Ba-phil-ing

How many times have you gone to check a Phils score this season and ended up just shaking your head? How often do you think about the trajectory of this team's season and say, out loud, the following phrase, just like this:

I just. Don't. Get it.

Every time you think you have this team figured out, they go and surprise you. Just when they seemed to be hitting their mid-season stride, they went into a tailspin from the middle of June through the All-Star break. Then they got hot again, but still couldn't beat the Mets and the Marlins, something I figure they'll have to do at some point if they want to win this division. Now--and I can't believe I'm writing this, though some have been saying it for a while now--I have to ask:

Where on earth is the hitting?

Wasn't this team supposed to be an offensive powerhouse that was going to win a whole bunch of 10-8 games? Wasn't the starting pitching supposed to be the question mark?

Say it with me now: I just. Don't. Get it.

This past Thursday and Friday, the hitting machine that was supposed to be our batting order plated zero runs. Zero. Cole Hamels gave up two earned runs in six innings in Thursday's 3-0 loss to Florida. Then Joe Blanton, in his second straight magnificent start, gives up one hit and strikes out seven over seven innings. And we couldn't get him one lousy run.

To be shut out is embarrassing, to be shut out in extra innings is another thing. And to be shut out in extra innings by the Pittsburgh Pirates, well that's just downright shameful. With a lineup like ours, we should win every single game in which the starter gives up 3 or fewer. Probably even 4.

And yet, somehow, we're still in first place. And Jimmy Rollins seems to be finally waking up. His slumber might explain the dropoff in runs--when Jimmy doesn't set the table, there's no one for the big boys to bring home.

The pitchers are doing their job. Here's hoping the hitters remember how to do theirs.

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Other musings: Those who tell you that the preseason record in football (or in any sport) matters is, with all due respect, an idiot. What matters is the sorting out of the depth chart and other individual performances. So I couldn't care less that the Birds lost their preseason opener. The only stats that matter to me: McNabb, 10 for 13, 97 yards, one touchdown.

Did you know that Bud Light, aside from having "superior drinkability" (see last week's post), also "keeps it coming"? What??? I just. Don't. Get it.

The City of Brotherly Losers

100--count 'em--100 seasons. No championship.

I'm not talking about the Chicago Cubs. I'm talking about the city of Philadelphia.

Last night, as my friend Scott and I watched the Phils hang on by their fingernails for a big win, the desperate plea to the gods of sport was uttered again: "Can't we get just one championship? Please???"

Of all of the cities that have all four major professional sports, no city has gone longer without a championship. Forget the Soul; the last one came when the Sixers won the NBA Finals in 1983. That's 25 seasons times four sports. Ouch.

I feel a little of the pain of Cubs fans. But only a little. After all, they won six NBA titles in eight years with some guy named Jordan. Same reason I didn't feel anything for White Sox fans prior to '05. I didn't feel bad for Boston before 2004 cause the Patriots had just won two of the previous three Super Bowls (whether legitimately or not is another question altogether). I do occasionally feel bad for Cleveland fans, but a) they don't have all four sports, and b) it's not my fault they chose to live in Cleveland. That place made me pine for the time I got lost in Scranton.

Sooner or later, if only based on the laws of probability, this has to end. Doesn't it? The curse of Billy Penn isn't real...right? This can't last forever...can it?

Perhaps Mrs. Bucket, from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, has the answer to our Charlie.

Charlie: But I am different. I want it more than any of them.
Mrs. Bucket: Charlie, you'll get your chance. One day things will change.
Charlie: When? When will they change?
Mrs. Bucket: Probably when you least expect it.
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Other Musings: Did you see the play from Saturday night where the Astros tied up the Mets? It was straight out of "Major League." Special thanks to Kimmie Malecka for finding the link. Click here to watch. A sweet play, made sweeter by the fact that it was against the Mets, and made yet sweeter cause it was against Billy Wagner.

Did you know that Bud Light has "superior drinkability"? Pardon my French, but what the hell does that mean? It's more drinkable than other beers? Come on, people, you made up a word! The characters of Mad Men are somewhere smiling. Or crying. Or both.

A Little Bit O' Soul

As the final seconds of Arena Bowl XXII ticked down yesterday in New Orleans, Jon Bon Jovi got a teaspoon sample of what it's really like to be a Philly sports fan. With just 39 seconds left on the clock and the Soul leading the defending champion San Jose SaberCats 59-42, the majority owner and everyone watching the game thought it was over. Even a Philly team couldn't blow this.

And yet, they almost did.

The SaberCats scored a touchdown but couldn't convert the extra point, making it 59-48. Then they recovered an onside kick, followed immediately by a touchdown pass to the back right corner of the end zone. The two-point conversion was good, and suddenly, inside of 15 seconds, the lead shrank to just a field goal.

In those 15 seconds, Jon Bon Jovi went from planning his victory celebration to livin' on a prayer. A prayer that his Soul wouldn't become the latest chapter in the tome of Philadelphia disappointment. The smile and the color in his face disappeared. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were wider than footballs. He began to pace the sidelines, running his hands nervously through his gelled Eurotrash coif.

And I thought, 'Jon Bon Jovi, welcome to our world.'

Yet somehow, some way, the ensuing onside kick bounced mercifully into the lap of Rod Davis, already laid out on the Superdome turf. A few heaves into the stands by stud quarterback Matt D'Orazio and the Soul became the first professional sports team to win a championship for the city of Philadelphia since 1983.

Sure, it's just Arena Football. And like most of us, I'll take a division title in any of the four major sports over winning the Arena Bowl. But it's nice to win it all in something, even if it's relatively insignificant. It's nice to be able to say that we are the champions of a professional sport. First time in my conscious lifetime. So I'll take it.

But I don't think I'll be attending the victory parade.