A List Of Things Thrown Five Minutes Ago

ON THE EVE OF WHAT COULD BE THE WORST DAY IN PHILADELPHIA SPORTS HISTORY SINCE JEROME BROWN DIED: Seriously: if the Phillies lose, Mets win and Eagles lose in prime time to the Giants.... well, one day more. Tonight, la resistance prepares. Tonight, we pray. And we hope.

That is the true genius of Phillies fans, a faith -- a faith in simple dreams, an insistence on small miracles; that we can bring our children to the ballgame and know that the Phanatic won't hurt them; that we can yell what we think, blog what we think, without getting kicked out of the park; that we can scream for the Phillies at twelve of the other thirteen National League parks without fear of retribution, and that our all-star votes will be counted -- at least most of the time.

In the end, that’s what this season is about. Do we participate in a Phillies fandom of cynicism or do we participate in a fandom of hope?

Chase Utley calls on us to hope. Ryan Howard calls on us to hope.

I’m not talking about blind optimism here -- the almost willful ignorance that thinks the bullpen problems will go away if we just don’t think about it, or the lack of a fourth starting pitcher will solve itself if we just ignore it. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about something more substantial. It’s the hope of kids in the Italian Market sitting around a fire singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame"; the hope of suburbanites setting out for Citizens Bank Park; the hope of a young Aaron Rowand bravely patrolling the centerfield; the hope of James Rollins' son who dares to defy the odds; the hope of a big kid at first base with the same name as a character on The Office who believes that the playoffs have a place for him, too.

Hope -- Hope in the face of difficulty. Hope in the face of uncertainty. The audacity of hope!

In the end, that is baseball's greatest gift to us, the bedrock of this nation. A belief in things not seen. A belief that there are better days ahead.