But these Phillies breezed through one postseason and now seemed poised to do it again.
Maybe the Philly paradigm has shifted.
Maybe all those old cynics like me who, no matter how calm and pleasant things may appear, are gazing out toward the horizon, waiting for the funnel cloud (see '64 Phils) to come into view, will finally shed that skin of negativity.
Yeah, right.
Anyway, like I was saying, I've got this bad feeling about Game 5 . . ..
Catch us if you can
Game 4 was over. Finally.
It was past midnight. And after waiting 20 minutes to enter, with deadlines looming like evil specters on our shoulders (or were those clumsy TV cameramen?), the media were finally admitted to the victorious Phillies' clubhouse.
There, in the middle of the room, stood a sizable gaggle of players - until they saw us.
At that point, the Phils hightailed it, en masse, to those off-limits havens of the clubhouse, safely out of camera, tape recorder and notebook range.
Thanks, guys.
They're back
And speaking of teams that often hid from the media, I've seen more of the '93 Phillies in this postseason then I did in '93.
Mitch Williams. Darren Daulton. Mickey Morandini. John Kruk. Ruben Amaro Jr. Larry Andersen. Mariano Duncan. They're everywhere.
If the trend continues, we're likely to see Wes Chamberlain doing an anthem, Donnie Pall throwing out a first pitch, and Jim Fregosi on Phillies Postgame Live.
"Realistically, Michael, I think Utley is just in a little mix-up."
The genius of Section 235
The best and worst things about watching a game in close proximity to the fans are the fans.
Most are avid, upbeat, well-behaved.
Some are obnoxious, a species best exemplified by the Genius in Section 235.
This young man, in a light-blue Cliff Lee T-shirt, thought he was funny. He also thought the Dodgers players could hear him.
