That King Cole


On a night when the climate seemed to be aware of the calendar’s switch to September, Cole Hamels trotted out to the mound with a single thing on his mind:


It wasn’t as if the Giants had wronged him personally in the past.  There was no instance of insult or a family kidnapping that fueled Cole’s terrorizing of the San Fran starting nine.  But it would have been easy to convince an outsider to baseball that revenge was indeed the case.

The roasting days of summer are far from over, but the past few evenings have incorporated a slight chill into the air.

Could it have been the weather that sparked a memory in Cole’s brain?  Were emotions stirred up that had not been viable since the previous autumn, when a much more high profile baseball game was being played within the confines of Citizens Bank Park?

Whatever it was, it worked, and nine innings, 2 hits, and 9 K’s later, Cole Hamels was back on top.

King Cole’s throne was vacant no more.

There is nothing better than seeing a hero return to form.  All season long, we Phillies fans have had to endure inquisitive remarks and scathing reviews, wondering why, why was this struggling, shaggy-haired surfer dude the reigning World Series MVP?

Had it all been luck?

A dream?

However concerned or frustrated we the fans were, nobody was feeling it harder than Cole.  He knew an adjustment or two was incredibly necessary, it was just a matter of what, when, and where.

Hold on to your hats, folks.  Hurricane Cole is a category five frenzy of dangerous speeds and devastating change-ups.

Welcome back, Cole.  We missed you.