"[Phillies fans] are not front-runners; they come out. They come out and support their team. Watching the playoffs against Milwaukee, it was quite a sight. And I told our guys if they thought [the Chicago fans were] bad, they're in for a rude awakening [in Philadelphia] , because it's not even close."
~Larry Bowa, Dodgers' 3rd base coach
~Larry Bowa, Dodgers' 3rd base coach
I cannot wait for the Phillies to come home for the World Series, and I'm slightly embarrassed to say that my love of the game is only part of the reason. The other, possibility bigger, part is to see again what I call that indomitable beast in the stands - the Philadelphia fans.
As I've already said in a previous post, the ardent fervor of Philly sports fans knows no bounds and is not lost on any American who tunes in regularly to ESPN. But our fanhood is not simply a spectacle to be gawked at out of context, despite the pieces of evidence floating around on YouTube. When channeled constructively, it is an impregnable roar that can turn the tide for any away team on the hottest tear and help the home team win key games.
The first time I truly came to appreciate this phenomenon of group behavior was in the NLCS, when the Phillies hosted the Dodgers, who were hot off a surprising 4-game sweep of the team-to-beat in the regular season, the Chicago Cubs. Sitting at home with my eyes glued to my high-def flatscreen, I became aware of the coming together of roughly 45,000 fans in Citizens Bank Park into a singular, cohesive unit. It was a red-and-white-speckled monster come alive - you could actually see and hear the heaving of its breath flush with the moments of the game; the moments of tension during a Phillies pitcher's wind-up, the moments of release with a Dodger error or a home team hit. The crowd's synchronous chanting of "Beat L.A.! Beat L.A.!" was incarnated as a voracious bellow of "EE-OOOH-UH, EE-OOOH-UH" that - even from my couch a dimension removed from the game - intimidated. Imagine the psychological state of a Dodger's pitcher faced with an entire stadium of practically insane people out for his blood. The Phillies won the first 2 games of the NLCS at home.
Am I saying that the fans won those games? Certainly not. The Phillies was the better team and showed it by trouncing the Dodgers soundly in 3 more games on the west coast. But that level of intensity of fan support certainly turned a baseball game into a war in which the Phillies arrived armed to the teeth. I was lucky enough to be a part of that during Game 2 of the NLDS against the Brewers, in which Philadelphia witnessed the reigning NL Cy Young winner C.C. Sabathia completely crumble under the pressure of pitching against the Phillies and, by extension, Phillies fans. So far in the World Series, seeing the games played at Tropicana Field has been a far less satisfying experience. St. Petersburg, FL is not a baseball city, and the baseball fans there simply haven't had the experience to know how to be truly fanatical about their team. While I am certain that the Phillies have what it takes to win the Fall Classic whether they play in a stadium or in a dome, I still eagerly await the return of the team to a fanbase that truly appreciates what they are an audience to, and shows it by being as much a part of the game as the game itself.
As I've already said in a previous post, the ardent fervor of Philly sports fans knows no bounds and is not lost on any American who tunes in regularly to ESPN. But our fanhood is not simply a spectacle to be gawked at out of context, despite the pieces of evidence floating around on YouTube. When channeled constructively, it is an impregnable roar that can turn the tide for any away team on the hottest tear and help the home team win key games.
The first time I truly came to appreciate this phenomenon of group behavior was in the NLCS, when the Phillies hosted the Dodgers, who were hot off a surprising 4-game sweep of the team-to-beat in the regular season, the Chicago Cubs. Sitting at home with my eyes glued to my high-def flatscreen, I became aware of the coming together of roughly 45,000 fans in Citizens Bank Park into a singular, cohesive unit. It was a red-and-white-speckled monster come alive - you could actually see and hear the heaving of its breath flush with the moments of the game; the moments of tension during a Phillies pitcher's wind-up, the moments of release with a Dodger error or a home team hit. The crowd's synchronous chanting of "Beat L.A.! Beat L.A.!" was incarnated as a voracious bellow of "EE-OOOH-UH, EE-OOOH-UH" that - even from my couch a dimension removed from the game - intimidated. Imagine the psychological state of a Dodger's pitcher faced with an entire stadium of practically insane people out for his blood. The Phillies won the first 2 games of the NLCS at home.
Am I saying that the fans won those games? Certainly not. The Phillies was the better team and showed it by trouncing the Dodgers soundly in 3 more games on the west coast. But that level of intensity of fan support certainly turned a baseball game into a war in which the Phillies arrived armed to the teeth. I was lucky enough to be a part of that during Game 2 of the NLDS against the Brewers, in which Philadelphia witnessed the reigning NL Cy Young winner C.C. Sabathia completely crumble under the pressure of pitching against the Phillies and, by extension, Phillies fans. So far in the World Series, seeing the games played at Tropicana Field has been a far less satisfying experience. St. Petersburg, FL is not a baseball city, and the baseball fans there simply haven't had the experience to know how to be truly fanatical about their team. While I am certain that the Phillies have what it takes to win the Fall Classic whether they play in a stadium or in a dome, I still eagerly await the return of the team to a fanbase that truly appreciates what they are an audience to, and shows it by being as much a part of the game as the game itself.
