As a rule I am generally opposed to wearing caps to work if for it you have to dress up. Since my office is formal (penguin in a tux, duhhh), I never wear one. This morning--of course--was an exception.
So I'm sitting there on the commuter train that takes me into the city listening to music and sending some gibberish email to my buddy when the conductor stops after checking my ticket and sternly motions for me to take off my headphones. (Note: All of the following is made a billionty times more awesome by the fact that he looks almost exactly like the Gimbels store manager from Elf)
I take the headphones off; he gestures towards my hat.
"How are they going to do tonight?"
"Oh dude they're gonna win."
A humongous smile breaks across his face.
"Hahahaha... Doc Halladay!"
I nod, and crack a proud smile. We break into a conversation about where in Philly we're from and when another donkey overhears it he awkwardly blurts out, "I'm from the Northeast... Go Phils!" But we're okay with that.
As the conductor moves on back to work he turns his head over his shoulder and boasts, "Oh we got the 215 up in here!"
My anxiety dipped some after that interlude, largely because it reminded me of how much more these games allow us than we may realize on the surface (face it, we're spoiled of late): the chance for one Philadelphia "expat" to connect with another on his way to work, the small parties or bar gatherings with friends, imagining how we'll explain these series to our kids when they're old enough to understand, silly superstitions, phone calls that may not have otherwise happened... whatever. From the sappy to the stupid, it's all still ours.
Even letting your guard down and wearing a cap with your dork clothes. It's small, but it means something and is part of something bigger much more significant. Enjoy it-- all of it.
|AP Photo of Roy doing what Roy do, at 3:41 a.m.|