Last night I sat in section 310 and did not clap for Chase Utley’s first at-bat. Instead, I did that awkward hand slapping your chest thing that you do when your other hand is busy filming the occasion. And while I was live streaming for our Facebook page, I was far from the only one filming. Chase Utley spent 12 years being the platonic (and romantic) ideal of a Phillie. There is love there. That feeling doesn’t just go away because he’s wearing blue. I’m a human. I’ll root for a man over a shirt every time. If your loyalty is to a shirt and not the human inside of it, especially when that human is Chase Utley, your fandom is shallow, your indignation is stupid, and your opinion is as worthless as organic, one-ply toilet paper.
So when Chase blasted a home run to right field in his third at-bat, you had to cheer, because WHAT ELSE DID YOU EXPECT HIM TO DO? It’s in his blood to play his best baseball, as ruthlessly as possible, when all eyes are on him– and that is why we always loved him. So when he does it to us, to our bad team that is harboring post-season delusions like an out-of-shape blogger with two cats for roommates on Tinder who thinks anyone will swipe right, who in their right mind wouldn’t cheer?
These people: Continue Reading