The Birth of a Baseball Diehard

How the 1993 Phillies (and Joe Carter) turned me into a hardcore baseball fan.

The sport of baseball first appeared my radar at the age of 10 when the Philadelphia Phillies won their first ever World Series title. The now iconic image of relief pitcher Tug McGraw jumping for joy on the mound after getting the final out is one of the earliest sports memories that I have.

I wasn't an athletic kid so the Phillies winning the World Series didn't translate into me signing up for little league or anything like that. A single disastrous season of playing youth soccer was all it took for both my parents and I to realize playing sports was not a skill set that I possessed and never would no matter how much I practiced.

However, that image of McGraw on the mound stayed with me. So much so that as I got older I started to become a casual baseball fan. I would keep track of the wins and losses, who was playing, who was traded and so forth. Unfortunately, the Phillies were going through a rough period and other than an appearance in the 1983 World Series which they lost four games to one, there wasn't a lot to cheer about on a regular basis.

That all changed in 1993.

The 1993 baseball season was the one where I went from a casual baseball fan to a “hardcore Phillies fan for life” type of fan. There was just something about that group of rough and ready players, Darren Daulton, Lenny Dykstra, John Kruk and the rest that I just connected with. They made baseball fun to watch in a way it had never been before and took my interest in the game to the next level.

I went to my first baseball game that season at Veterans Stadium, the cavernous multi-use concrete ring that had a reputation almost as bad as Philadelphia did in those days. I got my first autograph from an actual baseball player that summer from a completely indifferent Curt Schilling. But most important, I realized just how awesome being a Phillies fan and a member of this family can be.

Watching games with friends became a weekly ritual. I began to talk baseball with people at work, discussing line-ups, pitching strategies and whether closer Mitch Williams would disappoint the entire city or be a hero.

What made that 1993 season so much fun was that, pardon the pun, it came completely out of left field. The team had finished the 1992 season an underwhelming 70-92, coming in dead last in the National League East and missing the playoffs yet again. The 1993 squad came out of nowhere, took hold of the lead in the division on Opening Day and never let go. They finished 97-65 and rode that momentum through the playoffs all the way to the World Series to face the Toronto Blue Jays.

Which brings us to Joe Carter.

It was Game 6 and my friends and I were at Houlihan's Bar and Grill, happily watching the game, cheering on our boys while drinking beer and eating french fries. It was the bottom of the ninth and the Phillies were clinging to a 6-5 lead with two men on base.

Mitch Williams was on the mound and all of Philadelphia was collectively holding their breath. “Wild Thing” as he was called was one of those closers who would pitch a perfect 1-2-3 ninth one night and then give up a pair of homers the next. He was infuriatingly inconsistent with his control which made watching him pitch an adventure for everyone involved.

But Philly wasn't worried. Carter was 0-4 in his career against the Wild Thing. With everything on the line, surely he would come through, get the out and send this thing to a Game 7.

Unfortunately, that's not what happened.

One three-run walk-off homer later, the Blue Jays were celebrating back-to-back championships and the Phillies were left to wonder what the hell just happened. Houlihan's was deathly quiet for a few moments like all the air had been sucked out of the place, all the fans just as shocked as I was.

To his credit, Williams took the blame for the loss and owned it. He answered any and all questions after the game from the media and dealt with the inevitable backlash from Phillies fans. As you might imagine they were not kind, proving again why the Philly sports faithful have such a unique reputation among major sports cities.

We were simply heartbroken. And what made it even worse was that the following season, the team returned to the mediocrity that had been their calling card, missing the postseason with a record of 54-61. They would spend much of the rest of the 1990s playing below average baseball, a trend that would continue until the signing of Jim Thome and the opening of Citizen's Bank Park would herald the beginning of a new era of Phillies baseball.

But that World Series, that 1993 Phillies team, changed something in me despite how it ended. My days of being a casual fan were over. I started watching games religiously and going to games whenever I could. I watched as the members of that 1993 squad were traded away or left the game to be replaced by the seeds that would grow into the juggernaut that dominated baseball in the early 2000s and won the World Series in 2008.

I then watched as the ashes of that roster from the 2000s were scattered and the Phillies began almost a decade of futility, not making a playoff appearance from 2011 until 2022, when they once again made an unlikely playoff run and found themselves in the World Series once again.

That is one of the big things I've learned about baseball and in particular Philadelphia Phillies baseball. Everything happens in cycles. That special 1993 roster gave way to the squad that went to back-to-back World Series and that team eventually was replaced by Bryce Harper, J.T. Realmuto, Zack Wheeler and Bryson Stott. Basically if you are patient enough and have a little faith, you will be rewarded sooner or later.

Do I wish the waits between playoff runs and being able to celebrate Red October were shorter? Sure. But then again, they wouldn't be nearly as special if they were. And win or lose, I'll always be a Phillies fan, looking forward to a new season every spring.

But even though it's been 31 years, I still can't find it in my heart to forgive Joe Carter.