Cole Hamels, Poetic Endings, and Loving Baseball Again Two Years Later
When baseball teams are shitty and wins and losses become temporarily irrelevant because the latter is mostly inevitable, you begin to root for players and follow other storylines outside of direct game results.
When players on those shitty team played for previous versions of that team that were not shitty but rather champions, things can get weird.
When things get weird, legendary stories are occasionally born — The ones that become highly exaggerated and told to future grandkids who then tell their friends.
Did you ever hear about how Cole Hamels pitched a perfect game in Chicago in his final start as a Phillie, casually hugged everyone goodbye, and immediately hopped on a plane to Texas?
Here’s what actually happened.
Two years ago on this very day — July 25 (2015) — Cole Hamels pitched a no hitter in his final start as a Phillie. It wasn’t a perfect game, but it was damn near close as the Cubs twice reached base on walks. He flew back to Philadelphia and four days later was traded to the Texas Rangers. He held a non-required press conference to tell everyone goodbye. Then, he hopped on a plane to Texas.
The real thing doesn’t sound quite as cool as the tale that will be spun at Philadelphia watering holes and playgrounds decades from now, but to those who witnessed it live, it meant just as much.
I’ve written extensively about Hamels in the past on my old blog. This though, was something different, something straight out of baseball heaven that not even an award-winning film director could have scripted.
It was a near foregone conclusion that Hamels was going to be traded that summer. The Phillies owned the worst record in the league, and the 2008 World Series hero was their best chip to bring back a boatload of young talent that could spark their rebuild.
As risky and as bittersweet as it was, it felt inevitable, and the pressure seemed like it might be getting to him. In his two starts leading up to that Saturday afternoon in Chicago, Hamels didn’t make it past the third inning in either one, surrendering a combined 14 runs.
The concerned whispers grew louder.
Here we go again. He’s secretly hurt. This is Cliff Lee all over. The Phillies missed their chance to strike and won’t get anything in return.
The latter of those bad three inning starts came on a Sunday in Philadelphia. My goal was to make it home for that game — to see the pitchewho ended a 25-year championship drought in-person one final time.
I couldn’t do it though. Or more accurately, I didn’t figure out a way to do it.
That summer was a real blur to me. I often joke with people that I felt like it snowed a lot and then all of a sudden football started again, forgetting that the summer months even happened.
I was spending a ton of energy on one of the coolest projects I had ever been a part of at work but had no idea how to manage my time outside of it, and it came with some costs, one of which being that I felt like I had fallen a bit out of touch with baseball.
I had maybe watched one Phillies game over the past month, and that was only because of Aaron Nola’s debut a few days prior. I hadn’t been to a home game all season. I didn’t know stats like I typically did and was behind on my fantasy teams. I’m not even sure I fully knew Hamels was pitching when that Saturday started.
That’s why I wanted to write this post two years later because what happened in the coming hours got me back into baseball.
It was around the seventh inning that I took a break from work to realize something was happening.
Two things went through my head.
- Find this game on TV, you idiot.
- Text someone.
I did the first one and texted my dad. Back in 2007 before I even had my license, my dad and I watched Hamels strike out Barry Bonds in the ninth of a late May game, Citizens Bank Park electric as the young lefty froze Bonds with his signature changeup. I figured he would appreciate the moment.

I’m now inches away from my TV screen, the most invested I’ve been in an actual game and probably three years.
Two outs to go. One out. Here we go.
Oh god, that ball is crushed. There’s no way it can stay in the park, right? Fuck.
When Odubel Herrea completed the diving catch on Kris Bryant’s long fly ball, it felt like time flashed back to seven years earlier.
Carlos Ruiz. Ryan Howard. Chase Utley, who was on the DL at the time watching from the dugout, all mobbing Hamels around the mound. The core of the 2008 World Series team celebrating together one final time.
Still in shock, I texted my dad again.

It felt like Philadelphia had the closure it needed after the mound celebration. The trade deadline wouldn’t be as tough to swallow. The Phillies would get a haul for him and this would be the final memory.
I was just happy I didn’t miss it entirely and got to see the end.
I gotta figure this out. How have I gone almost an entire summer without following baseball like I usually do?
That afternoon reminded me how amazing the sport can be and to take a break and make time for hobbies no matter what else is going on.
News broke around 10 p.m the following Wednesday, which happened to be one of my busiest times of the week.
Slightly overwhelmed, I threw my remote against the wall. This was never going to be easy, but I thought about the previous Saturday and smiled.
Most iconic players when they get traded just send a tweet or take out an ad in a local newspaper. Hamels held a farewell press conference the following day, wanting to say goodbye before heading to the airport.
After it was over, I looked at a few stats, went to check my fantasy team, and read a few box scores, feeling like I was back in my groove again and I was going to figure out the rest.
He didn’t only bring me a championship but seven years removed from it reminded me why I loved baseball in the first place.
Thanks for everything, Cole.

