2022 World Series: Phillies' youthful exuberance has helped fuel success

Alec Bohm didn't actually want a cigarette, but his buddy, Matt Vierling, insisted.

An hour earlier, the Phillies had given themselves sufficient reason to kick back when Bryce Harper took the "swing of his life" homer to send the Phils to the World Series. (Game 1 at 8 p.m. ET Friday on FOX.) You've probably seen it by now. 

That go-ahead blast kicked off the club's third raucous locker-room champagne celebration in as many weeks. But after 30 minutes of beer-soaked hysteria, the party was threatening to die down. The media started to file out. The music volume dipped. Players gradually stopped dousing one another with cheap booze and started heading to the showers. 

But Vierling, with a full pack of cigarettes in one hand and a brew in the other, knew the night was young. There was more mischief to be had.

The second-year center fielder prowled about the clubhouse, offering heaters to players, coaches, media members, wives of owners — really, any human being who might be jonesing for a nicotine rush. His teammate, Bohm, was simply another customer in his path.

So, after a bit back and forth, Bohm relented. Vierling fished into the box and pulled out a single cigarette, handing it to Bohm. The shirtless third baseman reluctantly accepted the offering and tried taking a puff, before realizing that his tobacco tube lacked the requisite fire.

"I got you, man." Vierling replied. 

But instead of pulling a lighter out of his pocket, he leaned his face toward Bohm's until the edges of their cigarettes — Vierling's lit, Bohm's in need of a spark — made contact. After a second or two, Bohm's heater caught flame via the embers of Vierling's, and like a twisted dirtbag version of "Lady and the Tramp," the two ballplayers had succeeded in their outrageous task.

Bohm inhaled.

"Oh, wow, that's gross," He sputtered, coughing out a bit of smoke. "I really don't want this."

The 6-foot-5 third baseman discarded his just-lit cigarette to the carpeted floor and immediately stomped it out with the underside of his flip-flop. Then, to wash the taste out of his mouth, he leaned back and helped himself a hefty swig of beer. But by the time Bohm looked up, Vierling was gone, bouncing on to a different corner of the locker room, looking for anyone else in need of a smoke.

Just another day inside the juvenile wonderland that is the 2022 Philadelphia Phillies, the Greatest College Baseball Team of All Time.

Professional baseball is inherently ... professional. The players are being paid, handsomely, and usually the energy around a ballclub reflects that reality. Sure, it's better than other jobs, but it's still a job, and so, players tend to take their craft seriously.

College baseball, on the other hand, despite its immense time commitment, is not a money-making endeavor, at least for the majority of people. For a precious few, it's an avenue toward an affordable education, a dash of NIL money or a shot at the pros, but the majority of folks participate in college baseball, and college sports in general, as a source of joy. 

Most of us, as the saying goes, go pro in something other than sports.

Collegiate athletics are an excuse to build community through commitment, just like any other club, sorority or student group. Whether a season ends undefeated or super-defeated, it's primarily about "the friends you made along the way." May comradery reign supreme.

Welcome to the Phillies clubhouse.

"You would never really think it's a major-league team." Shortstop Bryson Stott said. "It's just absolute mayhem at all times. But honestly, enjoying one another's company is just a big, big thing."

Here, there is idiocy, good-natured tomfoolery, a healthy helping of "bro-ing out." After each win, the locker-room speakers blast a remarkably crude song sung by a gentleman named Trey Lewis whose lyrics cannot be repeated here. The team knows every word. 

A player who nicknamed himself "Wolfie" runs around howling at no one in particular. Another group of dudes lounge around, nursing beers while discussing the best moments from the game that was. Someone else is singing in the shower.

The position players on this team, particularly the younger ones, are dodos, total jabronis and utter goofballs in the best, most endearing way. Their youthful exuberance is off the charts. That group, which includes Bohm, Vierling, Bryson Stott, Nick Maton and Brandon Marsh, are known playfully as "Phillies Day Care." But despite their relatively low percentage of playing time, they've helped to create an infectious, collegiate vibe that permeates through the whole clubhouse.

"There are times in my career that I've felt like an energetic kid, and other times I've felt like an employee." said outfielder Nick Castellanos, who was drafted straight out of high school. "To be around teammates who still live with their parents and are coming up with silly nicknames for each other, that's been a lot of fun."

But according to many people around the club, Castellanos and his outfield mate Kyle Schwarber deserve a ton of credit for cultivating the team's tight-knit atmosphere. When the team visited Castellanos' hometown of Miami early in the year, the vet made sure to take them out to some of his favorite spots.

It sounds simple, but the Phillies hang out with one another beyond the diamond not because they feel like they have to, but because they genuinely want to. Team dinners are a constant. Players often grab drinks together after games. Believe it or not, that's not always the norm across the big leagues.

"We're going out there to win every single day," Schwarber said "But we're also going to try to find the fun, quirky things about every single day that make you smile and laugh."

Speaking of fun, quirky things, mandatory karaoke is, for many college baseball programs, an unofficial cornerstone of the experience. The freshmen sing, the upperclassmen hoot and holler. Whether on a bus during a long drive, a clubhouse during a rain delay, or a local watering home during the wee hours of the night, obligatory karaoke is, more often than not, harmless fun, an opportunity for some comfort-zone discarding, a chance for the team to create inside jokes and join together. 

During a road trip in July, the Phillies held their own karaoke night. At a hotel ballroom somewhere in St. Louis, the entire club got together for a night of food, drinks, camaraderie and awful singing by some of the team's younger players. Castellanos and Schwarber arranged an entire DJ booth, complete with huge speakers and turnstiles. It turned out to be a night they'd never forget.

Reliever Andrew Bellatti sang "Ice, Ice Baby." Starter Ranger Súarez followed that up with a thrilling rendition of "Suavemente." While initially only the younger players were expected to perform, the veterans were having such a good time they got in on the fun. 

"Honestly, I think Castellanos was just looking for an excuse to sing with other people." Stott joked.

Schwarber sang too, drawing upon his high-school experience in the show choir. "He has some pipes," one player admitted. Even the famously stoic JT Realmuto got up there and grabbed a mic.

"I think he smiled at one point. JT never smiles. We gave him some stick for that," Stott said.

The 2022 Phillies are a professional baseball team, one just four games away from a World Series title, but they are also a group that operates with the exuberance, enthusiasm, oddness and childish mischievousness of a bunch of stupid college dudes. 

Marsh soaks his hair in water before every defensive inning. Every champagne celebration includes a rousing, frat-house rendition of "Dancing On My Own." Even Harper is jumping up and down like a teenager. Vierling roams the clubhouse with a pack of cigarettes. The team's final BP group starts their round every day with a bizarre, made-up, field-hockey-ish game of pepper where they whack a baseball around aimlessly. 

Don't get it twisted: The Phillies face a daunting task in this World Series. Houston is a better team on paper, and championships cannot be won with good chemistry and immaculate vibes alone. There aren't enough drunken cigarettes in the world to foil Justin Verlander.

But the Phillies players — the position players in particular — are enjoying themselves too much to worry about all that. They are still professionals, sure, focused on doing their best every day, etc., etc., yada, yada, whatever — but they are also along for the ride, squeezing out every ounce of magic they're getting to experience with their pals. 

Just a bunch of dudes, hitting baseballs, slugging brewskis and ripping heaters; ain't no better way to spend October.

The Phillies have made quite a few memories this postseason. Over the next week, they'll seek to make a few more. And isn't that the whole point?

Jake Mintz, the louder half of @CespedesBBQ is a baseball writer for FOX Sports. He’s an Orioles fan living in New York City, and thus, he leads a lonely existence most Octobers. If he’s not watching baseball, he’s almost certainly riding his bike. Follow him on Twitter @Jake_Mintz.