It will be my birthday, and the Phillies are either done for the season, or hanging by an improbable thread. They are such a schizophrenic team — in the past two weeks, I’ve seen them play incredible baseball, come back from 6-run deficits in the 9th inning, and basically dominate the other team.

I don’t know where that team went. And even if they won last night (UPDATE: They lost), all it will do is postpone the inevitable. Oh well.

One of the classic signs of a bad team is when one person tries to drag the team on his back, and the person who did that this year is one Bryce Harper. He is a joy to watch (at least most of the time) and in the past six weeks or so, almost superhuman at times.

The story of my birthday is that every year, my mother would bring out the cake, my family would sing a rushed “Happy Birthday” to me, I’d blow out the candles, and my father and brothers would load up their plates with cake and ice cream before rushing to the living room to watch the Phillies play the last game of the season.

It was easier then. There was no chance of post-season play (except for 1964, but we don’t like to talk about that). And now, because for a short time, the Phillies made us see the vision again for at least a week, the last day of the regular season will be a little more poignant than usual.