Before last Saturday night there were many things I had never done.

Despite a lifetime love of baseball, I had never stood up for almost the entirety of a game. Despite nine years of living in L.A. and attending at least two games a month during baseball season, I had never sat in field level seats at Dodger Stadium. Despite having been to games at Yankee Stadium, Shea Stadium, Camden Yards, Kauffman Stadium, Minute Maid Park, the Astrodome, Nationals Park, Edison Field, etc. I had never had to put my arms between two grown men and say "simmer down!" repeatedly to prevent a brawl from occurring. I had also, of course, never been to a baseball game in which the team I was rooting for clinched a playoff series sweep and advanced to the League Championship series.

The division series between the Dodgers and the Cubs was supposed to have a different ending. The 'ol blue and white from the NL West had made it to the playoffs with the crappiest record out of the crappiest division in all of baseball. We were playing not only the team with the best league record, but a team who would begin the series in the site of perhaps baseballs' ultimate home field advantage - Wrigley Field. When I managed to get two tickets for the game it was not even certain that the Dodgers were IN the playoffs, and I'll admit I got tickets for the first home game figuring that would be the last chance I'd have of seeing the boys this season as they got swept off to that great off-season home in the sky. Needless to say, I was happy to be wrong.

Now here we are, one of the last four teams standing. Best of seven series against the Phillies begins tonight and honestly I don't know what to expect. We've gone from being the underdog to the prohibitive favorite. I'll be at Monday's game back in the upper deck where I belong, and who knows what will happen but I'm sure it will be fun.

As for Saturday? Standing with 56,000 people all waving bright white rally towels that reflect the stadium lights, screaming and roaring with barely contained glee and watching Jonathan Broxton pitch 101 mph strike after 101 mph strike? Yeah, I'd never done that.