BY JAMES DOOLITTLE I swear that at some point yesterday, I sped past a news article that made mention of a Pat Burrell sighting at Five Guys Burgers over on Chestnut Street following Monday’s Phillies rally at Dilworth Plaza. For the record, I can’t put my finger on this news brief, although I will say it was full of non-specifics and only contained two purported facts — that Pat The Bat was eating a burger, and he was eating it alone.
I spent a good part of last night questioning whether I could have hallucinated this item, or whether it’s Burrell subconscious projecting itself into the deepest recesses of my sleep-deprived mind, because watching him in those last few glorious games, I got the sense in a few well-timed cutaways during gameplay that Pat finally has found relief for the expectations that have hounded him his entire career.And if no one else is going to say it, then dammit, I will: Pat, we forgive you for 2003.
And if you are indeed biding time eating a burger in solitude, the least we can do is put aside that hefty price tag, those many years of drafting you too early in our fantasy leagues, all those aggravating moments that we haven’t forgotten. Yes, put them aside and break buns.
Philadelphia, as you descend on South Philly today, make a pit stop on Chestnut, grab five burgers, sneak them into Citizens Bank Park, and when our Pat Burrell steps into the batter’s box, unwrap one for each at bat, raising it high in solidarity, letting Pat know, he will never eat alone again.
And yes, that’s five burgers for five at-bats . . . because we’re gonna kick the living shit out of those Colorado motherfuckers.