Good morning, kids. So last night I had this dream that it was six to eight weeks from now, the afternoon of Ben Revere's first game back. Folks were already excited, what with the Phils in the midst of a historic Fall surge that had seen them already overtake the Braves for first place, and Roy Halladay's second of back-to-back shutouts the night prior sent everyone over the top. We were doing this thing. And now, the star center fielder was returning. Good times. Then, all of a sudden, Twitter and the internet ASPLODED.
You see, while he was rehabbing, Revere went Salinger on us. Total recluse. Nobody got to see him, and his answers to questions from dorks like Zolecki and Murphy were done via text or phone call.
We're back to game day. Batting practice. A buzz overtakes the field. That's Ben Revere!
He turned into a total juice-head while he was rehabbing. The visual is great enough, but my favorite part (I have to give my dreaming self credit for this) was that in the immediate questioning from reporters Revere denied having undergone any sort of change. He just talked about the foot-- how he brought it along slowly, did some work in the pool, walked before running lightly before sprinting. He was totally nonchalant about the whole thing. Also, he was drinking a protein shake and eating a giant turkey leg while he did the session.
After it was over, in front of the utterly incredulous throng of reporters, Revere proceeded into the BP cage and hit the first five balls thrown to him into the deepest recesses of Ashburn Alley; the last soared majestically into the third deck.
"Feeling good!", he laughed.
That was my Ben Revere dream last night.