Perhaps a storybook ending for Burrell

If this was Pat Burrell's last memory of Philadelphia, and the last memory the city will have of Burrell in a home uniform, then it was a better ending than either the player or the town had a right to expect. "I'm taking in the moment," Burrell said last night, soaked from the champagne celebration in the clubhouse. "The players, the fans. We've been through a lot. To be able to hand this city this championship, it's something I wouldn't have understood five, six, seven, eight years ago." He can tick off all those numbers because he is the only one who has been around that long. Burrell became a regular in the 2000 season and he saw more losses than wins over that time, and saw moments when a scene like last night's didn't seem possible. "I'm proud to be here now," Burrell said. "You appreciate it. You're realistic as a player." Unlike the fans who may always have sweet hope every spring, players can look around a clubhouse and know when the team they are on has no chance. Burrell has been in that position a few times and seen the roster improve until the Phillies weren't just contenders, but contenders deep and talented enough to hoist that gold trophy with all the little flags. "I'm proud to say I play here," Burrell said. "I'm going to take it all in and I'm going to take it in for a long time." This part of Burrell's baseball journey may be complete now. He ascribed an arc here that went from top draft pick in the country, to young phenom, to big contract, to disappointment and, finally, to being accepted despite his flaws. If you were in Veterans Stadium the day after Burrell was drafted in 1998, and saw the 6-foot-4, 225-pound prodigy take batting practice, he looked like nothing less than the future about to arrive. It is 10 years later now, and Burrell turned 32 during this playoff run. Amazingly enough, after all the near-misses and the not-so-near misses, he finished this season with a hand on that trophy, and perhaps finished his career here the same way. Burrell is a free agent now, and coming off a season in which he had 33 home runs and 86 runs batted in. He was very hot in the beginning of the season, tailed off and was abysmal in the World Series until last night. Will the Phillies bring him back? It seems unlikely they would be willing to match the money he could make elsewhere. He is an attractive commodity on the open market and now he has the added burnishing of a world championship on his resume. "It's not really in my hands," Burrell said of his possible return. "It's up to them." Maybe the storybook ending would have been better if Burrell's drive to the left of center field that led off the seventh inning had gone into the seats. That would have been perfect, but it wouldn't have been as fitting for a player whose career hasn't always been. The ball bounced off the wall and caromed away from the centerfielder. A lot of players would have gotten a triple out of it, but Burrell was content to make it to second base with the peculiar, erect gait of his. He thought the ball was a home run when he hit it, but didn't get that lucky. Regardless, in what might have been his last appearance in a Phillies uniform during a game, he trotted off the field and slapped the hand of pinch-runner Eric Bruntlett, who would score the winning run in the 4-3 deciding game. "No doubt," Burrell said, about believing the ball to be out. "The way the series has been going for me, though, I wasn't sure. Two or three months ago, I would have hit and known it was out." Instead, the double broke an 0-for-13 run in the World Series, and Burrell had to enjoy its consequences from the bench. "He was sitting there without a hit in the World Series and then gets a huge double for us," manager Charlie Manuel said. "That's what it's about. Staying with it." The organization stayed with Burrell through nine long seasons, and paid him a lot of money along the way. He signed a six-year, $50 million contract before the 2003 season. In this final year, he made a team-high $14.25 million, more than a tenth of the team's total big-league payroll. Whatever happens next season, that won't happen again, and more likely than not, whatever happens for Burrell will happen somewhere else. That is the pity of winning a championship, in a way. The team is never the same again, never exactly the same. Players are peeled away or drift away or take someone else's money. Sometimes they find themselves always looking back to that one moment, that one time when everything fell into place. "To be here as long as I have and to see how things have changed and how we've played to get to this point," Burrell said, "This is the goal." And he looked around, past the microphones and the notepads, to the plastic-covered lockers and the happy teammates still spraying each other with champagne and beer. And, at last, Pat Burrell could finally see the future he was promised.