Dr. No

October 6, Game 1, NLDS:  PHILLIES 4, Cincinnati 0

When you look at the record books, there aren't very many places where the Phillies hold some special record that everyone who's a baseball fan knows by heart.  It's not Steve Carlton with seven no-hitters.  It wasn't Mike Schmidt with 755 homeruns.  Pete Rose had his 44-game hitting streak the year before he became a Phillie.

But tonight, the Phillies finally were able to have one of their own etched into the pantheon of great postseason games with Roy Halladay's no-hitter.  Doc joins Don Larsen as the only pitchers in the history of the game to pitch a no-hitter in the post-season.  And for a change, Phillies fans get to proudly puff their chests as they celebrate, literally, a game for the ages.

There really are no words to express how many fans, including myself, feel on this momentous occasion.  That we are joyous, proud, ecstatic, pumped, psyched, or whatever adjective you wish to use should come as no surprise to even the most casual of fans.  That this means so much, to so many, is simply beyond the comprehension of "outsiders".

We're like everyone else.  We want our teams to win.  We're not just satisfied to make the playoffs; we want the teams to go all the way.  In that respect, we're not much different than fans in Boston, LA, Chicago, or even our fellow fans in Cincinnati.

But in many ways, it's vey different for us.  So many years of watching others continue playing baseball while our guys were hitting the golf course.  So many decades of futility, amassing over 10,000 losses, the most in the history of the game.  After awhile, the losing becomes so customary that the winning seasons, the big wins, and the championships -- few and far between --- take on mythical status and a meaning beyond the joy of rooting for a winner.

If you watched the movie, "Invincible", the story about Vince Papale (and what self-respecting Philadelphia sports fan hasn't?), there is a scene in the movie where Vince's dad, who has mentioned Steve Van Buren's touchdown in the 1948 NFL Championship Game more than a few times already, has a heart-to-heart talk with his son on the steps of his rowhome.

He tells Vince that he knows how he talks about that touchdown all the time because, after his wife had died, the joy of that memory helped him get through the pain.  That the joy of that memory had helped him get through the tough times at work, or in general.  And if you grew up in Philadelphia, or the Philadelphia area, you understood what he meant.  For his generation, it was Van Buren's TD.  For my generation, it was Rick MacLeish, tipping home Andre Dupont's slapper from the point, or Willie Wilson, striking out to end Game Six.

And tonight, a new generation of Philadelphia sports fans have been granted the privilege of being witness to another memory that will be with us, and bring a smile to our faces, and joy to our hearts, for the rest of our lives.  Tonight, we didn't just witness the brilliance of Roy Halladay, we witnessed a moment for the ages; a game that will be mentioned for as long as there are playoff games to be played.

Thanks, Doc.  Bet you never thought being in the postseason would be this good, did you?