This will be seen, nationally, as more a Mets’ collapse than a Phillies’ triumph. That’s natural. Is 1964 remembered more for the Phillies losing or the Cardinals winning?
OK, but a couple of points:
1. If the Phillies’ had been reasonably healthy - not injury-free, just around the big-league average - they were clearly at least a 95-win team. That’s being conservative.
True, the Mets might have been the second most-injured team in the NL. Had both teams been reasonably healthy, it might have been a race for the ages.
2. In general, there is no such thing as day-to-day momentum in baseball. But there are exceptions in extraordinary situations, and kids, this was absolutely one of those.
The Phillies swept a four-gamer from the Mets in Philly Aug. 27-30. Those games were crazy, wild, and the Phils undeniably got some breaks (remember Aaron Rowand’s dribbler that shied away from the third-base line?).
The series ended with the insane 11-10 game, after which Mets’ catcher (and dork) Paul Lo Duca said, “They’re dancing now, let’s see who’s dancing at the end.”
So then the Mets won nine of 10 to push their lead to seven games again before a three-game set with the Phils in Shea Sept. 14-16.
At that point the Phils were thinking wild card, and the Mets were no doubt thinking something like, “As a last order of business before the playoffs, let’s sweep these wannabes aside.”
If you’re interested enough to be reading this, you know what happened. The Phils pounced, the Mets threw up all over themselves, and the dynamic changed for good.
Yeah, the Phils were seven out on Sept. 12. They were also 7-0 against the Mets in the last five weeks.
Down the stretch, the Mets lost their mental edge, their confidence, their belief in each other. And - this is the crucial point - those things were cut out of them by the Phillies.
That’s not having something handed to you. That’s taking it.
In other Phils’ related news:
We all love Harry Kalas, but one chorus of “High hopes,” is more than enough.
Is any pitcher, for any of the eight remaining teams, better suited to be this year’s Chris Carpenter than the well-rested Cole Hamels?
Generally, a four-man rotation is very workable in the post-season. If Charlie plays it smart, we shouldn’t have Adam Eaton to kick around any more. Neither should the opposition.
You will hear and read a lot of predictions and analysis of every series and every round of the playoffs over the next month. Almost all of it will be crappola.
Think about it. No major-league team won 100 games this year. No major league team lost 100 games this year. Every team in the sport won more than one of out every three and less than two out of every three of their games.
As a matter of statistical probability, if the Tampa Bay Devil Rays played the Red Sox in a best-of-seven three times, there’s a real chance (40-50 percent, I’m guessing) the D-Rays would win at least one of the three series.
And winning the World Series means winning three such series against good teams. The worst of the eight teams in the playoffs last year won it. Every team in this year’s playoffs is better than the 2006 St. Louis Cardinals.
This is a crapshoot, people.
So what have we learned from all this?
Some of us, I hope, have learned a couple things:
To judge a team based on its organizational past is idiotic. To judge a team based on the sporting history of its hometown is, if anything, even dumber.
This is sports. The most important attribute of which is I don’t know what’s going to happen, and neither do you.
That’s why we watch.
And if you run into Paul Lo Duca, ask him if he’d like to dance.
