Ten years later, the Phillies are at it again -- in playoff contention, battling to bring home that title that slipped away in the series-ending, dream-shattering Game Six of the 1993 World Series.
They can try all they want. They can even win the World Series, but the 2003 Phils will never redeem the loss of the '93 World Series or make it any less painful. Nor will they be embraced by the Philly fans the way the ball club was ten years ago, solely because they are NOT the '93 Phillies.
Of course everyone, at least every Philly fan, remembers the ninth-inning, World Series-ending pitch from Mitch Williams to Joe Carter. How couldn't we? The title was on the tip of our fingers, and prior to that series, the city had not come remotely close to capturing a title on the baseball diamond since 1983, when the Orioles bested the Phillies in the finals.
Sure it hurt, and yeah fans were angry, upset, and in mourning for a few days. The season was bittersweet, though -- the final pitch was bitter, but the entire season was extra sweet. Years later, we can still look back and reflect -- with a smile on our face -- on not only the success, but the pride that clubhouse exuded, the fan to player relationships, and the memories that would last a lifetime.
It's encouraging to watch Jim Thome put one out every so often, and Pat Burrell and Todd Pratt's bleached hair is rather amusing. But at the same time, we yearn to turn on Comcast and watch the shabby-looking, personality-filled group that included Darren Daulton, Lenny Dykstra, John Kruk, Dave Hollins, Pete Incaviglia, and Mitch "Wild Thing" Williams appear on our television screen.
After placing absolute last in the National League East in 1992, the Phils opened the '93 season with a 27-9 record. That may have been when the entire city of Philadelphia jumped on the bandwagon, but it was then that the Fightin' Phils and their fans bonded. Not to say there were many personal encounters, but the fan-friendly squad became more than the names and numbers on their backs.
In fifth grade, riding my bike down to the Vet during home games was the highlight of my week. I arrived at the players' parking lot seven hours prior to game time with the hopes of getting the ball I caught during batting practice signed by the entire team. By the end of the season, my mission was a Darren Daulton signature away from being accomplished. That year though, I came away with more than an autographed baseball. Along with other Philly fans, I got to know these stars on a more personal level.
Incaviglia chatted with my brother and me about school.
Kevin Stocker and Jim Eisenreich fulfilled each and every autograph request .
Dykstra signed my baseball because I was the only girl in the crowd -- hidden behind the aggressive men.
Daulton waved to me through his black truck window while driving to his "private" parking lot, as my jaw dropped in admiration.
I played catch in Veteran's Stadium during batting practice -- with Larry Anderson.
On the field, they did things that were imitated by Little Leaguers all over.
Off the field, they were wild and spontaneous, but passionate about the game they loved, the city they played for, and the guys they worked with. There were no outsiders, there were no cliques -- they were a family.
That crazy cast of characters did things that were never done before. Remember when the Wild Thing had the game-winning hit to end a seventeen-inning game at four in the morning? When Kruk and Anderson were fined for drinking on a game day because they went to a bar after the game? How opposing centerfielders would not stand where Dyktsra did because they said it looked like a toxic waste dump in center field with the puddles from his tobacco?
The Phillies were the talk of the town that year. Little kids were glued to the TV screen rather than causing trouble in the neighborhood. Listeners were tuned in with Harry Kalas and Richie Ashburn, whose broadcasting styles were being impersonated by aspiring sports commentators. The stadium was packed from the press boxes to the nosebleed seats, and cheers from the Vet, with a few seconds delay, filled the city streets.
If a homeless person owned one piece of clothing, it was a Phillies shirt. The statue of William Penn in Center City wore a specially constructed Phillies hat. Everyone was wearing replica jerseys with the names of Daulton, Dykstra, and Kruk on the backs, not because they were the best players in the Major Leagues, and not because they had millions of dollars in endorsements, but because of the people that were behind the red pinstriped uniforms. Hence the Wild Thing is not despised by Phillies fans because of the character he had, the entertainment he provided, and the personality that still exists despite that unfortunate pitch that for all intents and purposes ended his career. After all, would we have made it there without him?
The 2003 Phils are one and a half games behind in the Wild Card race, but they have a lot more than winning to do if they want to make the city of Philadelphia bleed red and white as it did during the quest for the World Series in 1993.
