The last few weeks have been an exercise in emotional whiplash. After the Phillies defeated the Braves to advance to the NLCS for the second consecutive year, they took a commanding 2-0 series lead over the Diamondbacks at home. The offense looked unstoppable. The pitching was unshakeable. Garrett Stubbs planned to swim inside Chase Field. The Phillies looked destined for the World Series. Life was good. 

Then they forgot to finish the job that most of the country—and perhaps the Phillies themselves—thought they’d already completed. After flying to the desert, they quickly ran out of gas. The overconfidence was palpable. The old, nasty habits returned. And when they returned home, they never refueled. The silence after Game 7’s loss was deafening. The greased poles on Broad Street had been applied too soon. 

The fallout, predictably, was devastating. 

As much as I like to scan social media following Phillies playoff victories, consuming every highlight on multiple occasions (from multiple broadcasts) and reveling in a panoply of memes and gif reactions, I forced myself into an X blackout. The shock, the frustration, the oppositional gloating—it was too much. I couldn’t swallow the pill that this squad of loveable himbos had forced down our collective throat. The same team that dismantled Atlanta had just lost to 83-win Arizona, which had squeaked in during the last weekend of the regular season. Who did they think they were, last year’s Phillies? 

Thus began a three-week grief cycle, which, for this writer, is only now starting to end. Still, sometimes it’s cathartic to work through the five stages, to interrogate your feelings and get vulnerable and raw about a season that, at one point, seemed like it would be the season. 

Below is how I’ve processed another postseason run that ended prematurely, when Red October became Sad October. I hope it helps those still suffering. 

1. Denial

Whenever Penn State loses a football game, my grandfather likes to tell people that the Nittany Lions didn’t actually lose, they just ran out of time. It’s a cognitive dissonance that never allows reality to disrupt expectation. By the same logic, in the direct aftermath of Game 7, it was helpful to believe that the Phillies didn’t lose to the Diamondbacks. They just ran out of innings. 

After the Phillies lost the World Series last year, the sorrow didn’t feel as acute. The team had overachieved and ridden a hot streak, good vibes, and clutch home runs from Bryce Harper and Rhys Hoskins through the playoffs to their final destination. Considering their roller-coaster and mediocre regular season, they weren’t supposed to have been there. With a little remove, everything they accomplished in the 2022 postseason was gravy. 

The fact that there was no more baseball to watch once the Phillies left Houston without a trophy made the grieving process bearable. It was easy to believe that the sport ended because the Phillies’ season ended. 

This year was harder. This team had real expectations. It also had “main character energy.” Until the Rangers decided to play Creed after victories, it seemed like the Phillies were the only organization in the playoffs with something fun to talk about: hummable walk-up songs, an SEC-esque home-field advantage, Bryce Harper stare-downs. The Phillies carried Major League Baseball with storylines and provided further proof that baseball could be an electric sport. Several days after the casket closed, however, it felt like baseball had passed away, too. I refused to believe it mattered any more in 2023. 

The prospect of watching Arizona compete where the Phillies should have been was too painful. Though I occasionally checked the scores, I didn’t tune into any of the first two games of the World Series. The Rangers and Diamondbacks felt like an alternate reality ripped out of the time-space continuum. In its place, I took solace in the fake #CancunWorldSeries, in which X accounts mashed up highlight reels of eliminated teams to make it seem as though they were still competing. Anything to avoid the truth. 

Less than a week later, the Rangers eventually defeated the Diamondbacks to win their first-ever world championship. Or so I’m told. Congrats to Texas for winning a World Series that never existed in 2023. 

(OK, in reality, I watched parts of Game 4 and Game 5 when it seemed like the Rangers would win. Call it hate-watching or schadenfreude. Sometimes, you have to make sure your opponent dies. Snakes Alive? No, Snakes Not Alive.) 

2. Anger

Typically, anger comes after denial. And for the purposes of the clinical grief cycle, we’ll keep the proper sequencing here. But anger was prevalent long before Jake Cave popped out to right field and officially dashed the Phillies’ hopes for a World Series title. 

Anger, of course, is an inherent emotion for the Philadelphia sports fan. Here is a list of many things I got angry about while watching this team crumble at the most crucial moments. 

– Nick Castellanos swinging at every single pitch. 

After putting on a home run derby against Atlanta, he could not have folded at a worse time. We saw his approach dip in September, but nothing could have prepared me for the swing-a-thon that turned him into an automatic out throughout the NLCS. 

– The 1-3 hitters going 1-for-20 in Games 6 and 7

Harper had two moments to play the hero like he did against San Diego last year, and he just missed them. It was indicative of an offense that never looked comfortable or confident in those final two games. They couldn’t stop chasing. They couldn’t get runners in from scoring position. The Diamondbacks put on a small-ball clinic and the Phillies countered by swinging and missing at baseballs two feet off the plate. It felt hopeless.

– Rob Thomson’s rigid decision-making. 

For as much as the skipper switched up the lineup throughout the regular season, he became indignant about hitting Alec Bohm in the cleanup spot night after night. Despite his production in Game 7, the third baseman had no approach at the plate throughout the majority of the playoffs. It seemed like Spencer Strider had stunned him in the NLDS and he couldn’t shake the shock. As Arizona game-planned around Kyle Schwarber and Harper, Thomson refused to lower him in the lineup and give his sluggers protection. It cost the Phillies. 

– Craig Kimbrel blowing it.

Was there anything more predictable than the Phillies closer destroying close games on consecutive nights? Something changed after Thomson overtaxed him in the ninth inning of the All-Star Game this season. Throughout August and September, he was a shell of his first-half self. I still can’t believe he allowed a home run to Alek Thomas, and yet it was obvious that would be the only result. The Phillies flew him too close to the sun, and predictably they got burned. 

– Jake Cave making the last out.

This is not about bashing Cave. He couldn’t help the situation the Phillies put themselves in. This is more about the roster construction throughout the majority of the season. The Phillies had one of the least useful benches I can remember (did Rodolfo Castro play more than five games?), and while utility players don’t typically have an impact in October, the glaring deficiencies and lack of pinch-hitting pop made this year’s group a major disappointment down the stretch. 

– The TBS broadcast crew

I’m going to need a moratorium on listening to Brian Anderson, Ron “Jinx the Phillies” Darling, and Jeff Francoeur for a long time.  

3. Bargaining

When Corbin Carroll collected the final out of Game 7, I started thinking about all the what-ifs. I’ve omitted many, but here is the gist:

What if the Phillies has scored one more run in Game 3? 

What if Thomson had let Cristopher Sanchez throw more innings in Game 4 and didn’t waste all his high leverage relievers early, thus allowing him to keep Kimbrel in the bullpen? 

What if the Phillies showed up to Game 6?

What if Castellanos took a couple pitches? And then maybe made contact with a runner at third base and less than two outs in Game 7? 

What if everyone just tried to make solid contact instead of taking home run hacks? 

What if losing was all a dream?

4. Depression

After I got through the imaginary scenarios, reality sank in. The Phillies had been eliminated from the playoffs. That was a fact. 

All the upcoming days and dates I had mentally blocked out to watch the World Series suddenly opened up. My heart rate and blood pressure started improving, but my mood declined. You can’t help but look ahead and envision a championship parade. But the consequences of projecting into the future only made the pain harder. I needed to see this team douse itself with Buds and champagne again. I needed to hear “Dancing on my Own” at least one more time. I needed J.T. Realmuto to tell his manager that the Phillies only needed four more wins. 

Instead, I sighed, knowing those things would never happen. The 2023 season was over. The only reason alcohol would escape a bottle would be from fans pouring one out in memory of a team that blew it. 

5. Acceptance 

I’m not sure what it was about Dave Dombrowski’s recent post-mortem press conference that made the world seem like it was going to be OK. The Phillies president of baseball operations has spent the last couple of years building a fun, homer-happy, occasionally infuriating, ultimately successful ball club—and he’s done it without fleecing the farm system like most people expected when he took over in 2020. 

But as he fielded questions from reporters about the disappointing finish and the winter ahead, he appeared level-headed, thoughtful, optimistic. He helped put things into perspective. This was both a great year and an underachieving one. Two things could be true. 

Unlike a lot of general managers and presidents, Dombrowski doesn’t condescend to his fan base and he isn’t afraid to spend owner John Middleton’s money. He whiffed at the trade deadline this year, but he’s returning a core of starting players and pitchers in the midst of their prime. The roster may look a bit different after the winter. Aaron Nola may not be part of the rotation and Rhys Hoskins might not be a primary voice in the clubhouse. But Dombrowski’s calm reason about where this team stands put me at ease and into a state of acceptance. He dulled the sting of losing. 

After all, winning is hard. But the Phillies are set up to keep doing it. There are things to fix, improvements on the horizon. There are more crazy nights at Citizens Bank Park ahead. This is the eternal plight and necessary delusion of a Phillies fan. 

Get me to Clearwater.