I had the misfortune to be in New York City when the Phillies won. I don’t have a TV here, but I listened to the game on the radio, wearing my Phillies cap. When it was over I was so excited I wanted to celebrate with someone, but I was alone. I called my brother in Philly, but he had turned off his phone, so I went out and roamed the streets of Manhattan at 10:30, looking for fellow revelers. You would have thought somebody important had died, the streets were so quiet and empty. I paused outside a neighborhood bar trying to catch a glimpse of their TV screen, but it was showing FOOTBALL! I continued on to my favorite diner, open 7/24, where the only occupants were two sleepy waiters. At least their TV was tuned to the right channel.
“I’m from Philadelphia, and I just wanted…” I trailed off.
“Oh,” said one sleepy waiter. “You won.”
“Congratulations,” said the other, in the midst of a yawn.
Back to sleep.
The manager of the team was holding forth on the screen. There were no views of the players free-for-all. After a few minutes, I went home. I donned my Phillies cap again and toasted the team with a glass of wine—all alone.
The next morning I called my husband in Philly and found he had slept through the whole thing. Geeeez!
One thing I learned from this tragic experience, after ten years living in New York, I'm still a Philadelphian at heart!
I love the image of the tired waiter -- if the Mets or the Yankees won, I bet the place would have been on fire!
Perhaps there's a mystery involving a die-hard Phillies fan in the works?
Posted by: Anne Cissel | October 30, 2008 at 10:09 PM