The good-looking catcher, the fat first baseman, the spitting center fielder, the 102-year-old setup guy, and the hairy left fielder. Philadelphians looked at us and said, “Hey, that’s us. That’s our Sunday beer-league team out there.” And by the end of the season, we were. - John Kruk

This past weekend the Philadelphia Phillies celebrated the 25th anniversary of their 1993 National League Pennant winning team. Where have the years gone? Man, I was still young back then! There are moments from that season I can still see perfectly clear in my head, it was one of the best summers of my life. Seeing all those guys come back to Philadelphia brought back a tidal wave of memories from that season.

As the 1993 baseball season was about to begin, I was in my freshman spring semester at Lehigh University (screw you Lafayette!), about 50 miles outside of Philadelphia. After a hard year of partying studying, I was ready for some baseball. Luckily my roommate was also a Phillies fan so we didn't have to argue about what to watch in our little closet-sized dorm room.

I love my Phillies, but I am also a realist. The Phils were coming off of a last place finish in 1992, but the team suffered through a lot of injuries that season so I hoped they would be more competitive in 1993. I figured they would be around the .500 mark, maybe a little over. Most publications picked them to finish last again. I was never happier to be so wrong.

The Phils started the year on the road in Houston. Houston had made some big moves in the offseason by picking up pitchers Doug Drabek and Greg Swindell. They were supposed to be a contender, the Phils weren't. I was hoping the Phils wouldn't get swept, winning one out of three seemed like the best possible expectation.

But dammit, this squad had other ideas. They swept the Astros in three straight. Baseball has a long 162 game season, three games means very little. Yet I swear you could just tell there was something different about this team already. They made a statement to the National League they weren't going to be pushovers again this year. Three games in and there was already a buzz going around about the Phils.

Of course then the Phils came home and lost the home opener against the Cubs. No matter how good or bad the team is, losing the home opener is almost guaranteed. However after that they won six straight and finished April with a 17-5 record. Excitement was building as everyone realized these guys weren't getting lucky, this team was legitimate.

So many things just went right that year. Milt Thompson's grand slam robbing catch that saved the day in San Diego, the twenty inning game against the dodgers, the crazy rain delayed doubleheader that didn't end until nearly dawn.

Early on in the season, the game I'll never forget was against the St. Louis Cardinals on Mother's Day. Finals were still going on and it was really damn hot. Our tiny little dorm room was a sweatbox. The Phillies game was an excellent excuse to take a study break, a few friends came in to watch. It looked bad for the Phils, they were losing 5-2 going into the bottom of the eighth. They quickly made two outs, but rebounded to load the bases. The Cards brought in closer Lee Smith (who should be a Hall-of-Famer by now, wake up Cooperstown!) to finish the game. The Phils had light hitting second baseman Mariano Duncan coming to the plate. Uh oh. It was looking bad.

We forgot, it was 1993. Everything went right for the Phillies. Duncan crushed a fastball as the legendary Harry Kalas made the call: "It might be, it could be... it is! Outta here! Grandslam! Glandslam! Mariano Duncan!"

You would have thought the Phils had just won the World Series with the way we started hollering and jumping around giving out high fives. People came by just to see what all the commotion was. They did it again! Duncan only hit 87 homers in his 12 year career, but that one made him a Philadelphia legend. If you meet a Phillies fan, Mariano Duncan is synonymous with Mother's Day for us.

The Phillies couldn't keep up their incredibly hot start all season, but they kept winning all summer. The beautiful thing about this squad is they weren't loaded with superstar ballplayers. They were a team of scrappy, hard-nosed, throwback underdogs who simply played good baseball. That went over very well in a blue-collar city like Philadelphia. Remember Rocky?

What a cast of characters that made up this team. They had the "Dude" Lenny Dykstra scoring runs like mad and turning centerfield at the Vet into a tobacco juice swamp. Darren "Dutch" Daulton at catcher who always came up big in the clutch and wasn't afraid to provide an attitude adjustment to anyone who forgot the team's main goal was winning. "Wild Thing" Mitch Williams was the closer and he constantly walked the fine line between victory and disaster. Curt Schilling, Tommy "Jethroe" Greene, Pete "Inky" Incaviglia, Dave "Mikey" Hollins, the list goes on and on.

My favorite Phillie was John Kruk. Why? He was the fat first baseman who drank beer, entertained his teammates and fans with his sarcastic self-deprecating wit and hit like hell. Back in my high school playing days I was the fat first baseman who drank beer, entertained my teammates with my sarcastic self-deprecating wit and hit like shit. Probably why he was playing and I was watching.

As August rolled around the Phils were still leading the pack and I returned to college. Instead of sharing a closet, I now had a semi-decent apartment with three Phillies fans as roommates. It was a great time watching the Phils every night edge closer and closer to a division title, drinking beer and raising hell. Well it was for us, my neighbors thought a little differently. I'll get back to that later.

Phillies fever had swept the campus. Even people who didn't particularly care for baseball were getting caught in it. This team of underdogs had that effect on people. In a couple of my classes we'd spend the first ten minutes or so going over the previous night's game. The Montreal Expos were making a serious comeback. Could the Phils hold them off?

Our prayers were answered on September 28th when the Phillies clinched the division title in Pittsburgh with five games left in the season. We celebrated hard that night. The Phillies did too. Nearly all the starters were benched the next night due to the mysterious outbreak of the dreaded "Budweiser Flu." Those bastards, I still made it to class the next day! Poor Mickey Morandini still had to play second despite suffering from the "flu". He told the guys they better not laugh at him if he threw up on the field. His first time up he hit a ball in the gap and promptly fell flat on his face rounding first base. Good times.

The City of Brotherly Love was flying so high they put a Phillies cap on top of William Penn.

Despite the elation of the Phils making the playoffs, there were storm clouds on the horizon. The Atlanta Braves won the west and would face the Phillies in the National League Championship Series. Uh oh. That team was loaded with superstars, including a trio of Hall-of-Fame starting pitchers in Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine and John Smoltz. They had won the two previous National League Pennants and that was before they had the best pitcher in baseball in Greg Maddux. I had serious doubts the Phils could pull off the upset.

Game one took place in Philadelphia, and the Vet was rocking. One edge the Phils had over Atlanta was the fans. Philadelphia has the most passionate baseball fans in America. Atlanta, well, let's just say they didn't always manage to sell out playoff games at home. What does that tell you?

The game was a back and forth affair, but the Phils entered the ninth inning with a 3-2 lead. Holy crap! We knew they were going to wrap it up. Winning the first game would be big, it would put Atlanta on the defensive. I was so excited watching this game I stood up for most of it. I couldn't sit, I could drink though. Then the Phillies had one of those moments that remind you they are the losingist team in MLB history. Kim Batiste, who came into the game for his defense, botched an easy double play throw and the Braves tied the game. It was like a punch in the gut.

My friends and I were deflated. Here they were, ready to make a game one statement and they threw it away with an error. It was like the ghost of 1964 was rearing it's ugly head again. For those that are unaware, 1964 was the single worse year in the entire history of the planet Earth. It's still too painful to talk about, and I wasn't even born yet. Anyway, the game went to extra innings and the Phils managed to score in the tenth to win! And wouldn't you know it, Kim Batiste, the guy who was on the team for his glove and made the error to blow the lead, knocked in the winning run. It was that kind of year.

We were flying high. Maybe Philly could do it! Then the Braves crushed the Phils in games two and three. We were demoralized. It seemed the dream season was coming to an end. We're Philly fans, we expect the worst and usually get it. Even team owner Bill Giles lost hope, after game three he talked to manager Jim Fregosi and told him he was proud of this team no matter the outcome. Not exactly a vote of confidence.

But this was 1993 dammit, this team refused to go. Danny Jackson pitched the game of his career and the Phils won game four 2-1 to even up the series. We started believing again. Game 5 was going to be the key to the series, the loser would have to win two straight games to finish off the series. Whoever won this game was destined to go to the World Series.

This was another game I pretty much stood through. I was too nervous to sit. I'm telling you I can still feel the emotions of these games like they happened yesterday. In game five Curt Schilling pitched his ass off and the Phils scratched out a few runs to lead 3-0 going into the ninth. We were going insane. We knew, absolutely knew, there was no way they would drop the last two games in Philadelphia. Although it wouldn't be official, this was the game that was going to put them in the Series. Then the ninth inning came. 1964 all over again. Atlanta scored three runs to send the game into extra innings.

I could have puked. I couldn't believe they choked away another ninth inning lead. We went from celebrating to mourning so fast. This was going to be it, the end of the dream season. I was pissed they were going to go out this way. I had such little faith at that point.

Then, for once, the baseball gods smiled down upon the Phillies. Specifically Lenny Dykstra, the "Dude".

That clip is worth watching to just to see the look on Jimmy Carter's face. To hell with Carter, he was a shitty president and he rooted for a shitty baseball team!

My crew erupted as that ball flew over the fence. It was a riot. The Phillies won game five and now only had to win one of two games back in Philadelphia to claim the pennant. They were going to do it. And they did, kicking the Brave's ass 6-3 in game six to win the pennant. We got drunk and sang High Hopes. It's a stupid song, but that's what broadcaster Harry Kalas sang and if you love the Phillies you follow Harry's lead without question. World Series time!

The Toronto Blue Jays, who won the 1992 World Series, were waiting for the Phillies. This team was even more loaded than the Braves. At this point, I didn't care. After the roller coaster win of the National League Pennant, I was convinced it was Philadelphia's year. The press dubbed the matchup Team Canada vs. Team America's Most Wanted. Yeah, the Phils were that kind of group of characters.

Unfortunately for us, the Phillies ran out of magic in the World Series. After splitting the first two games, Toronto slaughtered the Phils in game three. Game four was the craziest game in World Series history (befitting of the 1993 Phils), with Toronto winning 15-14. You read that right, 15-14. I told you it was crazy.

Game five was do or die. Curt Schilling stepped up and pitched a complete game shutout to keep hope alive. He threw 147 pitches in that game, which is unheard of today. He may be a nut, but he sent the Series back to Toronto.

Then it was time for game six. I will feel the pain of this game for the rest of my life. I won't get into the gory details, but the Phils were three outs away from forcing a game seven when Joe Carter hit one of the most famous home runs in baseball history to win the title for Toronto. Oh man, we were devastated. It was awful. Then I nearly witnessed a murder.

Remember earlier I mentioned our neighbors weren't exactly fond of us? They were college students too, but they were boring assholes. And they certainly weren't happy about our numerous and boisterous Phillies victory celebrations. For a bunch of young guys like us, they were pretty lame. As we sat there staring at the TV in disbelief that our dream season was yanked from us so quick, one of them was out in the hallway shouting "JOE CARTER!" That was a mistake.

By the end of game six, me and my crew were quite intoxicated. And devastated. And disgusted. It was a lot to take in. Then all we hear is "JOE CARTER!" My one roommate flipped. He was a hockey player, so he grabbed his hockey stick and went flying out the door to kill the guy. Fair warning people: Don't piss on Phillies fans when they are down.

Luckily the goof was able to make it to his apartment before my roommate caught him. Unlucky for him my friend was trying to break down his door with the hockey stick. We had to drag him away. And I'm serious when I say drag. We then left the scene of the crime quickly because we convinced ourselves the goofs were going to call the cops on us. In hindsight that was a mistake. The cops would have probably been Phillies fans too and they might have finished the job once we told them about the insult. Oh well. Live and learn.

The Phillies came home defeated, but still loved. Thousands of fans greeted them at the airport to thank them for such a great year. Philadelphia Mayor Ed Rendall wanted to throw them a victory parade for winning the National League Pennant, but the team turned the offer down. And rightfully so, parades are for champions and the Phils fell a little short. But in the end it doesn't matter the Phils lost. Well, it does, but they are still beloved 25 years later for the excitement and energy they brought in that glorious year of 1993. They weren't supposed to be good, but they didn't care. Of course it didn't hurt that they had High Hopes.