PHILADELPHIA — The best part is realizing that you believe. Flash back through the eras and that’s what you’ll find. It’s more fun when you aren’t entirely sure, when every pivotal moment unfolds against a backdrop of incredulity, that self-preserving buzz in the back of your mind that reminds you what can happen when you step to the edge and dive. The beginning is when the memories cut deepest, back when you could feel them starting to form.
By the top of the ninth inning on Saturday afternoon, an entire stadium had long since surrendered. They had watched a former gas can of a reliever record five of the biggest outs of his career. They had watched a Game 2 goat continue his transformation into a postseason hero. They had sung the “Star-Spangled Banner,” and “God Bless America,” and Robyn’s “Dancing on My Own.” They did not need to see Seranthony Domínguez strike out Travis D’Arnaud to know that the Phillies were headed to their first National League Championship Series since 2010. They already believed.
Some quick half-digested thoughts before we head downstairs and watch the celebration unfold:
