| | | I knew something was different when I went for the Water Cooler on Monday morning and drew me a nice, chunky, rusty-colored Dixie Cup of Sparkletts.
|  | | The Philly Phanatic is another year older ... and wiser. |
If I wasn't hallucinating, the gunk in the water took the shape of the Vet in Philadelphia. Gnarly, gnarly stuff.
"You diggin' this water ... Philly style?" a voice sounded out.
I turned to see my old pal, Philly.
That's not his real name, but that's what I'll call him. He's the guy who lives in San Francisco, but flies an Eagles flag in his window -- all year long. He's the guy who went to a Raiders-Eagles game at Oakland in silver face paint and lime green wig -- and lived to tell about it. He's the guy who actually has the Eagles logo tattooed on his shoulder -- and paid for it.
He's the guy we all call a major-league nutjob -- because he's pure Philly.
"Dude, what are you doing here?" I asked. "Eagles minicamp was uneventful this year. What cause have ye to visit the exalted Cooler?"
He tore off his "Freddie Mitchell is God" T-shirt. Underneath, he flashed a Mutombo gamer. He hiked that up. Underneath, a sleeveless T reading simply, "Pat the Bat."
He offered up a slice of -- what else? -- cheesecake.
"This to celebrate the Sixers' loss to Toronto?" I asked, taking a paper plate that featured a likeness of Tug McGraw on it.
"Funny man," he said. "No worries about the Sixers. Best road team in the NBA. That series is as much in the bank as a Wayne Gomes eighth-inning appearance."
"Then why am I eating your nasty Philly cheesecake, and washing it down with your nasty, polluted Philly-style water?"
"Phanatic's birthday," he grunted, stuffing cake in his mouth, spitting crumbs on the autographed photo of Andrew Toney he had hanging in his cubicle.
|  | | After denying the Pacers, Dikembe Mutombo, right, and the Sixers dropped their second-round opener to Toronto. |
The Philly Phanatic's birthday. Holy mother of Dick Vermeil! These Philly guys were really nuts. Their baseball team is in first place, and vibes are so kickin' that any Braves or Mets fan who dares show his face on South Street might wind up in the Delaware River. Their basketball team, while down 0-1 to the Raptors, still has NBA Finals stamped all over it. And they're a city that ... celebrates the birthday of the Philly Phanatic.
"You know," I said, dismissing his offer to attend a Phanatic autograph session at the Mall, "I'd respect your town and your fandom a lot more ... if I didn't think you were all criminally insane."
"Sez you," he said, tapping the "play" button on an office CD player. He cued up Zevon's "Werewolves of London," and leaned into the part where Zevon brays.
"Awwwwoooooo," he sang, and suddenly I knew what was up. My boy Philly was leaving The Cooler, and he was heading back home. Back to Philly. Back to the
Vet. Back to where he could join his brethren -- The Wolfpack -- when Randy Wolf hurls. Back where an Iverson jumper means something. Back where an Andy
Reid trip to Dunkin' Donuts is more than just a caloric experience.
"It's time for you to go," I said. "And for that, my Philly Phanatic pal, I dedicate this Weekend's List of Five to you and your ilk."
1. Shaq Daddy
|  | | The Shaq Diesel steamrolled the Kings with 44 points, 21 boards and seven blocks. |
At what point does this country embrace Shaquille O'Neal for the epic presence he is? What will it take? Was his comic cameo in "Blue Chips" not enough? (His line, "Come on, coach, we all know those tests are culturally biased" has taken on a "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn" kind of hugeness over the years. Hasn't it?)
Have his rap albums not been enough? Have his perpetually funny quotes not been sufficient to warm your heart? OK. Fine. Then take these digits, Stat Freak: 44, 21, 7. If Wilt or Jordan or Russell or Oscar puts those up in an NBA playoff game, we'd be talking about the guy in soft-focus documentaries for decades.
For Shaq? Hell. He'll do it again in Game 2. Respect the hugeness.
2. That NHL cat who got suspended
All right. I'll admit. I'm pure California. Hockey, to me, began and ended with the Charlestown Chiefs and Reggie Dunlop. I know nothing, other than to not get a Hanson Brother "any of that stinkin' root beer!" But I was in a bar on Saturday -- yeah, you lost your bet -- and SportsCenter was on, sound down. I saw some Maple Leaf giving a press conference in a suit, and his body language is Part Nixon-Checkers Speech/Part Final Scene of Ol' Yeller.
|  | | Tie Domi got a little teary-eyed after he was suspended for the rest of the NHL playoffs. |
What could cause such emotion? Turns out the guy, Tie Domi, is out for the playoffs. Turns out he elbowed a guy named Niedermayer. I'm not making this up.
They showed the footage, and my reaction is simple: They suspended that guy for that? What, are you kidding? In hockey, I thought stuff like that was
considered the equivalent of a double-cheek Euro air-kiss. I'm so confused.
3. Andy Roddick: Learn him, love him
There's an 18-year-old tennis player taking the world by storm. Wait. What's that? You don't give a rat's ass? You say there are only three tennis tournaments all year? You don't even count the Aussie Open? So, Andy Roddick is not on your radar right now. Fair enough. I'll move on.
4. The Knicks: A mercy kill
How can a city as exciting, as stylish, as fab as New York be burdened with an NBA team as unsightly, as plodding, as un-fab as the Knicks? Shouldn't the Knicks always be about players nicknamed "Clyde"? Shouldn't a crowd that features Baldwins get a kick-ass, fast-breaking, handsome style of ball? Exactly.
That's why the Knicks' first-round playoff exit was such a godsend. I can't watch the basketball equivalent of a 1978 Pravda broadcast from Moscow on a floor like
the Garden, where Springsteen once spun his magic. To think, Glen Rice trods that same hardwood. Good riddance, Knickerbockers.
5. Petey is a gift
We all know there is no human way the Boston Red Sox make the World Series this year. That's just ... you know, a given. That said, we should all take a moment and appreciate nights like Sunday, when a lineup card features Pedro Martinez on the hill and Manny Ramirez at the plate. They are, simply, the two best in the world at what they do, and they are on the same team.
What other combinations can you remember like that? When the Unit threw and Griffey and A-Rod hit? When Seaver threw and Morgan and Rose hit? When ...
"How 'bout when Carlton threw and Schmidt hit?" a voice shouted from the parking lot.
Snapped from my List of Five reverie, I looked out the window from under the fluorescents. Near the employee exit, Philly had a fist raised to the sky. A
true believer.
Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes the "Monday Morning Water Cooler" every week for Page 2. Send this story to a friend | Most sent stories
|
|
|
