Parade of stories along Phillies' route

- M.D.

Evan Zolinsky is only 16, but the best day he will ever have in his life, he was quite sure, has already come.

"Ever since I was born, this was the only thing I wanted," said Zolinsky, of Limerick, Montgomery County. "Finally it comes."

For the parade, Zolinksky painted his face red and white, and gave himself a mohawk - a clever way, he thought, to mock Tampa Bay fans and players who had embraced the mohawk for their playoff run.

To make sure he got a good position - "First row, baby!" - he arrived at 7 a.m. with his friend Carl Heimer. Of course they cut school.

"The city deserves this more than any other city in the country, besides maybe Cleveland," he said. "It's been 9,280 days of waiting."

- P.K.

Mike Case is a 55-year-old math teacher and baseball coach at Preston High School, in a little town south of Tulsa, Okla.

He has never lived in Philadelphia. He has no relatives here.

So what was he doing in a prime spot at 20th and Market Streets with his two daughters, waiting as ardently as any homegrown fanatic for the start of the parade?

"I've been a fan since 1961," said Case.

And why?

"I had a babysitter who had a cousin who was Don Demeter, who played outfield for the Phillies."

- M.D.

Catching a glimpse of the parade was a bonus on Sansom Street east of Broad.

Blue Dumpsters had been rolled into the middle of the block, fathers hoisted children on top, and cheers welled up at random in anticipation of the cavalcade.

Around 12:15 p.m., the crowd erupted. Chase Utley? Jimmy Rollins? No, just a guy leading cheers from the top of a sausage truck.

At 12:21, a teenager fell into a Dumpster as the plastic top collapsed. No one blinked.