The Ghosts of Philly

I saw the ghosts of Philly pass me by tonight. And I don’t mean Ben Franklin and Billy Penn. I’m talking about the more recent kind. The ghost of Bednarik. The ghosts of Schimdt and Lefty. Of Mo and the good Doctor. Of Clark and Parent…”Only the Lord saves more…” and tonight He did. Tonight He saved a city of 1.5 million starving sports fanatics and countless others across this tiny planet.

I was 9 years, 304 days old on the night of May 31, 1983. I remember the brooms they brought back from the Forum…mostly. Go back 2 years, 223 days to the night of October 21, 1980 and all I can remember is not being able to stay up late and watch the game. I remember listening as hard as I could for some faint sound…and then my parents screamed. And I knew. And I slept.

I’ve seen the footage of the parades. Hell, I was at the first Flyers parade in ’74 at the tender age of 8 months and have the home movies to prove it. I won’t be at this parade. Life and location prohibit it. But something is different now. Today feels different. Now I can rest. The ghosts of Philly can rest. And I can sleep like I haven’t slept in 25 years. But then again, can anyone really sleep like they did when they were 9?

Congratulations Phillies! Rest, Philadelphia…