. Why are you coming to me? Why not go to the 700level.com? It may look like it was created with Microsoft Paint and continually has zero effort put into the writing, but they have a bigger audience?”

“Simple,” Ashburn spoke up, “all of the other Philadelphia blogs are dog shit. I’ve seen them and they are all recycled news websites. Boring. Unoriginal. None of them have any real substance whatsoever. The people who run Philly.com have no idea what a real blog is. None. They fear your message, and they are threatened by it. You understand what this city needs, therefore, we want you to pass along the word.”

“Tell me what to tell them. I’ll do it”, I pronounced. How could I turn these guys down?

“The first thing they need to know”, Tugger began, “is that they hold the key to the series. The fans can unlock the door that leads to the promised land. Tell them to be louder than they’ve ever been. Tell them they need to extinguish all mental and physical anxiety from their bodies. Tell them that the power of belief, even though it’s a bunch of bullshit when it comes to religion, will work in the world of sports if you believe enough. If they don’t believe, then they are lost, and the team will lose.”

This all made sense to me. Not only was I fully awake, but I was mildly aroused at the prospect of victory.

Tug soldiered on. “I want you to tell them that 25 games ago, the Dodgers were 67-70. Sure, they got hot at the end, but that doesn’t change who they really are. They are frauds. Their pitching has been lucky, and their bullpen is soft. The people need to know all of this. The Phillies have the best pitcher in Hamels, the better lineup, the best closer in Lidge, and the most powerful home field advantage in all of baseball. Take Manny out of that lineup and that team is a .500 team full of Latin scum.”

“And tell the fans that Derek Lowe is nothing but a faggot”, Vuk finally chimed in. It ended up being the only thing that he said last night, but it was the most poignant. I will never forget those words and fully plan on repeating them all series long.

I was speechless…inspired. “I feel the same way you guys do. I felt like I was the only one. I’m not scared guys, I’m ready. This feels like 1993 all over again, and yes people are afraid of being let down. We need to find hope again. People may not listen to me, but they will absolutely listen to you.”

“One final thing,” The Tugger began to whisper, “this city is going to experience world championships very soon. Multiple championships. It’s written into the fabric of the universe, into the binary code of existence. For cities with teams in all four major sports, balance is always restored. Always. It’s actual mathematics that dictate when, where, and how. There are many factors and variables that drive the equation, but the one piece that has been missing from the equation is ironically the one only these fans can control. Belief. Belief, karma, Zen, whatever you want to call it. It isn’t the most important reason teams win, but it’s bigger than you may think.”

“Why do you think all of those pathetic fans in St. Louis have won titles recently?” Ashburn scowled. “All they do is support their teams, rarely boo, and what happens? A Rams title in 1999 led by a grocery-bagging Jesus freak. A Jeff Weaver led Cardinals teams that didn’t even belong in the playoffs win the World Series in 2006. It’s mind numbing. Look at Tampa, Indy, Arizona, Carolina, the FUCKING FLORIDA MARLINS TWICE! Happy-go-lucky shithead fans who just go to the ballpark, have a good time, and win more than us. It gives me diarrhea.”

I finally understood what they meant. This time of the year in baseball should be about being positive, never getting down no matter what inning, and visualizing victory. I was ready…..I focused on Tug McGraw. I saw the picture of him leaping into the air after the Phillies won their only World Series in 1980. I was too young to remember, but at that moment I felt like I was there. I remembered him dying recently of brain cancer. I remember being sad when I heard the news. He was front and center for the biggest moment in team history. The Tugger. Ashburn and Vuk were gone. It was just me and Tug. I took one final glance over at him last night, and he began to fade away into the darkness. He looked to the floor and shook his head, almost sadly. He looked empty.

“They have to believe. I’m afraid of what may happen to this city if this all continues. It’s pure evil. Something must change, and it must start with them, the fans. Ask them to remember me and what I said to you. Tell them to think of the Tugger.”

And in the flash of an eye, he disappeared.