A long-awaited night for Philly, a bright future for the Rays

ON BASEBALL

I know it lasted just five games, but what a great World Series this was.

Forget the poor TV ratings; forget the miserable Philadelphia weather; forget the 46-hour wait between the top and bottom of Game 5's sixth inning.

It was all worth it.

The Phillies and Rays put together a thrilling three innings of baseball in the frigid cold Wednesday night, with the Phillies emerging victorious 4-3. The end-game scenario couldn't have been more fitting:

There was Brad Lidge, Philly's perfect closer. Which is to say he doesn't blow saves, not one the entire season. But he does allow baserunners, which was the case as Fernando Perez, Tampa Bay's speedster, took a lead off second base. Eric Hinske, who was 1-for-1 in the Series with a home run entering the game, stood at the plate.

Then Lidge, appropriately, threw his nasty slider on an 0-2 count ... and Hinske had no chance. He swung at thin air. He missed badly. And the celebration was on. Ryan Howard, Philly's burly first baseman, nearly cracked a few of Lidge's ribs with a linebacker's tackle.

But he didn't. Not on this night. Not on the night that marked the first championship for the City of Brotherly Love since the Moses Malone-led 76ers improbably swept the Lakers in 1983. That was a half year before I was born, so now I'll get to hear about and read about, for the first time, all the arrests that are made as a result of Philly fans going absolutely chaotic all night.

They deserve to celebrate, that's for sure (well, legally at least). As any champion will tell you, each title should be savored, should be soaked up until it's bone-dry, because you never know if you'll be back. Even for teams with a grand-looking future, nothing is certain. For instance, after the Tigers' 2006 march to the World Series, I never thought, with the players they had returning, they'd be left out of the postseason the next two seasons.

Something tells me, however, that these Rays will be back in the postseason, that we'll be hearing from Tropicana Field's annoying cowbells in the years to come. The future of the franchise couldn't be brighter.

Their young everyday players, guys such as Evan Longoria and B.J. Upton, aren't going anywhere. That's also the case for members of their strong starting rotation. And it will only get better with the inevitable addition of 23-year-old David Price, who showed his great maturity by pitching brilliantly in the late innings of these playoffs.

And who doesn't love red wine-drinking, thick glass-wearing manager Joe Maddon. He's a great manager for his inexperienced team, and I'm 95 percent sure he'll lead them back to October baseball.

So while there was disappointment for the Rays Wednesday night — who wouldn't be upset after winning 105 games during a long season only to come three wins short? — there was also perspective. Carlos Pena, who has emerged their spiritual leader, talked positively. So did Maddon.

The lost Series will sting for a while, but well before February, the Rays will be focused and excited about the 2009 season. The Red Sox and Yankees will have a tough time overtaking them in the brutal American League East.

But back to the Phillies, because this was their night, their city's night.

The thing about this team was that it impersonated its city. As in, it didn't make anything easy. It never took the easy path to victory.

Consider how many runners the Phillies left on base in the World Series (48), consider how they fared with runners in scoring position (6-for-47 entering Game 5). They probably could have scored 10 runs in all four of their victories, instead of 3, 5, 10 and 4 runs. The Phillies let the games stay close, let the Rays fight back several times.

But then they threw the last punch. On Wednesday, it was Pedro Feliz's game-winning RBI single in seventh inning that brought home Pat Burrell, who had just knocked his first hit of the Series — a leadoff double.

When the Phillies really needed hits in the playoffs, when they were trailing or in a tie game, they stepped up and got the job done in a blue-collar manner their city appreciates. In the NLCS, the bigs hits were Shane Victorino's and Matt Stairs' two-run home runs in the top of the eight inning of Game 4. The blasts turned a two-run deficit into a two-run lead.

They devastated the Dodgers, put Philly up 3-1 in the series and paved the way for a trip to the Fall Classic that was realized two nights later.

Then came the big World Series hits. In Game 1, it was Chase Utley's first-inning, two-run jack that gave starting pitcher Coley Hamels an instant cushion en route to the one-run victory. In the wild, whacky Game 3, it was the eighth man in their order, catcher Carlos Ruiz, who fought off a tough inside pitch to dribble a roller up the third-base line. It was perfect for the bases-loaded situation in the ninth inning, scoring Eric Bruntlett for the game-winning run.

There was no drama in Game 4, as Howard joined the World Series party with a pair of HRs and five RBIs. The eight-run victory was a brief respite from drama for Philly fans, who, rightfully so, could never feel completely comfortable that the Series was in the bag. After all, it was the Phillies.

Which brings us back to Lidge, the closer, the man who put the finishing touch on 48 Philadelphia wins this season. The last time a Phillies closer was on the mound, it was Mitch Williams in 1993. And quite possibly, it was the most heartbreaking moment in the team's 125-year, morbid history. In Game 6 of Series against the Blue Jays, Williams gave up a walkoff three-run home run to Joe Carter. Toronto — a damn expansion franchise! — celebrated its second consecutive world championship.

But when Lidge threw his final nasty slider of the 2008 season, finishing off Hinske in a mere three pitches, 1993 was a distant memory. Even before the climatic moment, Williams had been forgiven. He's now a popular sports-talk radio host in the city. And Thursday, I'm sure, he'll get to spend his entire show talking about his former team. How right is that? He can't wash away the pain of '93, but how happy must he be?

The most joyous man, though, has to be Philadelphia manager Charlie Manuel. Before Game 2 of the NLCS, Manuel learned that his loving mother, June Manuel, had passed away. He didn't have to manage that day, but that wasn't an option. Instead, he led the Phillies to a victory ... and then six more. And he knows June is celebrating wherever she may be.

Manuel is far from the most eloquent man. In fact, he's the polar opposite of Maddon, who speaks in such great detail, sometimes I mistake him for a professor. Manuel is more of a Philly guy, speaking succinctly and in generalities. And he doesn't hide his emotions. His words never come out smoothly, but you know they're from the heart.

On Wednesday night, after four seasons of criticism, after hearing people clamor for him to lose his job despite winning at least 85 games each season, he was the happiest 64-year-old on earth.

Good for Charlie.

And good for the rest of the Phillies. Their star ace, their MVP, was Hamels. Their de facto slugger was Howard. But their ride to the championship was full of performances from the other guys, from the players non-Philadelphia baseball fans may not be aware of.

The happiest 45-year-old has to be Jamie Moyer, who somehow found the strength to pitch six and one-third innings of three-run ball Saturday night in Game 3. He didn't get the victory that rain-soaked night, but his team did in a game pundits like myself thought it'd lose because of the starting-pitching matchup. He proved us all wrong.

It was an amazing performance from not only a man of his age, but also a man who had been brutally sick the night before the game. His wife said that Friday night, Moyer was a mess. He was his usual collected self Saturday.

The play that should stand out from Wednesday's clincher was made by Utley, Philly's do-everything second baseman. With the game tied 3-3 in the seventh inning, the Rays' Jason Bartlett stood at second base with two out. Akinori Iwamura grounded the ball back up the middle.

Bartlett, assuming it would get roll into center field or Utley would throw to first, jogged around the bases, not even looking back toward second as he rounded third base. After backhanding the ball behind second, Utley, knowing he couldn't get the speedy Iwamura, faked toward first then fired a one-bouncer to Ruiz. The catcher easily tagged out Bartlett to end the inning.

It was the kind of play World Series champions make, a defining moment. Rarely do you see a champion not make a similar heady play. A half-inning later, the Phillies were ahead for good.

And, it should be mentioned, J.C. Romero was the winning pitcher.

It wasn't the cleanest march to the championship. The Phillies needed some help from the Rays, who made their share of baserunning gaffes (like Bartlett's) and mistakes in the field during the Fall Classic. Philadelphia wasn't at its best all the time, either. There were at-bats when Howard, even Utley, looked lost, waving at three straight pitches.

I almost expected to hear boos after such at-bats. After all, that's what Philly fans are known for. But they're also known, maybe not as well, for being knowledgeable, for knowing everything possible about their team.

And Wednesday night, they knew — they could be sure of — that the best team in baseball, the guys in white and red rejoicing on the cold, windy field, were World Series champions.

The 28-year wait since the Phillies' 1980 title, the first in franchise history, was worth it. As was the 25-year major-sports championship drought. And the aggravating 46-hour wait to complete three stinkin' innings.

One word could sum up what transpired just before 10 p.m.

Finally. Or, I guess, "Phinally."

Phillies' big hitters wake up; Rays' hybernate

ON BASEBALL

Welcome to the party, Ryan Howard.

Still invited to the party, but yet to make an appearance: Carlos Pena and Evan Longoria. It's almost over, fellas, appetizers are long gone, last call for drinks, doors are closing.

And that, folks, is a big reason why this is where we sit:

Phillies 3, Rays 1.

The city of Philadelphia is ready to explode as its citizens — and outsiders with connections to the city, such as myself — sense the first major-sport championship in 25-plus years. If any city deserves a title, it's Philly (although, yes, Cleveland sports fans certainly have a case).

Not that this thing is over. Any knowledgeable Philadelphia fan would tell you this. They know the heartbreak that can occur in their city. There won't be any healthy rioting until the last out is in the books.

But unless two Rays bats wake up, it's only a matter of time.

Stat of the series: Pena and Longoria, two of Tampa Bay's most potent bats, are 0-for-29. That, in a word, is ghastly. With their No. 3 and 4 hitters somewhere in Panama, the Rays are lucky this thing isn't over yet. They're lucky those riots aren't occurring right now.

Meanwhile, Philly's big bat has finally come alive. Howard, who is fascinating because of how bad he can look one at-bat before smoking a long ball the next time up, has done a lot of the latter in Philly's two home wins. The regular-season home run champion hit his first round-tripper of the postseason in Game 3, and Sunday night he connected on a pair.

Howard's three-run shot, off a breaking ball — usually his weakness — and to the opposite field, was the Shot Heard Round Philly, extending the Phils' tenuous 2-1 advantage to 5-1. From there, the final innings were academic.

The Phillies hit another pair of long balls, including Howard's second. The Rays, meanwhile, continued to get nothing from the middle of their order and squandered quality scoring opportunities in the sixth and seventh innings.

By the eighth, you knew it was over. Trailing 6-2, there should have been a sliver of hope for the Rays. After all, Pena, Longoria and Carl Crawford — the "meat" of the order — were due up. But in this Fall Classic, the meat has been rawer than raw. And Pena and Longoria further proved this, meekly striking out before Crawford grounded to second.

For comparison's sake, Philadelphia's No. 3 hitter, Chase Utley, hit the key two-run homer in Philly's 3-2 Game 1 win and also homered in the most dramatic game of the Series, the Phillies' nutty 5-4 win Saturday night/Sunday morning.

Howard is a prime candidate to be named the MVP if the Phillies can close it out. Besides the three home runs and the five-RBI performance Sunday, he's hitting .353. His manager Charlie Manual wasn't kidding when he said that Howard, and his wide shoulders, could carry the team to a championship.

Of course, he's getting plenty of help. You know things aren't going the Rays' way when Joe Blanton — large, pudgy pitcher Joe Blanton! — hits a no-doubt shot over the left-field wall. It was the Game 4 starter's first career home run, and at the most opportune time.

But Blanton didn't need the run. Or Howard's five RBIs, for that matter. Just like Jamie Moyer a night earlier, Blanton was the better starting pitcher. Most pundits, including yours truly, thought the back of Tampa's starting rotation would be stronger than the Phillies'.

Shows what we know.

We also thought Pena and Longoria would continue to hit like they had all season and into the playoffs.

Um, wrong on that one too.

What has happened is this: Despite continuing to struggle mightily with runners in scoring position, the Phillies have scored enough runs for the commanding 3-1 series lead. Credit Utley, Howard and company — Blanton included — for stroking a few momentum-snagging long balls into the dark sky.

And the City of Brotherly Love is on the brink of a large, unabashed love fest.

Unless the Rays' big bats wake up.

ASAP.

Lidge the Phillies' comforting blanket

ON FOOTBALL

If Phillies fans are still extremely nervous about their team's fortunes in this World Series — even after a solid Game 1 win, 3-2, in St. Petersburg, among the cowbells, Wednesday night — I completely understand.

After all, in the franchise's dismal 125-year history, it's won a single championship in 1980. (Yep, that's right: Even the lowly Cubs, with their back-to-back titles in 1907 and '08, have twice as many.)

So "optimism" is not a word thrown out in the streets of Philly, especially when not a single of the city's four major-sports teams has won a championship since the 76ers in 1983. There will be no celebrating, no champaign toasts, no burning of couches/cars/cheese steaks until the last out is recorded, until the Phillies have won four games against the Rays.

That's just knowing your team.

But if there is a comfort blanket on this Philadelphia team, someone whom Philly fans can place at least a tad of trust in, it's Brad Lidge.

Forget Mariano Rivera (and his Hall-of-Fame career and dominance in the playoffs). Forget Francisco Rodriguez (and his single-season saves record). At this moment in time, Lidge is the best closer in baseball.

What makes a closer good — besides, of course, not blowing a save all season? When you're watching a dominant ninth-inning pitcher, you just know that he will get the job done. Your heart might tell you there's a chance he will slip, he will lose the slim one-run lead thanks to one bad pitch, but your mind — your most trusted source of smarts — tells you there's no chance. It's over.

That's what I think when Lidge takes the mound.

So when the Rays brought up the middle of their lineup — Carlos Pena, Evan Longoria and Carl Crawford — to face Lidge in the bottom of the ninth, I was positive he would finish the job. I didn't necessarily think he'd be as dominant as he was, striking out Pena and Longoria on nasty sliders before getting a foul popout to close it, but I knew he'd finish the Phillies' victory.

Only the best closers give me that feeling. This season, anyway, Lidge is one of those guys.

He has all the key ingredients of a top-notch closer:

1. He gets ahead in counts and has a good fastball that he's not afraid to throw down Main Street for that first strike.

2. He has the nasty "out pitch," his slider, which fools hitters even when they're expecting it.

3. He has a great presence on the mound, never getting flustered when a baserunner or two may reach.

4. Finally, he has proved over the past couple weeks that he's just as good in October as he is during the regular season. All closers must prove this before they can gain elite status.

Lidge's steadiness has to be especially cathartic for Phillies fans who witnessed the Mitch Williams Debacle in the 1993 Fall Classic. That memorable series was capped off with Williams giving up a ninth-inning, three-run homer to Toronto's Joe Carter, which won the Blue Jays a second consecutive championship in six games.

It was Williams' second blown save of the series. In an incredible Game 4, Toronto came back from a 14-9 deficit with six runs in the eighth inning, three off Williams, to win 15-14. Williams got the loss and death threats from angry fans.

The 1993 experience had to have scarred many Philly fans for life, and there may be some who will never trust another Phillies closer. But Lidge is one man who can be trusted, if "trust" is indeed still a word in the City of Brotherly Love.

Unlike the long-haired, often erratic Williams, Lidge is calm, cool and collected when on the mound. Sure, he shows emotion after a big strikout or a critical double play, but that's natural and it doesn't affect his approach toward the next hitter.

Now, I have to stand by my predicition that Tampa Bay will win the Series in six games, but let me add this: If the Rays want to win their first World Series, they better figure out a way to get leads before the eight inning. Yep, even before Lidge takes the stroll in from the bullpen, because he's got a nasty setup man in Ryan Madson, who set down three consecutive Rays Wednesday.

Madson and Lidge give Philly a nasty eight-nine punch at the end of games. A comforting combo, if you will, for those never-been-kissed Phillies followers.

This Fall Classic could be dramatic, could be heart-throbbing. But this much I'm convinced of, Philadelphia:

There will be no repeat of the end of the '93 Series. Your closer won't be on the mound, watching as an opposing hitter rounds the bases celebrating a walkoff dinger.

Letting a name and tradition fool you

ON BASEBALL

It's an easy trap to fall into, so I won't laugh at a friend for the text messages he sent me after Boston's wins over Tampa Bay in Game 5 of the ALCS Thursday night and Game 6 Saturday night.

After Boston's improbable 8-7 comeback for the ages Thursday: "Well that sucks that might break the Rays."

During Boston's hotly contested 4-2 win Saturday, when I texted him that I smelled a Game 7: "It will happen and tampa will probably lose which sucks."

My friend wasn't the only one. Without doing a lick of research, I can guarantee you that even with Boston down 3-2 and needing two wins in St. Petersburg, a good portion of this country smelled two Boston wins. I'll bet my house — OK, I don't own a house; but you get the point — that prior to Game 7 Sunday, the majority of America thought Boston had another World Series berth in the bag.

The reasons for these thoughts? It's very simple, actually: name recognition and tradition. In other words, Boston had won two World Series in four seasons; Tampa hadn't sniffed the postseason ... ever. Fenway Park is one of the most recognized sports venues in the country and hundreds of books have been written about the Red Sox; the Rays haven't even been the "Rays" for a year and have only been a franchise for 11 seasons.

To make a bad analogy, you walk into a store to buy a six-pack. On one rack is Samuel Adams (no Boston connection intended). You know what you'd be getting. You've sipped hundreds of SAs over the years. On the other rack is an ale you've only seen at a party yet. You took one from a friend, but you aren't convinced you want to buy it yourself.

You take the Sam Adams simply because of its name and your history of drinking it.

It's a poor call. Just like giving up on the Rays to win the ALCS after their Game 6 loss.

The series went seven games, but the Rays dominated the first six games. There was no arguing that they weren't the better team. Just examine Games 3 through 6, because the first two games — Boston 2-0, Tampa 9-8 in 11 innings — cancel each other out as very tight ballgames.

Tampa dominated Games 3 and 4, both at Fenway, by scores of 9-1 and 13-4. Their hitters owned Boston pitching, sending seven balls out of the park and slamming 27 hits. The big bats in Boston's lineup, primarily David Ortiz and Dustin Pedroia, were as silent as Red Sox Nation during the blowouts.

We all know what happened in Game 5. The Rays dominated the game for six innings before two big Bostons swings, by Ortiz and , got the Red Sox back into the game after being down 7-0. A couple clutch hits later, Boston had an 8-7 victory.

Game 6 was a close contest throughout, with the most unlikely of home runs by Boston catcher Jason Veritek — his first and only hit of the series — and a Tampa Bay error allowing Boston to turn a 2-2 game into a 4-2 victory. It was a solid victory, closed out by Boston's bullpen, but in no way was it backbreaking. In no way was it a "Don't even bother showing up at the ballpark tomorrow" kind of win.

So the Rays showed up Sunday, loose and confident like they should have been. Of course they couldn't forget what had transpired the previous three days, but hey, they were still a game away from the Fall Classic. That's the attitude the precocious team took, and it worked wonders.

There was never a sense of panic, a whiff of desperation. When asked after Tampa's 3-1 Game 7 victory to "honestly" say whether there was doubt in the clubhouse, winning pitcher Matt Garza said there wasn't. I believe him.

You see, it's one thing when you get lucky in a game or two and squeak out a couple other games to get to a Game 7. In that scenario, it's hard for a team to be completely sure of itself. Living on the edge will do that to you. But entering Game 7, the Rays — have I said this already? — were the better team; they were the superior team during 162 regular-season games, and they were for the first six games of the series.

Still, the money was on Boston because it's, well, "Boston." I can't say I blame people. I'm no betting man, but with my minimal income, it would have been tough to bet on the Rays Sunday.

It happens in all sports all the time. The newcomer to the grand stage is written off — again, and again and again. Never mind that they've proven themselves countless times. Until they win that first championship, people doubt they have the chutzpah to pull it off.

Just look at the Pistons' easy series win over the Lakers in the 2004 NBA Finals. People kept doubting the unfamiliar group of Detroit players, even as they dominated the familiar Lakers. Picking Kobe and Shaq, and their three previous championships, was easier (and, of course, just plain dumb, especially after wins by Detroit in Games 1, 3 and 4).

It occurs in college sports as well. I was inside Michigan Stadium last year when Appalachian State knocked off the mighty Wolverines. Even as the Wildcats led Michigan for most of the game, there was a sense among the Big House faithful that it couldn't possibly happen. That a tiny school from Boone, N.C., couldn't knock off fabled Michigan.

We all know what transpired.

And now the Rays are in the World Series, and anyone who continues to doubt them — regardless of how they fare in the World Series — is a complete nut job.

In fact, barring major offseason developments, anyone who doesn't predict the Rays to repeat as American League East champs next season will be disillusioned as well. With a super young team full of improving starting pitchers and everyday guys who play great defense, run the bases well and have power ... well, this team is here to stay for the long haul.

Oh, and did I mention that the man on the mound for Boston's final four outs Sunday was a kid, 23, who had pitched in a whopping five regular-season games?

Yep, that's right. David Price isn't going anywhere. And neither are most of his teammates.

You can doubt them if you want. Go ahead and pick the older Yankees or Red Sox to win the division next year.

Just know that you'll likely be basing your prediction more on the past than what's actually the case today.

And you probably won't be the only one.

A magical night at Fenway, but Rays remain in control

ON BASEBALL

Terry Francona said it best in his postgame news conference:

"That was pretty magical."

Indeed, it was. What transpired in Boston Thursday night was almost surreal, like one of those dreams that you never want to wake up from. As the Red Sox continued to bite into Tampa Bay's seemingly insurmountable 7-0 lead, I almost expected to wake up to reality.

But there was nothing fake about it. And if Boston can somehow turn it into two wins in St. Petersburg followed by four victories over the Phillies, Oct. 16, 2008, will go down in Red Sox lore along with those incredible nights in mid-October 2004.

I, for one, don't see that happening. Despite the devastation the Rays must be feeling right now, despite the absolute collapse by their usually stout bullpen, how can they not still feel good about themselves?

It might not feel this way, but the Rays are actually up 3-2 in the best-of-seven series. And they're going home to their cowbell-banging fans in Florida. You can add to that the fact that their No. 1 pitcher, James Shields, will start Game 6 Saturday night.

I liked the Rays before Thursday's game to win the series, and I still think they'll close out the defending champions. I give them a 75 percent chance.

But back to the magic. Late Thursday night was why I watch sports, why I never turn off a game prematurely, why most goosebumps I've experienced in 24-plus years are a direct result of moments like David Ortiz's three-run, seventh inning home run to slice the Rays' lead to 7-4...

And J.D. Drew's two-run shot in the eighth to narrow the gap to 7-6...

At that point, it didn't matter that I wanted the Rays to win the series. For a few spine-tingling innings, I joined Red Sox Nation. And when Coco Crisp fought off so many 3-2 pitches that my phone died as I talked with Dad — in the middle of the crucial at bat — I knew the magic wasn't gone.

A few seconds later, Crisp drilled the baseball into right field, tying the game 7-7. I got goosebumps for the third time of the night and called Dad back. It was a moment, a game, a comeback to share with others.

At that point, I almost felt as if the comeback was complete. The Red Sox might have felt the same way, considering there was a minor ninth-inning letdown. Two Rays runners reached base, and suddenly the thought occurred to me that everything accomplished the two previous innings could instantly be for naught. A Carlos Pena base hit could give the lead right back to the Rays.

But it simply wasn't meant to be. This was the Red Sox's night — like so many have been the past three years. When Pena hit a groundball directly to second baseman Dustin Pedroia, setting up an easy inning-ending double play, the outcome became clear to me.

What followed was almost anticlimactic. Tampa Bay threw the home team a bone when third baseman Evan Longoria threw away Kevin Youkilis' two-out grounder up the line. Two batter later, Drew sent the Fenway fans — those who remained in the stadium, at least — home delirious with a final base hit, one last RBI.

The magic show was over. And what a show it was.

Consider just how badly the Rays had dominated Boston for two straight games plus six innings Thursday (all at Fenway): They'd outscored the Red Sox 29-5; they'd fooled Boston's big hitters — Ortiz, Pedroia included — into looking meager; they'd pounded pitch after over or against the Green Monster.

There was no reason — none at all — to expect anything out of Boston after the seventh-inning stretch. Even when Pedroia plated a run with a single to make the score 7-1, the only notable was that Boston wouldn't be shut out in a home playoff game, continuing some streak that I can't even remember.

Heck, Tampa hadn't given up more than a three-run lead all season.

But when "Big Papi" jacked the homer into the right-field stands, the impossible suddenly became quite plausible. Just like that, with one swing of the bat.

Isn't it amazing how 7 seconds, or so, can alter the course of history?

Considering the magnitude of the game, at this moment I'll call it the greatest comeback I've ever watched. This opinion will change, of course, if the Rays close out Boston Saturday or Sunday. If that's the case, this story loses much of its luster.

But at least for two days, what the Red Sox did Thursday night in one of two great ballparks left in the country — and we all know the stigma the other park carries — should be embraced as nothing short of remarkable, as one of the great feats in American sports history.

And in an ironic twist of fate for Red Sox Nation: Drew's game-winning hit occurred within a minute of the five-year anniversary of Aaron Boone's walkoff homer that sent the Yankees to their last World Series and Boston fans weeping and cursing the Bambino.

Since that moment, all the magic's been on the Red Sox's side.

Did the Phillies win too soon?

ON BASEBALL

I know this sounds preposterous, but the Philadelphia Phillies might have been better off losing Game 5 Wednesday night.

Provided, of course, that they return to the city of Brotherly Love and win Game 6 or 7 of the NLCS.

I know this sounds equally ludicrous, but the Tampa Bay Rays might be better off if they lose Game 5 Thursday night in Fenway Park.

Provided, of course, that they close the deal on their first World Series invitation in Game 6 or 7 back at Tropicana Field.

Before you call me a nut job or sports gambling addict, let me explain myself. This was, after all, the final Debate Night in America. Please, my friends, don't cross the aisle just yet.

I'm not suggesting, at all, that the Phillies shouldn't have given maximum effort in Wednesday's clinching game. And I'm not suggesting that the Rays shouldn't do the same against the defending champions Thursday night. Ask any Philly right now about how they feel, and they'll give you the typical, "Words can't explain..."

But numbers can explain that winning the NLCS or ALCS too soon can result in an odious Fall Classic experience. Just ask the Detroit Tigers of 2006. Just ask the Colorado Rockies of '07.

Two years ago on Oct. 14, the city of Detroit was in a frenzy. I wasn't there. In fact, I was 9,093 miles away in Sydney, Australia. But people back home relayed the craziness to me. The Tigers had just swept the Oakland A's in the ALCS. They were playing their best baseball of their remarkable turnaround season.

Meanwhile, St. Louis was slugging its way through a burn-for-burn series with the Mets. It wasn't decided until New York's Carlos Beltran got caught staring at a nasty curveball for a called strike three in Game 7. The date was Oct. 19.

On Oct. 21, the Fall Classic finally got underway. And you couldn't find a baseball fan — or expert — outside of St. Louis who thought the Cardinals would win the Series. Of course, we all know what transpired after that.

Cardinals 4, Tigers 1, with the lone win coming in controversial fashion as Kenny Rogers had some foreign substance on his left pitching hand. Five errors by Tigers' pitching. An absolute no-show by their suddenly impotent lineup.

All it took was a week away from the competitive diamond for the Tigers to lose their magic. Some say their pitchers should have practiced throwing the ball to first and third during the time off. I think they should have scrimmaged some fall-league teams.

Then came 2007. And another magical story. This time it was the Colorado Rockies, winning 14 of their final 15 regular-season games — including a one-game, 13-inning playoff drama against San Diego — and then breezing through an NLDS sweep of the Phillies and a four-game undressing of Arizona.

Before the people of Denver realized there was a professional team in their city besides the Broncos, the Rockies were in the World Series. A shocking euphoria followed. But, alas, the winner of 21 of 22 games ran into its toughest opponent yet.

A long break from baseball.

It was even worse than the Tigers' respite a year earlier. The Rockies clinched the N.L. pennant on Oct. 15. The World Series wasn't scheduled to begin until Oct. 24! Matt Holliday could have visited all seven continents, solved global warming and started a campaign for president in that time.

Meanwhile, the Boston Red Sox were in the midst of gaining as much momentum as possible leading right up to the beginning of the Fall Classic. As they battled back from a 3-1 ALCS deficit to the Indians, Coco Crisp had to cancel his three-day mini vacation in Cabo. There'd be no time for fooling around.

Heck, the Red Sox barely took off their uniforms after winning Game 7 the night of Oct. 21. The Series commenced on the 24th.

After three dominating victories over the Indians, the red-hot Sox — whom nobody questioned was the better team — put a stake in Colorado's 10-game winning streak in the opener and proceeded to roll to an easy four-game sweep.

Since then, Denver sports fans have once again forgotten about the baseball team that inhabits their football-crazed city.

I hate to play the what-if game, but once every couple months or two is OK. Not to take anything away from the '06 Cardinals — whom have been called, by the way, the worst World Series champion in baseball history — or the '07 Red Sox, but I'd be curious to see how those series would have turned out if the Tigers and Rockies, respectively, hadn't faced such long breaks between series.

Which brings me back to this season. Right now the Phillies are riding high, playing great baseball, brimming with confidence. But will they be this sharp in a week? Will Cole Hamels hit his targets like he did in two dominating NLCS performances? These, I believe, are legitimate questions.

Part of me wants, for the sake of fairness, the Rays to close out the Red Sox Thursday night. At least that way both Fall Classic participants would face almost equally long breaks. They'd both have to deal with the issue of how to spend five or six days away from the diamond. How to stay sharp? How to stay focused?

But if Tampa Bay is lucky enough to face a short Boston Renaissance before closing out the Red Sox in Game 6 or 7 Saturday or Sunday, I'll give a clear edge to the Rays over the Phillies. Not only are they a great team, overflowing with confident young pitchers and a lineup every bit as explosive as the Phillies', they'd still have the taste of bubbly in their mouths when they take the field Wednesday night.

Don't underestimate that factor.

Of course, I haven't even mentioned the other possibility, but I think we all have a pretty good idea of what would transpire in the World Series if the Red Sox somehow pull off another ALCS comeback from a 3-1 series deficit.

Yep, three titles for Boston in five years.

I don't see that happening, however. Tampa Bay is playing way too well right now. The Rays aren't simply beating the Red Sox, they're embarrassing them — and in front of the Fenway Faithful.

But don't think that another dominating Game 5 performance would necessarily carry over to a still-distant Fall Classic. And definitely don't assume that the Phillies' brilliance in the NLCS will carry over.

Just ask the last two World Series runners-up.