Dear Baseball,

There’s magic in the air when the Phillies are chasing a pennant. A few more weeks of fall, weather be damned, there’s baseball to play. It’s been a while since the city felt this type of rush. For almost two decades, baseball was non-existent in Philadelphia. The faithful tried to stay into the sport, but it was bad pitching, worse offense, early winters, and Eagles chants in the stands before August.

But not this year.

In a sport where pitching, defensive shifts, and analytics have dulled the game, a rag tag group of home-run-hitting ball players made an entire city fall in love with baseball again.

Outsiders will call it fair-weather fans, but we know that’s baloney. We always support our teams, but when they stink, we don’t waste our time at the game. Who wants to spend hundreds of dollars on tickets, parking, food, and beer just to watch the Phillies get smacked for three hours? We’ve got work in the morning and bills to pay. Our lives are hard enough, we don’t need a live sports experience to ruin our week. Because believe me, there’s not much worse than blowing money on a product that stinks and having to talk about it the next morning exhausted from a late night of bad baseball. Yet, every year, we still listen to the radio, watch TV, and buy shirts and hats praying that the Phils can turn it around. This year will be different. This year will be our year. But as each summer faded into fall, our hopes of a championship parade were dashed.

But not this year.

The Astros seemed overwhelmed with how loud the stadium in South Philly was last night. Hell, the Penn State University Brandywine seismograph registered activity during the Harper and Bohm homers. The city is shaking, ready to burst for another title.

The Phils have a chance to dismantle the baseball purists’ dream, who believe the Houston Astros are one of the most complete baseball teams, maybe ever, and the Phillies are nothing but a fluke. But we in Philadelphia know the truth. The Astros are a bunch of cheaters still riding high on that asterisked championship residue. And the Phillies? Fluke or not, they keep on winning. And we’re going keep on screaming. Just you wait until tonight.

With Brotherly Love,

Those No Good, Angry, Crazy Philadelphia Fans