I didn’t realize how much I cared about the Phillies winning until I realized we could lose.
This has been a weird series for me. It has been ever since the Giants won the division series and my live-in boyfriend (he grew up in the Bay Area) and I set some ground rules: namely, no talking about the series, and if we did watch the games together, no more than one drink per person. Turns out the rules were moot because I am traveling for work, of all places, of all weeks, in San Francisco–and I can hear those lousy Giants fan cheering prematurely outside my hotel room.
I first got into the Phillies when I was sixteen, and my baby brother was five, and I took it upon myself that he have an opportunity to grow up like a real-live boy–with boxers and guitars and baseball games–three older sisters aside. I was determined to give Moshe a childhood experience that wasn’t completely warped by the Orthodox Jewish household we grew up in, or my Jewish Russian father who still thinks sports are a waste of time. I was determined to carve my own so-called normal American existence.
Moshe and I have been going to Phillies games every summer since. This year we had the unfortunate luck of seeing Roy Halladay choke–at Yankee Stadium no less. We got heckled; we heckled those Connecticut yuppies right back. I had the even more unfortunate luck of seeing Halladay choke at Dodger Stadium later this summer. (Incidentally I was not watching either of the times he pitched no-hitters.) Moshe likes to chalk it all up to being a Philadelphia-fan, and I’m inclined to agree. It’s also part of being a Datskovsky.
Which is why it felt like a sucker-punch to the stomach tonight when I checked my phone and saw the Phillies were down two, then up two, then down one, then tied, then down again for the loss. I never watch the divisional series. It’s a measure of self-preservation. I usually watch the NLCS. Maybe it is because I moved further away from home, and my brother, than I ever have before–but this year, my heart may very well actually break tomorrow.
And no, I will not be watching. Halladay is pitching.