The ball hisses through the October night, slams into the right field seats, and just like that, just four batters in, and the Phillies have ridden the sizable back of The Big Bopper to a 2-0 lead in the game that means the difference between an overwhelming 3-1 advantage in games for the Phillies, or a back-from-oblivion 2-2 stalemate for LA.

This is not going to be easy, certainly not like the 11-0 torching of LA the previous evening.

"Pride's at stake here," admitted manager Joe Torre.

Right on cue, the Dodgers bunch enough hits to catch up and erase the lead Howard has built.

The Big Bopper is smokin' hot. In this postseason he has produced at least one RBI in each of the Phillies eight games, and passing Mike Schmidt along the way for most runs plated in the playoffs.

But more than the numbers, there is something calming about him, a quiet, reassuring presence. It is contagious. He exudes confidence, and asks them to "get me to the plate."

They will need him to eat his fill at the plate this night because the Dodgers are hanging tough. Wolf has settled down and settled in nicely. With the exception of Howard's homer, the other Fightin's are swinging muted bats. It is one of the puzzlements of sport, how a team can be so potent offensively one game and then all but helpless the next.

Charlie Manuel is a longtime observer of this phenomenon and has concluded this:

"That's the beauty of baseball - you can get beat 20-0 tonight and come back tomorrow and beat somebody. That happens all the time."

The Phillies are going with their good ol' hoss on the mound on this night. Joe Blanton knows a bit about bopping, too, having sent, on request from the Hall of Fame, the bat with which he belted a homer in last year's World Series.

For some reason, Blanton reminds me of Friday night high school football. He would be a linebacker, of course, and the one in charge, the one calling signals and positioning everyone.

On the mound, he has some Clydesdale in him, and bulldog, too.

He is a fan favorite because of his no frills, straight-on demeanor. He does yeoman work this night, firing 106 pitches en route to a 6-inning, 3-run performance. He does what he does, namely keeping them in the game. Acceptable under just about any circumstances.

The young and the uninitiated pitchers who first visit Philadelphia and their fans can come unglued by the stereophonic sound and the occasionally unkind chants. But Wolf is on a familiar mound and not intimated by the blizzard of white rally towels. He silences the bats and also the fans.

And then in the fifth the Dodgers seize the lead. It takes but one swing, by the prodigy Matt Kemp. At the wall in center, Shane Victorino climbs into the shrubbery and frantically waves a gloved hand.

Just short.

LA, 3-2.

And very soon, LA 4-2.

But what has always been the Phillies' point of pride is their resiliency. It is part of what makes you believe their best baseball is still ahead of them. If their roster can be kept intact, they can be serious contenders for years yet to come.

So Jimmy Rollins triples in the sixth and is scored by Chase Utley and that brings up Bopper. The Dodgers will not let him beat them. The unintentional intentional walk is dutifully issued.

The night deepens, the game creeps along. The Phillies are granted a wish: Bopper gets to bat in the bottom of the eighth, two on, one out, down 4-3. He strikes out.

Sometimes, as the old saying goes, you get the bear. And sometimes the bear gets you.