Ok, now you know that I usually like to keep these things strictly about West Chester. Ok, so that’s really a lie if you consider last week’s trick or treating expose. Outside of that one— and a few odd detours here and there— my editorials are
USUALLY about West Chester.
This week will NOT be about our beloved institution of higher learning. It’s certainly not for a lack of material though, no sir. Take for example why South Campus has a computer lab with NO printer in it. What could possibly be the point of having a computer lab without a printer? Do they think we don’t have computers in our rooms? Does the shuttle loop travel through a black hole, transporting us all back to an age before personal computers were widely available?
I’m glad to see that our technology fee money is being put to such good use. Buy a printer South Campus.
Alright. Feels good to get that out. I feel lighter, more capable of taking on what I really wanted to talk about today. You know that bit I mentioned earlier that doesn’t have anything to do with WCU?
I’m sure that you’ve heard by now that the Philadelphia Phillies were defeated in their quest to repeat as World Series Champions by the New York Yankees last Thursday.
Yes, I know. Joaquin Phoenix sigh and all that. It was a sad day for all of us who cheer for the perennial underdog, the losingest franchise in professional sports, our beloved Fightin’ Phils.
Surprisingly, I was not that disappointed by the loss. Normally, an event like the end of one of my favorite sports team’s seasons would have be enough to launch me into a moping fit so extreme that nothing— be it man or beast— could drag me out of it.
After the Phils lost game four of the series, falling into a 3-1 deficit in the process, I was so depressed that I actually sat down and sought consolation in “Paul Blart: Mall Cop.” Interestingly enough, it almost worked.
Maybe it’s because the Phils were never really in game six. They fell behind early and gave up runs often. At one point they were in a six run hole, before losing by a 7-3 final.
Four runs may not seem like much but in the World Series it may as well be 24. With a closer like Mariano River, make it 44.
The game was out of hand if you catch my drift, so I was fully prepared mentally for the end result. I’d made peace with it and was able to appreciate the Phillies accomplishment for just what it was.
Over the last two seasons, the Phillies have given their fans a remarkable 353 games, considerably more then any other team in baseball. This group, even if they win another title, will go down in history as one of the best teams Philadelphia has ever fielded in any sport. Their accomplishment last season— ending a 25 year title drought— will never be forgotten.
We were able to witness a Phillies World Championship, something that has only happened TWO times in 126 years. For the record, that’s slightly more common than Haley’s comet (once every 76 years) but less common than a good Michael Bay movie (never).
This Series boiled down more to what the Yankees DID then to what the Phils didn’t do. So what can you do but tip your cap to them and their fans. Congrats on a Series well played. You deserved this one, but be warned: the Phils are far from done.
Next year if Cole Hamels decides to throw like a halfway competent pitcher, or if Ryan Howard gets hot a week later then he did this year, we’re potentially looking at a totally different result.
Of course, all of that is nothing more than the ravings of a madman who misses his baseball team already. The baseball season is a long ways away. Nothing to do now but sit back and enjoy the sport of kings, America’s game— NHL hockey. Giddy-up! A wise man once said: “Get inside, the Flyers are on!” As true today as when it was spoken.