Somewhere in Los Angeles this morning, a 62 year old man is sitting at the breakfast table with his wife reading the sports section and muttering over and over again, "crushing defeat". I know. I've been there.
Being the East Coast equivalent of our blubbering fan in La La Land, I was already asleep when the Phils mounted their miracle comeback. I awoke to headlines that said, "Phils Stun Dodgers". Well, they stunned me, too!
Is this to be the proverbial game on which the season turned? Could be. One thing is certain, the Phils were dead in the water going into the bottom of the eighth inning. Joe Blanton produced his usual awful outing. Opportunities were wasted. Middle relief poured can after can of flammable liquid on the burning fire. By the middle of the eighth inning the Phils trailed 9-2 and most sensible people in the stadium, of all ages, were heading for the exits.
Before this series began I worried about Kendrick and Blanton, with good reason it turned out. The Phils are not yet at the point of Spahn and Sain and pray for rain, but they are at the stage where only three of their starters can be counted on. I guess we should be grateful.
The last but not only hero of the evening was Carlos Ruiz who delivered the game-winning hit. Could not happen to a nicer guy. Everyone in the Delaware Valley has been falling all over himself praising Chooch, and every few nights he shows us just why we love the guy. Accounts of his touching second base as the winning run scored and then heading straight for the outfield, not the dugout, as he saw a thundering herd of some sort of two-legged, red pinstriped species coming his way, made me laugh out loud. If anything, Chooch ain't that fast and the herd ran him down in short order.
What a night!