For the 3rd time in four years, Pujols was the best in the MLB while Lincecum had the best Reina Value. How did all 1,296 major leaguers perform in relation to their contract?
The Angels and Red Sox will score a lot of runs, while the absence of a dominant starter for the White Sox could be the difference.
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When the Phillies defeated the Rays in Game 5 of the World Series they did more than just win a championship.
They became immortals.
The Cubs have their little 100-year drought, but puh-lease. Philadelphia fans didn't weep for Chicagoans when the Bulls won championship after championship in the 1990s, or when the Bears routed the Patriots in 1985.
You see, it wasn't just the pain that fans felt having gone 28 years without a baseball champion. Nor was it solely the pain that fans felt having only experienced one championship in the Phillies' first 125 years of existence.
It was the culmination of 100 seasons that ended in disappointment across the four major sports.
Technically, it's 98 seasons. But strike years in the NHL and MLB where a champion isn't crowned certainly counts as a disappointment in my book.
Losing for 100 seasons is tough, but when there's no other team in town providing a diversion? It's heartbreaking.
There were lots of close calls. We continually looked towards next year, the infamous time that never arrives.
Philadelphia fans of this generation have been scarred, battered, beaten, and at times, disillusioned.
We have come to revere those teams who that come oh-so-close. These teams have been celebrated nearly as much for their personality as they have been for their winning.
We have long celebrated the 1993 Phillies. The group of characters, dubbed "Macho Row", has long had a place in our hearts for the way they played the game, and their worst-to-first turnaround from the previous year provided genuine excitement. That team, ultimately came up two wins short of capturing a championship.
A back injury to Lenny Dykstra, knee troubles for Darren Daulton, and a strike-shortened 1994
season later, and the Phillies were back in their typical role, missing the playoffs every season until 2007.
In 2001, the little-guy-who-could made us believe, if only briefly. The Allen Iverson-led Philadelphia 76ers burst out the gate to a 10-0 start on their way to an NBA Finals appearance. After taking a stunning 1-0 lead against the heavily-favored Lakers in Los Angeles, they lost the next four games in route to another L.A. championship.
For years, Philadelphia fans have been idolizing underdog teams without the requisite talent to win a championship, who have captured our hearts and taken us on great, but unfinished, rides.
This time, our time has come. This time, Philadelphia had legitimate championship-level talent.
This time, Blaine Bishop tackles Joe Jurevicius. Eric Lindros doesn't suffer a concussion. Jim Fregosi doesn't send his closer out with a dead arm to serve up a meatball to Joe Carter. San Antonio doesn't leapfrog the Sixers in the lottery. This time, we get Tim Duncan, not Tim Thomas or Keith Van Horn.
This time, the baseball gods were on our side.
The curse of William Penn has long been blamed for Philadelphia's title drought. It's not that we believe in curses. Logically, we know it has been the mistakes of the front offices, a lack of talent, or sheer bad luck getting in the way of our hopes and dreams.
But, at some point, one can begin to feel cursed. At some point, you have to wonder whether you'll actually ever witness a parade.
Every year, luck, along with a heavy dose of talent, is required to win a championship. Certainly, the Phillies skated through the season largely injury-free, most importantly to their starting rotation. But luck does not make a champion. It's still required that you capitalize on that luck, and that takes talent.
Brett Myers, who produced six base hits in the last three years, drew a two out walk to extend an inning against Milwaukee's CC Sabathia in Game 2 of the NLDS. That is certainly not something you come to expect.
But as great of a break as that was, it doesn't plate a run without Shane Victorino's grand slam two batters later.
Luck, effort, and talent: A winning recipe. A combination no other team has been able to put together in a combined 100 seasons in this city.
This win was certainly tremendous for the players.
For Jamie Moyer, who finally won a championship in his 22nd big league season while playing for the team he grew up rooting for.
For Chris Coste, the 33-year-old rookie who never let his dream die.
For Myers, and his chance at redemption. And Jason Werth, who contemplated leaving the game after recurring wrist injuries.
Certainly, the win was also for the bright homegrown stars that have transformed the Phillies into contenders. Jimmy Rollins and Pat Burrell. Chase Utley, Ryan Howard, and Cole Hamels.
But, most importantly, this win was for the fans. The citizens of Philadelphia who have come so close, only to end up in agonizing defeat.
The fans who live, eat, and sleep Philadelphia sports, only to be shut out from a parade down Broad Street year-after-year.
This win was for the 35-year-old fan who was too young to remember what this feels like. It was also for the 25-year-old fan who wasn't yet born the last time a championship parade was held here.
Entire generations of die-hard fans with no concept of witnessing greatness. Up until this point, fans who had never witnessed the pure ecstasy of winning a championship.
Even if only temporary, on that day everything in the world was picture perfect. Everyone in the city was
your friend. On Friday afternoon, fans gathered along Broad Street with two million of their best friends to celebrate a feeling they had forgotten, and some had never known. During these troubled economic times, these hard-working fans got the diversion they needed from their everyday lives.
They witnessed what it was like to be a champion. And in this city, that has made this group of Phillies immortal.
Derek Bodner can be reached at dbodner22@gmail.com.
