Whither the little girl horses?
I’ve been invited to try brevity for a change in this space; and it seemed like a novel idea. So here’s a brief aperture on the past. Last fall, I was campaigning for Barack Obama in the northern suburbs of Philadelphia. I was deep inside enemy territory, and I knew it. I was in a red state — Phillies red. Worse yet, the Phillies were in the World Series — a New Yorker’s nightmare. I’ve been a Mets fan (“ardent” would be a polite understatement) for about 45 years, which is two ballparks ago. Yet despite the threatening environs, I was so enthralled with the prospect of change that I let myself go. Approaching a house with a Phillies sign in the yard, I found myself saying to the occupants: “Go Phillies!” It may have cost me, but it helped Obama carry Pennsylvania. Now, however, I must get right with the baseball gods. So for the record, I said “Go Phillies,” and not “Let’s Go Phillies,” which would have had far graver implications, since I’ve been saying “Let’s Go Mets” all my life.
And just as crucially, I didn’t specify where the Phillies should go.
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But we know right where the Mets went, don’t we?
I honestly think I took nearly as much enjoyment watching the Mets collapse the last two seasons as I did watching the Phillies win it all for the first time since I was a kid.
OK, maybe that is an overstatement. But it was fun!
I would too if I were a Philadelphian. That’s just how it is. But maybe this year…