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Phillies respond to Eagles with parade of single truck traveling one thousand miles

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Truck Day is an annual tradition, typically lost in the shuffle and groaning of the sports schedule. BUT NO MORE.

MLB: Spring Training-Toronto Blue Jays at Philadelphia Phillies Kim Klement-USA TODAY Sports

Before the trash from the Eagles Super Bowl parade even had a chance to join the nearest garbage herd and assimilate to its new life in Philadelphia, the Phillies held a little parade of their own. It was one truck long, its route was over 1,000 miles, and nobody came to watch it.

It’s called Truck Day, and until this year, it was typically held behind a cacophony of grumbling about the devastation and/or sadness of another Eagles season. But not this time. The Phillies sent their equipment truck to Clearwater from a city rejuvenated for sports even though, yes, the Flyers are still in-season. Nevertheless, that annual footage of the Phanatic hanging from the cab of the truck circulated as it always does, giving us one last baseball tether to cling to before pitchers and catchers report.

By now, you know what’s in there:

  • 10,000 12 oz POWERADE cups
  • 2,400 baseballs
  • 1,200 bats
  • 450 pair of socks
  • 150 pair of batting gloves
  • 25 sets of golf clubs
  • 6 bikes
  • 1 Phanatic hot dog launcher
  • The future
  • All of your emotions
  • The Phanatic, curled into a tiny ball, asleep
  • The scent of stale hot dog meat that, upon being released into the Florida air, will join the beach scents and tequila smells of Clearwater to create a pure summertime jetstream
  • Stowaway Broad Street line subway rats, about to begin their brief new lives in the marshes of the Sunshine State
  • Eagles parade attendees who, when they boarded yesterday, thought they had found a nice, dark cube in which to nap it off

It may look like your typical white truck with a 7-foot Muppet dangling off the side, but that truck is the harbinger of summer, a sign that winter’s death is soon upon us, and that the world will soon reawaken to the sound of cracking bats and slapping mitts.

Unless there’s some sort of cataclysmic labor dispute, of course! Ha ha. Baseball.