So here we are; the St. Louis Cardinals are squaring off against the Philadelphia Phillies in a five-game series to determine who will advance to the NLCS. The timing might be odd, but I’ve decided to reveal a dirty little secret…
I like the Philadelphia Phillies.
Ever since they saved the grounds crew in Colorado I’ve been a closet Phillies fan. I think Jimmy Rollins is hilarious and has a promising future as a sports broadcaster after he retires. Chase Utley seems like a stand-up guy and I appreciate his attitude about animals’ rights. Ryan Howard is a St. Louisian (not sure if that’s a word), so I love that.
Heck, I have a Shane Victorino hula doll on my desk.
Even the “Survivor” fanatic in me is down with the Phillies as two of the team’s starting pitchers are married to former Survivors and one of the front office ladies is dating a former Survivor. Good times all around.
However, for as much as I appreciate the Phils, I love Cardinals baseball. As in, when the Cardinals lose, it ruins my day. Ask my alliance partner. Last week we enjoyed a beautiful afternoon full of Butter Beer, Pumpkin Juice, and other Hogwarts fun at Universal Studios. However, when we returned to our hotel and I learned the Cardinals had dropped a game, it dampened my entire evening.
Now here’s my issue; for those of you who don’t know, I grew up in St. Louis (hence the Cardinal fanaticism) but I live outside of Philadelphia. So, 90% of the people I know are Phillies fans. (Note: 70% of those are bandwagon Phillies fans, but we won’t get into that now.) The problem there isn’t that they’re Phillies fans, it’s that most of them only know one Cardinals fan.
As you would imagine, when the NLDS was set last night, my phone lit up like a friggin Christmas tree.
Now here is my plea to you; if the Cardinals give up 30 runs in the first inning Saturday, if dead hookers are found in Albert Pujols’s trunk outside of Citizens Bank Park, if footage leaks of Mark McGwire injecting steroids into Matt Holliday, if Tony LaRussa is caught drunk driving while strangling a cat…
…I don’t want to hear about it from you.
Because rest assured, if something bad happens to the Phillies, I won’t have time to get to all of you.
So, let’s just call a Friend Hiatus until the series is over, or the Victorino doll gets it.