"We know the score, we're gonna break down your door."

Weather permitting, which, looking out my window this morning, seems like a pretty ridiculous idea, we're just eight hours away now from first pitch of the World Series. Through a haze of sophomoric sportswriting on both sides of the Mercer-Middlesex line, dueling armies of trashtalking tweeters taking cheap shot after cheap shot at each other's cities, and a startling dearth of actual analysis of the upcoming Fall Classic, we can finally just about see our way to a baseball game this evening. And just like every series we've seen the Phillies play in the last two Octobers, the biggest advantage held by either team lurks under the radar, perched just atop the railing of the Phillies' dugout.

When average Joes, young and old alike, press the panic button, reaching deep into their scouting reports for guidance instead of allowing the game to present itself to them, instead of giving their players a chance to play, and win, the game for themselves (see: Aceves, Alfredo, ALCS game 3), it echoes down through the team. Charlie Manuel's calm, on the other hand, and his belief that his players can bail him out should his undying faith in every one of his players be misplaced, define this team. Charlie won't outthink himself, and he won't let his players either. It's wonderful to have the best lineup in baseball, which the Phillies do, and to play stellar defense, which the Phillies do, but what makes them a championship team is their mentality. It's what makes the Phillies the toughest team in baseball, and it's what is going to eventually win them this series in six games.