In 2012 Modern Baseball released Sports, stuff a refreshingly awkward pop-punk record that helped shine a spotlight not only the baby-faced four piece, buy cialis but also on the rapidly expanding Philly scene that they were helping to build.

They then used a simple formula to win over a small but devoted fan base: they played with other good acts, and they played really well. Their music had some nice hooks, they would crack a few jokes on stage, and they never gave off an aura of being better than anyone in the crowd. It was obvious these guys were not the popular kids in high school, and that made them all the more endearing.

They grew more successful and began headlining their own shows, but they still came across as underdogs. They were the type of band that was never going to be that big. They were too self-deprecating, too nerdy, and arguably, too emo. They could have been stars ten years ago, but you assumed all of the kids had moved on – they were stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But if you were at the House of Blues on Thursday night, you realized you were very wrong.

Here they were playing to thousands of fans, and all of those fans were singing along to new songs like they had known them for years. There was a line at their merch table that stretched from the front of the house all the way to the back bar before the first band had even stepped on stage. It was official: Modern Baseball had made it.

On stage, they did what you expected them to do – they thanked the crowd profusely, expressed shock over how many people had shown up, told some jokes, and sounded great. In between songs, they read messages that had been submitted to a hotline they set up to help fans feel safe at the show. They had even replaced the Men’s and Women’s sings outside the bathrooms with gender neutral ones. It all made sense – this was a band that was doing everything right.

Credit also goes to the openers for helping to set the tone. Joyce Manor played a long (for them) 45 minute set that delivered everything the crowd wanted from an act that has perfected the two minute melodic punk song. Like Modern Baseball, they are a no-frills four-piece that connects with listeners though honest, often cutting lyrics and an “awe-shucks” stage presence that helped win over anyone not already familiar with them.

Thin Lips, another Philly act, was the first band on stage, and their punk energy and (once again) self-deprecating stage banter helped them grab the crowd’s attention. Front woman Chrissy Tashjian joked that she felt a little strange constantly repeating the band’s name, but she knew everyone would forget it immediately if she didn’t. This is a great example of an opener doing the little things right and setting themselves up for bigger success down the road.

Modern Baseball has traveled that road to success and taken advantage of every stop along the way. They’ve toured with Philly heavyweights like The Wonder Years and The Menzingers, and while they’ve always seemed content being the underdog, the heavyweight title suddenly seems to fit them just fine.