Vince Fumo, No Shoes And No Arrests: A Phillies Party

I was late to Sunday’s Phillies game. This wasn’t a mistake on my part, even though I did wake up at around 1 p.m. for a 1:30 game. I like to arrive late to Phillies games, especially when someone like Jamie Moyer is pitching. The best case scenario in the top of the first is a 1-2-3 inning, something the starting pitcher is supposed to be able to do in the top of the first.

The worst case scenario? An over-40 pitcher could give up seven runs.

As I bounded up the Broad Street Subway steps around 1:40, a dude next to me was on the phone. “Seven-nothing? The Mets are down 7-0?” he questioned in more of a yell. I turned to him. “What? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No, Glavine gave up seven runs in the first inning! He didn’t even make it out of the first.”

I called my parents. I had to make sure. I learned the kid wasn’t lying. Top of the first: Marlins 7, Mets 0. I trotted the light-year length walk from the subway to the stadium, and a parking guard stopped me. “Hey, what’s the Mets score?”

“Seven-zip, Marlins. First inning.”

“All right! Let’s go win us a championship!”

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