At about 8:59pm last night my husband saw me cry for the very first time. The text exchanges through my brother, father and I were all in disgust. My dad was in Hawaii but Jimmy Rolllins (or Jonathan Broxton) ruined his vacation. Usually these types of things don't happen to fans like us. I'm used to last second heroics - Kobe throwing Shaq an alley-oop that leads to a trip to the finals or a Robert Horry buzzer beater three pointer that results to another western conference championship. My teams are the ones that make it happen. When there are two on, one out, and my team is on defense, usually my team gets out of pickles like that.
We had the bottom of the order for the Phillies. All Broxton had to do was throw strikes. I was sick to my stomach last night and unfortunately woke up literally sick this morning. I just want to pretend nothing happened. I would have preferred just turning the tv off in the 9th inning and hearing about the outcome on sportscenter. I don't know why I sat there and put myself through torture. I threw in the towel in my last entry but last night I thought we had a chance to tie this series up. I don't even think I can watch the game tomorrow. I'm that disappointed, that much in shock and that upset.
The only somewhat good thing about last night was that I had Denver but unfortunately Philly ruined my night of excitement. I was just telling my husband how this was probably the best Monday I have ever experienced - Dodger and Yankee playoff games and Monday night football. How in the world could that have been ruined? Well, we all know the answer to that by now.
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