By: Luan Zuccarello
….simply Harry
At 1:20pm on April 13th 2009 the one thing that has been constant in my life changed forever. It didn’t matter if I had a bad day, the one thing I could count on was Harry at game-time. For 162 days/nights over the course of my 27 years Harry has laughed with me and cried with me. He drank beers with me and shared a hot dog. He was there when my Dad would wake me up to catch the last inning of a ball game. He kept my grandfather and me company on hot summer days listening to the radio. He went to college with me, and got introduced to a whole new group of friends. He was there when I was in high school and would make out with my girlfriend in the basement while listening to the Phillies blow another one. In July, he would come down the shore with me and return in August. He was there through deaths, weddings, and new life. That’s what makes this man so special, and this time so hard. He was the soundtrack of our lives.
Harry was one of your buddies. He was one of the guys that sat around late drinking beers and busting balls. He was the epitome of “cool”. The man didn’t even need a last name – simply Harry. Young people, old people, and even girls knew him and loved him. He understood Philadelphia fans better than any outsider has or ever will. We opened up our hearts and lives and made him a Philadelphian, and in return Harry provided us with memory after memory.
Harry’s last memory might not be a happy one but he died the way I think all of us would want to go – doing the thing he loved most. So instead of feeling sorry and sad, lift your drink and toast our friend. Sing “High Hopes” until you lose your voice, tell stories about the time Mitchy-Poo won the game at 2am, imitate Mike Schmidt’s 500th home run, and most of all remember the times you shared with the man.
At 1:20pm on April 13th the one thing that has been constant in my life changed forever. It didn’t matter if I had a bad day, the one thing I could count on was Harry at game-time – simply Harry.