It’s late October in South Philly. The air is crisp, smelling faintly of diesel fumes, cheesesteaks, and that specific brand of nervous energy that only exists when 45,000 people are collectively holding their breath. Then, the beat drops. It’s not a pump-up rap song or a heavy metal classic. It’s a synth-pop cover of a Robyn song by a British artist named Calum Scott. Suddenly, Citizens Bank Park is a sea of waving rally towels and bearded men screaming lyrics about crying in a corner.
If you aren't a baseball fan, the obsession with dancing on my own phillies fans have displayed over the last few years makes zero sense. Why is a heartbreak ballad the soundtrack to a bunch of high-fives and beer showers?
The truth is, sports traditions are rarely planned in a boardroom. They’re born in locker rooms, usually fueled by a mix of superstition, inside jokes, and a little bit of postseason magic.
Where the obsession actually started
The story doesn't start with a marketing genius. It starts with Kevin Long’s son.
Back in 2022, the Phillies were kind of a mess early on. They fired Joe Girardi, looked like they might miss the playoffs again, and were generally underachieving. But then they started winning. During that run, backup catcher Garrett Stubbs—who has basically become the team’s unofficial Master of Ceremonies—was looking for a playlist.
He’s credited with bringing the "Tiësto Remix" of Calum Scott’s "Dancing On My Own" into the clubhouse. Apparently, the song had been a favorite of the younger Long during the previous season. The players liked the vibe. It was upbeat enough to celebrate to, but the lyrics had this weird, underdog energy that fit a team nobody expected to make the World Series.
They won the Wild Card. They played the song. They upset the Braves. They played it louder. By the time they reached the NLCS, it wasn't just a locker room track; it was a city-wide phenomenon.
It’s about the vibe, not just the lyrics
Let’s be real. The lyrics are depressing. It’s literally about watching someone you love be with someone else. "I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh oh oh." Not exactly "We Are The Champions."
🔗 Read more: NFL Week 5 2025 Point Spreads: What Most People Get Wrong
But fans didn't care.
In Philadelphia, being an underdog is a lifestyle. The city thrives on the "nobody likes us, we don't care" mentality. There’s something oddly poetic about a stadium full of people singing a song about being alone, together. It became a communal experience. You’d walk into a bar in Rittenhouse Square or a dive in Delco, and the moment that synth line started, everyone knew what time it was.
Interestingly, Calum Scott himself was caught completely off guard. He’s gone on record multiple times saying he had no idea why a baseball team in Pennsylvania was obsessed with his 2016 cover. He eventually ended up wearing a Phillies jersey and leaning into the madness, because how could you not? When a fan base adopts your song as a battle cry, you just enjoy the ride.
The 2023 "Retirement" that didn't stick
Every good story needs a bit of drama. After the Phillies lost the 2022 World Series to the Astros, the team tried to move on. They actually tried to retire the song.
Kyle Schwarber and some of the veterans thought the song belonged to the 2022 season. They wanted a fresh start for 2023. They tried new songs. They tried to make "AOK" by Tai Verdes or other tracks happen.
The fans? They hated it.
The silence where the song used to be felt wrong. It was like a piece of the team's identity was missing. By the middle of the 2023 season, the players folded. They brought it back. The first time those speakers blared the remix again, the roar from the crowd was louder than most home runs. It proved that once a tradition takes root in a place like Philly, you don't just "decide" to end it. The fans own it now.
💡 You might also like: Bethany Hamilton and the Shark: What Really Happened That Morning
The technical side of the "Philly Version"
If you’re looking for the specific version to add to your own workout or tailgate playlist, you need to be precise. It isn't the original Robyn version from 2010. While that song is a masterpiece of "sad banger" pop, it doesn't have the driving percussion needed for a stadium.
You also aren't looking for the stripped-back, acoustic version Calum Scott performed on Britain's Got Talent.
You want the Calum Scott - Dancing On My Own (Tiësto Remix).
The Tiësto remix adds a heavy 4/4 beat and a soaring electronic build-up that makes it feel much more like a celebration. It’s that specific "drop" that the Phillies players use to time their beer pours and clubhouse dances.
Why it works (even when it shouldn't)
Sports psychologists often talk about "shared identity" in fan bases. A song like this acts as a social lubricant. It levels the playing field between the guy in the executive suite and the guy in the nosebleeds.
- Emotional Contrast: The high of winning mixed with the "sad" lyrics creates a unique bittersweet tension.
- The Underdog Narrative: Philadelphia fans love feeling like they are "on their own" against the rest of the league.
- Simplicity: The chorus is incredibly easy to sing even after three stadium beers.
Kinda crazy, right? A song about loneliness bringing millions of people together.
How to experience the "Dancing On My Own" culture
If you’re heading to Philadelphia or just want to lean into the Phillies' postseason energy, there are a few ways to do it right. Honestly, just blasting the song in your car isn't enough. You have to understand the context.
📖 Related: Simona Halep and the Reality of Tennis Player Breast Reduction
1. Hit the Xfinity Live! complex
If the Phillies are in the playoffs, this is ground zero. After a win, the DJ will play the remix on a loop. It’s chaotic. It’s loud. You will probably get beer on your shoes. It’s the closest you can get to the clubhouse vibe without being on the 40-man roster.
2. Watch the Garrett Stubbs "Playlist"
The backup catcher is the heart of this. Keep an eye on his Instagram or the Phillies' official social feeds during clinch celebrations. The way they use the song to choreograph their celebrations—usually involving overalls and large amounts of domestic light beer—is what kept the trend alive.
3. Respect the Robyn roots
While the Calum Scott version is the Phillies' song, true pop aficionados know the debt owed to Robyn. If you really want to show your depth, acknowledge that the 2010 original is the foundation of the whole movement.
Actionable steps for the true fan
To truly embrace the dancing on my own phillies spirit, you need to treat the song as more than just a melody; it's a ritual.
- The Timing Matters: Never play the song before a game starts. That’s bad juju. It’s a victory song. Playing it early is the fastest way to invite a ninth-inning blown save.
- The Gear: You'll find "Dancing On My Own" themed Phillies shirts all over South Street or on independent sites like Shibe Vintage Sports. Wearing the gear is basically a secret handshake in this city.
- The Lyrics: Learn the bridge. Everyone knows the chorus, but if you can scream "I’m giving it my all, but I’m not the girl you’re taking home" along with 40,000 other people, you’ve officially passed the vibe check.
The Phillies might eventually find a new song. Trends fade, and players move on to different teams. But for this specific window of Philadelphia baseball history—the era of Harper, Schwarber, and Turner—this song is the DNA of the team. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most powerful traditions are the ones that make the least sense on paper.
Check the local game schedule and if you're in the city during a win, just listen. You'll hear those synths echoing off the skyscrapers. It’s just how Philly celebrates now.
Key Takeaways for Your Next Tailgate
- Version: Specifically the Tiësto Remix of Calum Scott’s cover.
- Context: It represents the "underdog" spirit of the 2022-2024 Phillies rosters.
- Etiquette: It is strictly for post-win celebrations; using it as a walk-up song or pre-game hype is considered a jinx by many die-hard fans.
- Cultural Impact: It has boosted Calum Scott's streaming numbers significantly in the PA/NJ/DE tri-state area, proving the power of sports on the music charts.
Grab a jersey, find a crowded bar, and wait for the "oh oh oh" to hit. There's nothing quite like it.