Best Laid Plans (Part 1)

As an insurance agent, I am required (for the most part) to get a designation. In other words, letters after my name. To do this, I am required to take five classes made up of three intense days of training on a particular topic and a fourth day to take a two hour essay test. What this means is that fifteen days of my life (three days of classes multiplied by five separate classes for those of you who are mathmatically challenged), I am away from my family to immerse myself in some facet of insurance. Also what this means is that for five evenings of my life, I have to study for several hours to make sure I am familiar enough with the materials of the previous three days to take (and hopefully pass) a test the following morning. Why am I telling you this?

Because one of these five days of my life just so happened to intersect with the SINGLE greatest day of my life as a Philadelpia sports fan. Wednesday, October 29th, 2008. The date that the Philadelphia Phillies were crowned World Champions.

I scheduled my training months ago. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that the three day joy fest that is a CIC seminar (CIC of course stands for Certified Insurance Counselor) that I set up for the last week of October would coincide with the World Series. For me, the World Series hasn't been a blip on the radar screen of my life in 15 years. I was a junior in high school. I was on a youth group retreat. I watched Joe Carter hit a walk off home run in Game 6 of the World Series to beat the Phillies. I watched the screen flash words I have become so accustomed to:

"Any other team but a Philadelphia team.......World Champions".

So when I discovered that Game 5 would be held on Monday night after my first class (not so bad since it was the first day and I had two more days to study that material) and much worse - Game 6 could be held on Wednesday night - the night before my test when I would need several hours to go through 100 notecards, I was in total shock.

When the Phillies won Game 4, I had a bizarre and unusual feeling: hope. There was a chance that the Phillies could not only win the World Series but do it on the first night of my class and I would be able to stay up late, celebrate with fellow fans and have two days to catch up on the material.

So, Monday night I headed down to the hotel bar to meet up with my fellow Phillies fans (try saying that five times fast - I couldn't either) and celebrate a World Series title. I walked in the door to find about 12 guys not really paying attention to anything in particular. An odd sight considering that the game was being played on two big screens in front of them. I sat down and ordered a tasty Sam Adams Octoberfest. I then tried to strike up a conversation with the guys around me to see what they thought the Phillies chances were that night. I quickly realized I was about to be disappointed.....on many levels.

On my left was a guy from Houston. He (along with everyone else in the bar, I discovered) was in town for a conference on something electrical. I still am not sure what he did and why he was there. Anyway, he was a Denver Broncos fan somehow. To his left was a guy from Toronto who assumed I knew where Toronto was. I don't. He was annoyed because there was no hockey on. I offered to make the goal horn sound whenever anyone crossed the plate. He declined my offer. They were nice guys but Phillies fans, or even baseball fans, they were not.

Now, the gentleman on my right was a different story. This guy was from Canada too but he was from Montreal so the guy from Toronto didn't like him. I guess Montreal is kind of like Canada's New Jersey. They just don't know it. As I watched with great intensity in what could be the deciding game of the World Series, Mr. Montreal asked me questions. His first question pretty much told me what kind of night it was going to be.

"Is this a playoff gayme or sometheeng?"

Then he started asking me other questions (please read phonetically as I try and write Canadian):

Mr. M: "What was the nayme of that golee fer da Flayers? We played him yars agoo."
Ryan: "What?"
Mr. M: "Thayt golee! He was a naystee (expletive)"
Ryan: "Ron Hextal?"
Mr. M: "Yay! Rahn Hextol! He was a naystee (expletive). I hayted that guy. He was a naystee..." Ryan: "Wow, look the Phillies just scored - don't you have a moose to shoot or something?"

OK, I didn't say that last part but did I ever want to. So in between hearing about Rahn Hextol and how homeowners like to pay $15,000 for enterainment systems in Texas, I couldn't really tell what was going on in the game. I later discovered that neither did the commissioner of baseball.

What happened next will go down as one of the weirdest things to ever occur in World Series history. A suspension of a (potentially) deciding game. But really, could anything different happen to a group as starved for a win as Philadelphia sports fans?

What that meant for me was that I would be facing my worst case scenario. A World Series (half) game the night before my test.

Stay tuned for Part 2..........

The NLCS

The drive home from Michigan was a long one. We had a child who screamed. We had a child who cried. We had a child who screamed and cried so hard he threw up. And that was in hour #2. Out of twelve. And a half. We had a 20 mile backup due to construction. That was in hour #9. Out of twelve. And a half.

My parents who went to the wedding drove back about an hour ahead of us. I talked to my dad a few times during the trip about traffic, where we were, how things were going, etc. A few hours after the throwing up child and a few before the parking lot on I-80, my dad said to me, "I have something that might make the trip a little better for you."

"What are you doing Thursday night?"

Those of you who know me, know I am a huge Philly sports fan. I love the Eagles with a passion. I have followed the Phillies since the mullet days of John Kruk, Lenny Dykstra, Darren Daulton and Mitch Williams a decade and a half ago. I am an admitted Flyers and Sixers bandwagon jumper. If they are doing well, I am interested. If not, I don't care. But the Eagles and Phillies I follow religiously. Soon after we first got married, Missy asked me if I HAD to watch EVERY Phillies game.

My dad has had monthly tickets to Phillies games for the past few years. We have an annual ritual every Spring where dad asks me to look over the schedule and recommend games for him to buy tickets to. By getting those tickets, he had the inside track to get Phillies playoff tickets. Thirty seconds after the Phillies clinched the series over Milwaukee, his contact for tickets called him. He had two tickets to Game 1 of the NLCS.

So last Thursday, my dad and I donned our matching Chase Utley shirts (not intentional) and headed for Citizens Bank Park.

Now when I say that my dad had the inside track to playoff tickets, I mean he had the HOOKUP for playoff tickets. We didn't have seats so far out that we might as well stand on top of our car in the parking lot. He had seats just below Joe Buck, Tim McCarver (of Fox Sports) and Harry Kalas - the legendary Phillies announcer. A guy I know is a beat writer for the Phillies. Our seats were 20 feet in front of him. We had our own restaurant, bar (which didn't close after the 7th inning), bathrooms and private entrance. Needless to say, these were great seats.

We got their early, enjoyed a nice meal of pulled pork sandwiches and headed to our seats to watch batting practice.

The game was a little nerve wracking for the first five innings. The Phillies did nothing and trailed by two. Until the sixth. Chase Utley hit a home run to tie the game. The cheering was deafening. I high-fived my dad. I high fived everyone around me. Then two batters later, Pat Burrell hit a solo home run to put the Phillies in front. For good. I lost my mind. I picked my dad up. I high fived everyone again. Including the 10 year kid next to me who I think was scared of me. I waved my rally towel. It was one of the highlights of my life as a Philly sports fan.

The Phillies, as they usually do, made us nervous at the end but finally won the game. We had a blast. Thanks for taking me, dad. I will never forget it.

Mel's Wedding

What a whirlwind last few weeks. Let me tell you about it:

My sister in law Mel, who I consider my second little sister (though she is almost as tall as I am) got married to Mr. Scott Barrett a few weeks ago - 10-4 to be exact. We were very excited to pack up and head out to the wedding in Michigan.

From what I have heard, read and seen in pictures it was an unbelievable wedding. Some said it was the best wedding they had ever been to. I mean, how couldn't it be? (By the way, you can check out pictures of the wedding at the family blog - delppartyofthree.blogspot.com) You had a God-centered service surrounding two beautiful people with a great love story. You had a parade of joy with six very adorable kids (including young Riley Delp in a newsboy hat, bow tie and Chuck Taylors). And of course you had the wonderful Missy Delp as the co-matron of honor and special music along with her sister Dana and Scott's sister, Julie. It was destined to be a perfect wedding.

Unfortunately, I missed about 95% of it.

You see, my job for the weekend was Riley duty. Because Missy was in the wedding party and singing at both the wedding and reception, she had a very busy (but FUN!!!) schedule from the time we got there until the time we left. My job was to make sure Riley got his naps and got to the church on time. Overall, I think I did a decent job however I am not nearly as good as Missy. I readily admit that.

Once Riley was done with his part in the parade of joy (with a little help from daddy), I sat him down in an open pew to take in the proceedings. However, unlike Missy, I was not prepared. I had no books. No toys. No pacie (how do you spell the short version of pacifier?). Nothing. So I busted out the Bible and started quietly reading from the first page I turned to - 2nd Chronicles. Unfortunately, about the time that Micaiah prophesies against Ahab (about 15 seconds in), Riley discovers that if he yells loud enough in church, it makes an echoey sound. So we had to get out.

Now my intention was to take to Riley back to where his pacifier and beloved Snoopy blanket were and leave him in the nursery with his cousin Scout while I snuck back into the service. However, when I got to the nursery, I discovered two high school girls, four kids playing and one REALLY upset baby. Baby Riley, can you do an impression of this child for me, please?

Thank you.

My initial thought was to wish them luck and take off. However, from the look on the one girl's face (it was similar to the face I have seen head coach Andy Reid have when the Eagles are on the goal line and he doesn't know what play to call but I digress), I knew she didn't know what to do and needed some help.

I offered a few suggestions - try the pacifier, try the bottle. I even tried the sssshhhhhhhhing that used to calm Riley down. Nothing worked. Then it hit me. That smell. I knew what was wrong. The dreaded poopy diaper. I told the girl that this child had a poopy diaper. Once again I read her face instantly and knew that there was only one person who was going to change this thing.

So, while Mel and Scott celebrated their blessed union on the happiest day of their lives less than 50 feet away, I changed a VERY poopy diaper from a child I knew nothing about other than his name was Cooper and he had the lung capacity of Pavoratti.

I spent the rest of the service rocking young Cooper and calming him down. Once he was settled and it was clear the service was over (parents started coming in and asking me how old this child was - I told them I had no idea which brought some concerned looks), I handed Cooper over to one of the girls. Instantly, Cooper's father showed up, scooped the boy into his arms, thanked the girls for their help and left.

It's funny. I really felt kind of bad about the whole thing for a while. I mean, yes I was there to watch Riley. But I wanted to be in that sanctuary. I wanted to see Mel and Scott get married. However, after some introspection and the voice of Godly reason via Missy, I realized that God had other plans. I was exactly where He wanted me to be. He wanted me to help those girls and that little boy more than He wanted me to be in that service. Even if I wanted the complete opposite.

That day, I was Jonah - the reluctant servant. You can read about him a few books after Chronicles.