Phillies

Robot Story of the Week: Don’t Tell Phillies Fans to Relax

By Kevin Kinkead

Published: Aug 1st, 2024 · 9:31 AM EDT

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The pitiful Phillies have lost 6 of 7 and are now 3-9 since the All-Star Break. They just gave up 25 runs in a three-game home sweep at the hands of the Yankees.

Is it time to panic? Or do we need to relax? That’s the question we ask of every team, every season. Or, if it’s the Eagles, we ask it after every single loss, and sometimes wins.

Will sports team X figure it out? Is it just a slump?

For this exercise, we asked ChatGPT to write us a story about a Phillies fan who is sick of people telling him to calm down. A.I. delivered a Pulitzer Prize winner:

“Tony Marino was a Phillies fan through and through. For him, baseball wasn’t just a sport; it was a way of life. He had grown up in South Philly, where the Phillies were more than a team—they were a family tradition. Tony’s father had taken him to his first game at Veterans Stadium when he was five, and since then, Tony had rarely missed a game, either in person or on TV.

This season, the Phillies had been on fire, holding first place in the division with a comfortable lead. But something had changed since the All-Star break. The team had gone 3-9, and the latest indignity was getting swept by the Yankees in a three-game series. Even though the Phillies were still in first place, Tony was livid. He couldn’t understand how they had fallen apart so quickly.

It was a sweltering Saturday afternoon, and Tony was at his favorite sports bar, The Dugout, watching the Phillies play the Mets. The bar was packed with fans, but Tony’s mood was as dark as a storm cloud. The Phillies were down by three runs in the seventh inning, and the team looked lifeless on the field.

“Come on, guys! What are you doing?” Tony yelled at the TV, slamming his fist on the bar.

A few heads turned, but most of the regulars were used to Tony’s passionate outbursts. However, today his frustration was palpable. Tony’s friend, Mike, who had known him since high school, tried to calm him down.

“Relax, Tony. They’re still in first place. It’s just a rough patch.”

Tony spun around, his face red with anger. “First place? You think that matters if they’re playing like this? They’re throwing away the season!”

Mike held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I know, man, but you’ve got to keep the faith. They’ll turn it around.”

Tony wasn’t having it. He got up from his stool and started pacing. “Keep the faith? I’ve been keeping the faith since the ’93 World Series! I don’t need to be told to calm down. I need this team to wake up!”

The bartender, a kind-hearted woman named Lisa, tried to intervene. “Tony, why don’t you sit down and have a drink on the house? It’s just one game.”

“Just one game?” Tony’s voice rose an octave. “This isn’t just one game! This is our season slipping away!”

Another patron, a casual fan who didn’t recognize Tony, chimed in from the other end of the bar. “Hey, buddy, it’s just baseball. Don’t take it so seriously.”

That was the last straw. Tony marched over to the man, his eyes blazing. “Just baseball? Just baseball? This team is my life! You don’t know what it’s like to care this much!”

Lisa quickly stepped between them, her hands up to prevent any further escalation. “Alright, everyone, let’s cool it. We’re all Phillies fans here. Let’s just watch the game.”

Tony returned to his seat, fuming but not wanting to cause more of a scene. He stared at the TV, willing the Phillies to pull off a miracle. As the game dragged on, his anger began to mix with a deep sense of despair.

The ninth inning came, and the Phillies made a valiant effort, scoring two runs. But it wasn’t enough. They lost by one run, and Tony felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

As the bar started to empty, Mike put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Maybe some fresh air will do you good.”

Outside, the city was alive with the sounds of summer. Tony took a deep breath, trying to shake off the heavy cloud of disappointment. Mike walked beside him, silent for a moment before speaking.

“I know it’s tough, Tony. But you’ve got to remember, it’s a long season. There’s still time for them to turn it around.”

Tony sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I know, Mike. It’s just… it’s hard. I care so much, and it kills me to see them struggle like this.”

Mike nodded. “That’s what makes you a great fan, Tony. You care. But sometimes, you’ve got to let go a little. Enjoy the ride, even when it’s bumpy.”

Tony managed a weak smile. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I just want to see them win so bad.”

As they walked through the streets of Philadelphia, Tony felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe the Phillies would turn things around. Maybe they wouldn’t. But either way, he would be there, cheering them on, through the highs and the lows, because that’s what being a true fan was all about.”

Tony Marino? From South Philly? I did not put that into the instructions. Artificial Intelligence came up with that on its own. The robots know exactly what we’re all about.