What Would I Tell the Phillies?

Last night the Phillies beat the Indians in dramatic fashion with a walk-off homer in the ninth by Jimmy Rollins.
It was a great win but they just haven't been playing well for over a month now and it's been wearing on the fanbase and probably on the team.
We expected them to run away with the division and instead they are 5 games out behind the Braves...the most undeserving team in the history of baseball. (14 Division titles and ONE World Series win to show for it? The Marlins have more Series wins than you!)
Somebody asked me the other day if I thought the Phillies needed to read "Harry Kalas Saved My Life!" I thought it was nice of them to say that but why would they read it?
Then I realized maybe it would be a good idea. From what I understand these are great guys on this team. No jerks, no prima donnas. But they are all well paid stars. And maybe somehow they just forgot what it means to sit in the stands after a crappy day at a job you hate and watch your team in your ballpark and really need a win.
Maybe they lost sight of who they play for. Not "the city" but the individuals who make up the 47000 in the seats each night. The dads who are taking their son or daughter to the ballpark for the first time, or the son or daughter sitting there without their dad for the first time, and missing him like crazy.
The man who never got the chance to go to a game when he was a kid...who is now getting to be a kid again at the ballgame.
Or the guy like me who lost everything, misses his home and his hometown, and who loves this team because it's all he has left to count on for some hope and some pride in a world that has spun crazily out of control.
In the ballpark there isn't any unemployment, no broken down Volvo with too many miles to count anymore, no oil destroying a natural resource like the Gulf, no war and no doubts and fears about tomorrow.
In the ballyard there is green grass...like it's always been...and white chalk lines and blue skies that fade to glorious sunsets under the lights. Hot dogs taste better, peanuts are saltier, and red pinstripes look better than your wedding tux did on the best day of your life.
Those men out there who do that thing we dreamed about throughout our whole childhood...they are messengers of hope. Every at bat might be the one that brings a memory. Every windup the moment we never forget. The potential exists in every single game of every single season that this night will be something I talk about with my child when I am an old man.
These days I need that. I need to walk into the ballpark and be hopeful and get my mind off of this train of worry and concern I am lugging like a locomotive.
I would tell the players "You give me hope...every one of you, every single day. I need you to win. It's not just a game and you're not just some team...you are my team. I was never good enough to walk out there but you are. You do it for me every night. Think of me once in a while, as you get ready to play this game. Think of me and all those people who fell asleep at night, as little boys, dreaming of being you. Like some kid is going to do tonight. I know you love the game and I know you work hard. Work a little harder...for me. My life hasn't been easy, especially lately and I need to walk out of this ballpark tonight with my head held high and my chest puffed out just a bit and a win under my belt. I know you care and I know you want to win. Once in a while, remember me and all the folks like me...and want it just a little more."