I almost said “Rockies have Rocky Start” or something stupid, but it’s the playoffs; this is not a time to be cute.
Amidst a sea of rally towels, that looked more like 46,252 ghosts, all of whom had been pherocious Phillies fans in life, Cliff Lee pitched the gem that we all knew he had in him.
Apparently, pitching talent spawns in your ears.
But it was a beautiful sight to see him take a 3-hit shut out in the bottom of the ninth. Not only does it put aside the question marks dancing around the bullpen, but it put an extra kick in the ass to anybody wearing Rockies’ pants.
Two years ago, after witnessing the first Phillies playoff game in years go down in flames, we were leaving the ballpark with a much angrier, pissy-er, drunken-er mindset.
On this day, angry and pissy we weren’t.
Two strikes on what we all thought was his final batter, and the largest Citizens Bank Park crowd in history was spewing, screaming, and salivating for the head of the Rockies on a silver platter. It was the last few seconds of a lopsided Mortal Kombat match.
“FINISH HIM!” we cried.
And then that thing happened that happens in real life sports, where a flukey base hit knocks in a meaningless run and we have to wait to celebrate the win and the CG shutout is ruined. In any Hollywood script, Cliff strikes the guy out, slow zoom out on him hugging his dad, who finally respects him, and end credits roll.
A hell of a show. The Rockies came into our house in 2007 and made us quickly forget the Mets’ collapse as we suffered one just as painful (though perhaps not as prolonged).
Today, we made one thing clear. We’re the Phillies.
And we’re the World Phucking Champions.