The Mourning After

There’s a few moments in my life, that inherently tie me to a city. In NY, there was moments of glamour, and culture, and ridiculousness. Like the time I was introduced to Harry Potter because the line at the Union Square Barnes & Noble was absurdly long and full of people dressed in robes. In my possibly inebriated state I stood there, staring, until a young wizard told me to come join them…in line…at midnight…for a book. A children’s book mind you. Through all the chaos that is NY, this moment defined the city for me. It’s magical, and unexpected.

In Philly, well, there are good moments, but truth of the matter is, the city is defined to me perfectly by the : 2 cars and 8 bikes stolen, 1 random act of being punched in the face by a stranger and knowing police by their first name. [Editor’s Note: assume that is not a good thing]. But that’s Philly. As the bastard child of New York, it has an over aggressive chip on its shoulder. It wants to constantly prove how much better it is than the City of Boroughs. Where it plays out in intensity, is sports. No where in my life have I seen such a disgusting display of immoral frivality. During my time there, the Eagles were amazing, the Flyers were consistently awesome (that’s professional hockey for those not in the know), and the Phillies almost got dy-Nasty. Problem was, the people didn’t deserve it. Flat out. They were so ungrateful for the things they had. It played out like sheer greed, you give the kids cookies and they ask for milk. So when the Phils won the World Series, I was torn. My first thought was, “Fine. Finally these people can get it out of their system.” It was almost title town at the time, Eagles were doing well, heck even the Sixers were slated to win something. Maybe, just maybe this will fix this towns inherent problem with aggression. Nope. Gameday violence actually increased. Locals began to get outright feverish. It wasn’t good enough to win, now they felt like they deserved to just be given a title every year. Again, this isn’t the entire population, and I shouldn’t judge them like this, I know. I have a lot of friends that I was notably happy for, but the majority rules, and quite frankly, I think Philly is proud of their machismo.

Thus, bringing me to Cincy. Every time I tell people I “moved here on purpose” or that I “recently moved to Cincinnati” it is almost immediately followed up by a look of perplexion and a “Why?” and/or “On purpose?” Truth is, Cincy and its people have fully embraced me, not as its own, I think it enjoys having an “outside consultant” just strolling around making comments. But, the City Ashamed to be Proud of Itself, for whatever reason, found its stride. Not that the love of baseball has gone anywhere here. Not by any means. But as a perennial Mets fan, I can tell you, its VERY hard to dislike the Reds. The Reds, while I wasn’t here during the “cash the check years”, embodied everything I experienced growing up playing baseball. Who are the Reds? Egoless. Skilled. Humble. And now, Heartbroken. Again, the perfect definition of Cincy, and now I understand. You all deserved this World Series, so the world at large, or..at least the nation can see Cincy’s possibility.

The Reds broke my heart, after such a wonderful 5 month relationship (longest I’ve had here so far, might as well get that in before Zender makes the comment). As an adopted fan, I am angry with Rollens, second guessing Dusty, wondering when Votto will get his power back, but, something about waking up here, in Cincy, the City the Takes a Beating, I am ok with it, and have fully embraced your catchphrase. So without further ado, lift one to the Reds for a tremendous showing, and…

Just wait till next year.

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