When the Phillies won the World Series (still enjoying typing that...), the pics I saw in my Facebook feed went from being dominated by parties with people I don't know, vacations, and litters of little kids and babies, to an overwhelming amount of people wearing Phils gear, roaming Broad Street, celebrating with family and friends, or cheering at CBP. By far my favorite comes from my boy BMack, who posted this pic of his grandfather:
How great is that?
When I think of my early indoctrination into being a Phillies fan, I
think of both my grandfathers. Both wore Phillies trucker hats (before
any such term was used), watched games on TV, or listened on the radio
out back while drinking beer like Coors and Genny. For some reason, I'll never forget one afternoon game
watching with with my dad's dad while the Phillies beat the Mets. There was nothing noteworthy about the game, except that I watched it with him. I'll never forget the time I asked my other grandfather why he listened to the radio for some innings and not others. (The answer? "I don't care for Wheels," from a man who rarely expressed displeasure in anything.)
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In their lifetimes, my grandfathers saw only one
championship, and it was before I could walk. We never really got to share a
World Series winner, but they still followed the Phillies all summer,
every summer, just to enjoy their hometown team, and I followed what they followed.