Winning is a Family Affair

by Bob Herpen
The Phanatic Magazine

After a week of total exhilaration zipping by at lightning speed, I've finally had enough time to process all the information and emotion from the Phillies winning the World Series - I think.

It was a good little break there, I gotta admit. Lots of revelry, revivedfriendships, tons of liquid courage, good tidings, plenty of manly hugs and high-fives and one hell of a 48-hour ride from last Wednesday night throughHalloween.

When the smoke literally and figuratively cleared, I had time to think about what this rarest of occurrences means to those close to me.

The first thought was for my dad, who ended up being away the whole thing. He planned a week-long hunting trip to Idaho 18 months ago, never figuring he'd miss anything. It was a cruel trick Bud Selig and Mother Nature played on him, because even with the weather delay, he was almost able to partake in the revelry.

It wound up that his plane back to Philly flew over the fireworks at Citizens Bank Park a little more than an hour after the final out.

The parallels in our Phillies-rooting lifespans are interesting. In both our conscious memories (not counting any years for which we were alive but unable to recollect), the Phillies made the playoffs four times before winning the World Series.

For my dad, it was frustration from 1976-78 and 1980 was the jackpot year. For me, 1983, 1993 and 2007 passed unheralded before 2008 brought the joy of a lifetime.

In both championship years, the Phillies clinched on the second to last day ofthe season: October 4, 1980 in Montreal and September 27, 2008 in Philadelphia. Both were in danger of being lost until great plays saved the day.

We also got to celebrate a title at age 30 while both technically missing the fun surrounding the clinching contest: In 1980, my father was a first-year medical resident and did not see Game 6 against the Royals; this year, I was pulling a late shift at work watching on TV while I had to cover an NBA and NHL game at the same time.

It wasn't the first time I was able to reflect on the melding of sports and family relations.

When the Phils clinched the National League title back on October 15, the bar where my friends and I gathered got more than a little dusty as I thought ofthe people close to me who passed on recently.

Two in particular came to mind: my great aunt and grandmother.

Leona Eriksen was my father's aunt, on his mother's side. She had a big hand in raising him and was also one of the most angry, bitter and passionate Phillies fans I ever knew. She used to take him to Ladies' Day games and weekend doubleheaders at Shibe Park in his childhood, where he found a hero patrolling the outfield - none other than Richie Ashburn.

Despite the fact she lived on the Space Coast in Florida for the last 25 years of her life, thanks to cable and summer visits every other year to Philly, she rarely missed a chance to do her unique combination of complaining and cheering for the team.

Since my first game in August, 1984, my father passed down that peculiar brand of supporting the local baseball club to me, along with the reverence for Whitey.

Rita Fabrizio passed away on May 6. Nobody nurtured and supported my love of sports and my career choice like her.

She was there, kicking a rubber ball to me in her living room so I could score my first goal into the vestibule. She listened to every one of my hockey broadcasts in my final year at Boston College, and always took delight in all the gossip and drama of each radio station, hockey rink and any other of the dozen places I worked. She also got up before the crack ofdawn for every Sunday morning sports broadcast when I worked in Delaware for 2 1/2 years.

If such things happen beyond our plane of existence, I bet they both bent anear of the higher power in vastly different ways trying to influence a Phils win just this one extra time for us both.

I really don't know if all this philosophizing about the victory can reallyshed new light on or fundamentally alter how we live the Philadelphia experience. It's too early for me to say if any strained relationships were suddenly given new meaning.

I certainly don't see how one local sports team winning can make anyone see anything differently or to provide some sense to life. I think that's really short-changing every other aspect of one's existence unless, of course, sports to that individual is the means through which he or she gains some sort of validation.

Maybe that's a function of being deeply involved in the business for almost a decade. Or maybe that's because despite my own hunger for something to really feel confident about, deep down inside I know it's only sports.

All I know is, it's a long time in coming that I was able to finally share in the sweet relief that comes with rewarded faith in something beyond our control.