Memorable moments from attending my first World Series game last night:
1) St. Pete Mayor Rick Baker getting booed. Well, not Baker exactly. It's just that, while he was making his way through the crowds in the stadium concourse,he got bunched up with a scrum of red-clad Phillies fans — who regularly drew boos every time they were spotted by vocal Rays fans (of which there were a few). So they weren't really booing at the mayor – I don't think.
2) The climb up to the double-letter seats in the 300 section (formerly known as tarp seats). Now I know I really don't want to lose that bet with Brian Howard in Philly.
3) The fact that it's just as much fun to scream and cheer and cowbell like crazy from up in the 'cheap' seats as it would be, say, from the seats directly behind the dugout (although you do get a better view there of Raymond shaking his/her rump).
4) The ultimate Rayhawk: Perfectly dyed and positioned atop one bald guy's head to look like he'd found a raccoon tail and stuck it to his scalp.
5) The sweet predictability of it all: The Rays lived up to Tampa Bay's expectations that Philly would give us trouble all the way to the last inning, and yet the Rays would, as always, triumph. And the Phillies lived up to their fans' expectations that the team would have ample opportunities to seal the deal, and yet would, as always, choke (11 men left on base!). For further insight into the city that never gets the respect it deserves, particularly from its own citizens, read my former Philly City Paper colleague Howard Altman (now with the Trib) on Philly's self-flagellation complex. (Favorite line: 'Philly fans hate everyone and everything, but nothing as much as themselves.")
But never let it be said that Philadelphia phans can't trash-talk; now they're saying Rays crowds are just too darned friendly.
This article appears in Oct 22-28, 2008.