PHILADELPHIA -- The Phillies' celebration was in full bloom as midnight ET approached Wednesday. Players and fans were giddy with excitement out on the cold Citizens Bank Park field, embracing each other, screaming and yelling, and celebrating the team's first World Series championship in 28 years.
The usual champagne squirting and dousing was picking up momentum in the players' sanctuary. In a more sane hallway leading to the clubhouse, Charlie Manuel was telling friends how happy he was to finally win a World Series. He hadn't yet walked into the clubhouse to join the party.
Just as a TV camera's light flashed on, virtually blinding the skipper for a second or two, closer Brad Lidge -- with a baseball in his hand and followed closely by catcher Carlos Ruiz -- pushed his way through a rapidly growing media mob to get at Manuel.
Lidge stuck his hand between me and a couple other reporters to reach the manager.
"It's for you," a hoarse Lidge said. "Carlos and I have been fighting over it. We decided you should have it."
There was a trace of tearing in Charlie's bright blue eyes as he took the ball.
"That's Mr. Perfect," Manuel said to me, referring to Lidge's 48-for-48 saves docket for the season.
"How about that?" he added, staring at the precious gift and visibly moved.
It was the ball Lidge threw past the Tampa Bay Rays' Eric Hinske, sealing the 4-3 victory and igniting a Philadelphia celebration that will continue until we're all knee-deep in snow. Lidge thought Ruiz, his catcher, should have it. Ruiz said Lidge, the relief ace, should keep it.
And it could be just as important to 64-year-old Manuel as the long-coveted World Series ring he'll soon wear -- or the $300,000 winning share that will be in the mail before Christmas.
There could never be a more obvious gesture that shows the respect and love the players have for "Chuck."
I watched the Phillies lose the 1950 World Series to the Yankees in four games. I lived through the Great Collapse of '64, which I thought was exorcised when the Phillies became champions in the '80 Series.
I chronicled their loss to Baltimore in 1983 and Joe Carter's devastating home run in '93 that gave the Toronto Blue Jays a second consecutive World Series trophy.
But of all the 44 World Series that I've covered as a reporter, 2008 is special. Charlie Manuel made it special.
The National League Manager of the Year Award will be announced on Nov. 12, and I doubt Manuel will get it -- which is the ultimate injustice.
The Phillies wouldn't be poised for Friday's parade down Broad Street if it weren't for Good Ole' Charlie.
"He was so important for us," said shortstop Jimmy Rollins. "No question, the players have great respect for him."
On the golf course one afternoon late in the season, Charlie seemed concerned his players weren't showing the same determination that carried them to the 2007 National League East title.
Maybe it was time to send them a not-so-subtle message.
"When I get mad, I have a tremendous temper," Manuel said. "People say they haven't seen it, and it's good they don't see it. I can get my message across. At the same time, I think my players see my love for the game and my passion -- how much I pull for them. I want to give them comfort to play and succeed."
Rollins is one of Charlie's favorite players because of how the shortstop approaches the game. But on two occasions during the season, Manuel benched the 2007 NL MVP. Charlie's dugout confrontation with an unhappy Brett Myers in front of TV cameras is legendary.
So, just when it looked like his Phillies were going to falter down the stretch, they played their best baseball of the season. They won 25 of their last 30 games, including 11 of 14 in the postseason.
Manuel has a knack for getting the most out of his players. He has an uncanny ability to make sometimes questionable moves that make him look like a genius.
When Game 5 was resumed Wednesday night after the 46-hour "rain delay," he chose slumping Geoff Jenkins to pinch-hit for pitcher Cole Hamels. Jenkins, hitless in the World Series, smashed a double to right field and eventually scored to give the Phillies a quick 3-2 lead.
"I had faith in Jenkins against Grant Balfour," Manuel said. "They both played for Milwaukee last year."
Charlie is especially adroit at handling his bullpen, which led the NL during the regular season with a 3.22 ERA and a .589 winning percentage. The bullpen hasn't lost a game since Sept. 3.
He'll never admit it, but I have a hunch Charlie had an inner feeling the Phillies were going to give him his first World Series championship after his 46 years in the baseball.
At dinner one night as the postseason was about to get under way, Manuel remarked about his confidence in the team.
"I think we're going to be OK," he said. "I'm not worried about this team."
On the eve of the NL Championship Series against Los Angeles, Manuel's 87-year-old mother, June, suffered a massive heart attack. She died three days later.
"I talked to her all the time on the phone," he said. "I'd be sitting in my office before a game and she would call. The day before she died, she called me. 'Pray for me,' she said. I told her, 'I will. And you pray for us.' She said, 'Don't worry, son.'"
When Manuel walked onto the field for Wednesday's postgame ceremony, fans waved red-and-white towels and chanted "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie," a tribute to Philadelphia's newest folk hero.
"That really made me feel good," he said modestly. "It means everything to me."
When somebody asked what he thought his mother would have said after the greatest victory of his life, there was little hesitation.
"I think she'd be hollering and laughing," he said. "And I think she'd be telling us how good a team I had and all that stuff."
He rambled, as he can do, about when you wear a World Series ring "everybody always wants to see the ring." Once you win a World Series, you become a winner.
"And you know, when somebody asks me what I want to be known as, I want to be known as a winner," Manuel said. "That kind of tells the whole story."
Which is what Charlie Manuel is -- and was long before Wednesday night.
All that victory did was make more people aware.