Drinking the Kool Aid

Before the baseball season began, your Dalembert Report editors sat down over some Kiwi-Strawberry Special Brews to discuss the Phillies chances for the upcoming campaign. One and all concluded that Phightins would win somewhere between 86 and 89 games and finish one game out of the wild card, just like they do every year, and as such we shouldn't get out hopes up and in fact we should probably just ignore the fact that Philadelphia even has a baseball team and focus instead on Team Dalembert's (Canada) campaign to beat Puerto Rico in the FIBA America's championship.

Even as the season wore on and we were bored stiff by lack of interesting Sammy D news and our inability to get in touch with Britt Reid's pharmacist, we swore there would we no Phillies until they reached 10 games over .500.


4 days ago I changed my mind. Game 1 against the Mets led me to believe I should at least watch, and maybe, in a limited way, hope. The improbable win in game 2 had me mixing up a sugary pitcher Jim Jones-sponsored yumminess. Last night clinched it.

I'm drinking that goddamned fucking Phillies Kool-Aid again.

We all know what's gonna happen in the end: 88-74, losing to Washington on the last day of the season to blow a chance at the wild card. But fuck it. I'm drinking anyway. And when the Kool-Aid runs out, well, then we can all start smoking meth instead.