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..........