On The Road To The Series

The 1993 baseball season in Philadelphia was magic. As a long suffering fan of the Phillies, that season produced one of the most surprising and memorable runs seen in my lifetime. Except for the years leading up to the victory in the 1980 World Series, the Phillies had been heartbreakers to all their diehard fans. Most years, going to the stadium was like going to the dentist, but in 1993 the baseball gods decided to bestow a gift upon us.

After blitzing to the division lead and beating the hated Atlanta Braves for the National League Pennant, our Phightin' Phils were in the Series. My sons, who were nine and ten at the time, were just beginning to really become fans. They were lucky, I had to wait until I was 25 before I saw my team in the Series for the first time.

A phone call from my brother, Joe, set the wheels in motion for a road trip that will be talked about at holiday gatherings for years to come. He got his hands on tickets to the first game of the Series in Torontonot just a couple of tickets, but twenty tickets. This was two days before the game; time was short. I asked my sons, Nello and Matt, and of course they were in. My brother was taking his six-year-old son, Nick and we asked my friend, Murph. He was going to take his daughter. The cast was set. Our phone line sang as reservations were made at one hotel along the way and a hotel in Toronto. Joe rented a van and we were ready to leave after work the next day. The plan was to drive eight hours that first night and pull into Toronto on game day at around 10:00 AM.

Joe pulled up to our house. Saying goodbye to Liz (wife and mom), my sons and I piled into the van and off we went to pick up Murph. Murph and his daughter, Sierra, were ready when we rolled up, but one look at all the boys and men in the van shook Sierra up and she went running back to her mom. I guess, even at a young age, girls can be intimidated by too much testosterone in one place. A quick stop at the local convenience store to stock up for the ride and we were on our way.

It is funny what happens on a trip with six males in a confined space for eight hours. The anticipation of the journey was not conducive to sleep. We pigged out on hoagies, chips, Slim Jims, donuts, candy, soda and coffee. As the miles rolled by in the darkness, strange sounds began to emanate from all over the vehicle. There is nothing funnier for a group of guys, no matter their

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