Facebook stickers by Charles Orr. Mental anguish by Josh McDonnell.
Why even check a box score? The Phillies are now 0-3 after today's 10-6 loss to the Reds, but hey, let's look on the bright side. A win's bound to come up soon. That's just, like, the rules of math.
Wondering what those Phillies have been up to? This morning I paid a visit to some old friends that I hadn't seen in a while, the parts of the internet that still care about the well-being of this city's baseball team - you know, because they're paid to. Between headlines that were all like "Chase is totally fine! Don't even worry about it!" was one that read "Amaro's nephew helps University of Tampa beat Phillies". That's right. A team of fresh-faced college boys led by a young Amaro from Bensalem beat the 2015 Phillies.
My thoughts raced as I clicked from sad news story to sad news story. How is the Amaro bloodline responsible for exhibition losses that even today's Phillies, predicted to be the worst in baseball, are supposed to win? Hold up, Baseball Prospectus. Even worse than the stinkin' Astros? I read that some dude that calls himself Mattress Mack lost 4-million furniture store bucks in a bet last year when the Astros won a rare "more than 63 games".
Is this what we've become? I bet if J-Roll was still here with his crystal ball and cool ego, he'd be all like, "We'll win 80 games. Well, maybe 75." Wait, what's that, ESPN? After spending years, antagonizing New York Mets fans with his swagger, Jimmy was recently caught saying that a future with the Muts would be "pretty bright". Well, he always did look good in shades.
Back to the Phillies. Things start in the Grapefruit League today against the Yankees. In reality, spring training doesn't matter too much. The Phillies are probably delaying what baseball statisticians and fans alike see as the inevitable. I'm just happy that baseball is being played, and as people say, anything can happen. A chain-smoking Tony Danza once brought the Anaheim Angels a pennant title, and the University of Tampa beat a major-league ball club just two days ago.
The future of the Phillies may not be as bright as J-Roll's, but I'm doing my best to get through my baseball seasonal affective disorder through some good old-fashioned writing about my feelings. I implore you all to do the same to get through this winter of bleak predictions. Until then, I apologize for not having posted since Cliff Lee's arm thawed out last year and leave you with an Instagram photo I took at the ballpark this summer, appropriately hashtagged #philliesneorealism:
Now, let's root, root, root for the Phillies and that Mattress Mack makes a bet against our future sometime soon.
What a long, strange break it's been. Polar vortex after polar vortex after polar vortex. Even when you looked to baseball for refuge from your winter malaise, the Phillies were plagued by infectious diseases and bad vibes. Luckily, Freddy Galvis is recovering from that MRSA infection and the Phillies haven't traded the untradable J-Roll just yet. But seriously, folks, it's been terrible. Some "I Love the Phillies" page on Facebook has been trying to sell me a "This Team Makes Me Drink" tee for weeks because, "it's easier to get through some innings with a cold beverage or 2... or 12!"
Let's take a step back from the past few months, ignore that Cliff Lee couldn't fire a hot dog gun last week, and crank up the Ted Nugent. Seriously, do it. It helps.
What's that? The clouds have parted. The sun is shining. The Phanatic's pelvic thrusting on top of the Rangers' dugout. Clifton Phifer Lee is running in slow motion toward the mound. Franzke and LA are providing background to your daily life again. Baseball's back. There's even a lineup to prove it.
Tastykake, of course we didn't forget! How could we? In honor of your 100th birthday, we thought we'd take it back to a simpler time for Phillies fans, a time when the team showed promise and the city spent its nights singing Frank Stallone tunes around burning trashcans. It's better to live in an idealized past than eat your weight in Butterscotch Krimpets while worrying about the future.
In the 1970s, home run hitters were fueled by Jelly Krimpets...
Pennants were raised by Kandy Kake gnomes...
Women played baseball...
...and the only Hall of Fame that mattered was one that everyone agreed on.
From the inside pages of old Phillies yearbooks and our hearts to yours!
Phillies fans have been tuning out the television broadcasters in favor of the radio guys for years. There's even a movement to get Franzke and LA on the boob tube. I don't know about you, but I can't picture either hamming it up with Gregg Murphy reporting from no man's land or Captain Obvious, T-Mac. Plus, Todd Zolecki's reporting that they're staying put on the AM/FM waves.
Who will replace Wheels and Sarge? Will they bring in a woman? Will she know her stuff? What will happen to the Sarge Said What? Twitter account? Tune in this season to find out, or just keep the radio on.
While the debate rages on as to whether today is "the most depressing day of the year", it certainly feels like it. I'm probably as bummed and irritable as those old dudes that pregamed Saturday's Eagles loss in a hot tub with a bottle of Wild Turkey - you know, the season finale that made Nick Foles and an entire city yelp, "I'm hurting inside right now in my heart".
That Philadelphia feeling. It's so familiar.
If I'm lucky, I won't have to drain a hot tub full of tears and broken dreams later tonight. Hell, on the other hand, is set to freeze over as tomorrow's low temperatures may break some records. This is Philadelphia though, so why not root, root, root for the cold and bank on the opposite happening?
Bill Veeck once said that, "There are only two seasons - winter and baseball." Maybe that's a good thing in light of 2013 for the Phillies. Everyone needs time to recover and get back on track, next season's team of grumpy old men included. As for me, I've been looking to baseball past and trying not to take things too seriously in the new year.
Enter Curt Schilling of the 1989 Orioles/the Christmas gift that keeps on giving:
Let's look at the line: 9.82 ERA, 15 IP, 16 ER, 10 BB, 4 K, 1 CS (Curt Stache)
Things didn't turn out so bad for Schill. He eventually traded in the stache for a mullet and a place in Philadelphia's hearts. He led the Phillies to upset the Braves in the '93 NLCS, earned himself Most Valuable Player honors, and prevented heartbreak for one more day by tossing a five-hit shutout in Game 5 of the World Series against Toronto. He even won three World Series on some other teams as an old man years later.
A lot of us may be hurting inside right now in our hearts because we'll be forced to contemplate the future of the Phillies soon. Perhaps the best way to pregame the 2014 season is drunk in a hot tub. I'm sure that's how the '93 Phillies would do it. Plus, it's not actually sad until the game's over.
We interrupt your regularly scheduled baseball-less October in Philadelphia to bring you a brief history of the Jolly Roger. No, not the Jolly Rogers, the midwest's favorite pirate-themed Renaissance folk group with such hits as "Beer, Beer, Beer" and "Your Pirate Dad" (though I'm sure most Yinzers and Pittsburgh dads would be into them). The Jolly Roger! That flag Buccos fans raise with a can of IC Light after every win.
While the origins of the term "Jolly Roger" have been lost or are still just hiding from Wikipedia under an X somewhere, two possible explanations are given. The first is that pirates originally used a red flag called "Joli Rouge", meaning "pretty red" in French, but the term was corrupted by English speakers into its more fun form. Another possibility, more in line with the whole skull and crossbones thing, suggests that Jolly Roger comes from the term"Old Roger" for the Devil and probably "pirate flag". According to some old text, "It had in it the Portraiture of Death, with an Hour-Glass in one Hand,
and a Dart in the other, striking into a Heart, and three Drops of
Blood delineated as falling from it. This Flag they called Old Roger, and us'd to say, They would live and die under it."
As for the Pittsburgh Pirates, who have impressively died under it in the regular season for over two decades, the origins of the team's catchphrase "Raise the Jolly Roger!" are less elusive thanks to the aptly titled Pirates blog, Raise the Jolly Roger. Play-by-play announcer, Greg Brown started saying it after Bob Walk told him he needed a good call in the rare chance the Pirates did something great. Brown said that he wanted to party like it was 1909, the year Pittsburgh won its first World Series, "I told him I didn’t want anything silly or meaningless and that maybe if
it involved something related to 'Pirates' that I’d consider it."
The result of Greg Brown's serious desire to celebrate like a pirate: the wonderful "Raise the Jolly Roger!" as well as "Clear the deck, cannonball coming!" every time a Pirate smacks one into the river. (BTW, a big "Cheers to you, matey!" to Pedro Alvarez for breaking up Monday's no-no with that 428-foot cannonball.)
Thanks to to Cutch and the gang finally bringing the Pirates over .500 and into the postseason, "Raise the Jolly Roger!" has really taken off. The Buccos started raising an actual Jolly Roger after every win.The dad rock group, Johnny Angel and the Halos, released a "Raise the Jolly Roger!" song. Even Alex Trebek has been in the know!
Maybe all this pirate-themed excitement is due to the fact that Pittsburgh got to raise the Jolly Roger a rare 97 times this year or that this video plays on the Jumbotron before each home game. Either way, thinking the pirate life's for Scoring Position this October has been a lot more fun than whining about the recent Phillies and hating on squirrels. After all, the Buccos are underdogs with a similarly rich history of being losers. Plus, it's really fun to shout "It's grilled cheese time!" whenever Jason Grilli comes in to close.
Only time will tell if the Buccos will get to raise that Jolly Roger once more in a sea of Cardinal red or if they'll be drowning their postseason sorrows in beer, beer, beer.
The Phillies hosted their first ever Bark in the Park last night. While I'm not opposed to combining great things like baseball and pooches, the fact that the 66-78 Phillies, 15.5 games back in the Wild Card, now host the promotional bring your dog to the ballpark event seems suggestive of something greater - you know, that we're officially a bad team that fewer fans want to watch implode. How long until they're giving out tickets on packets of hot dogs?
You could have come to the groundbreaking realization that the 2013 Phillies are terrible by tuning in to the 8-2 loss to the Padres, most games played in the past two years, or angry WIP callers, but some of us prefer to live in a cloud of hope. I'm just thankful that there are K-9 specific areas at CBP. Really terrible teams like the Marlins let 'em roam around the entire place, which I imagine is fun to watch given the dancing marlins on that neon fountain in the outfield. High hopes! Phillies fans should also find solace in things not being as bad as the minors. Camden Riversharks games are often reduced to people chanting "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!" at opposing batters since strikeouts equal free slices at select locations of some pizza shop in Jersey. Be happy that we're not there yet. High hopes!
Even with the new awesome opportunity to be covered in dogs at Phillies games this year, the boys in red pinstripes have been Ruf to watch (to make the same joke that Gregg Murphy has been waiting his entire life to make). Still, bigger questions for the future remain. Where do the Phillies go from here? Is it nowhere but up? Are there more promotional events in our future? Is this the beginning or end of the dog days of Phillies baseball?
Looking up "dog days", the phrase dates back to the ancient Romans and according to some old book, was believed to be an evil time in which "the Sea boiled, the
Wine turned sour, Dogs grew mad, and all other creatures became
languid; causing to man, among other diseases, burning fevers,
hysterics, and phrensies."
The soothsayer to my left shouted reassuringly in the bottom of the eighth. Arms raised toward the heavens, he told all of Section 113 within earshot, "May 19th is one of the most important days in Philadelphia's history! I was born 49 years ago today! The Flyers won the Stanley Cup in '74! Now the Phillies will come back in improbable fashion! May 19th! May 19th!"
Were these high hopes communicated through the spirit of Harry Kalas or too many birthday beers?
It seemed so improbable! Down 0-2, the game had moved at a doodle-ice-cream-cones-into-the-boxes-of-your-scorecard pace. Dubious skies loomed overheard all afternoon while the Phillies played under the lights. Some crazy guy accosted me in the City Hall tunnel to the Broad Street line on the way to the game, howling, "THE PHILLIES SUCK!!! PHILLIES FANS ARE HORRIBLE!!! AARRRGGGGGHHHH!!! THE PHILLIES ARE THE WORST FRANCHISE!!! THE WORST FRANCHISE EVER!!!"
Chase Utley smacked a two-out single to score Ben Revere and bring the Phillies within one in the bottom of the eighth. Double high fives all around! The relief provided actual relief, and then when the going got weird, the pros turned weirder.
I've spent all day trying to comprehend yesterday's events. Why did Cliff Lee do that? How many times have seven and eight hole hitters gone back-to-back with solo shots for a walk-off win? Who would have predicted that Erick Kratz and Freddy Galvis would be the ones to do it? Against "fire-throwing Aroldis Chapman"?
I still can't wrap my head around it, but two things are clear. Baseball's great, and I'm glad that some rally-cap wearing middle-aged dude was born.
Ryan Howard, I'll never get over you. It was a chug a tear salted Kenzinger and storm out of the bar type of breakup. Real ugly. The following months were spent off the grid, terrified of running into anything that might remind me of that season-ending moment. And just when I thought I was done caring after a year and a half of cursing your at bats, you did something wonderful that made me forget about all the bad times and think, "Now that is the Ryan Howard I fell in love with!"
Of course I'm talking about that extra innings hit last Sunday against the D-Bags that led the Phillies to a 4-2 win and an astounding 18-21 record. Look out, NL East! And I wasn't the only one swooning. Check out the post-game recap:
It didn’t matter that Howard had been hitless in his previous 18
at-bats, striking out in half of those. No matter that he was facing a
pitcher who hadn’t given up a run all season, either. With the game on the line, few players are better than the Phillies’ bashing first baseman.
That seventh inning tie-breaking hit that led to a sweep of the Muts two weeks ago wasn't too shabby either. Still, great Howard moments are often overlooked in the minds of Phils fans because they remain embedded in this context of polarizing plate behavior. For every clutch "get me to the plate, boys" moment, there's a third swing and a miss that feels like heartbreak. For every grand salami, a golden sombrero. It's what makes it all too easy for Phils fans to love or hate the Big Piece. It's also what gives lovers and haters alike the awful feeling of being stood up for a date whenever Howard doesn't come through.
Okay, okay. I just have a lot of feelings. But even though Howard's had his ups and downs, when he's good, he's good. This one's for you, big guy:
Up first to be honored in Scoring Position's Hall of Fame for Good Phillies Dudes is the dandiest little glove man to ever play the game. The scrappy midfielder with the heart of gold and the glove that never got the Midas touch. The little guy that led the 1993 Phillies World Series lineup with a regular season batting average of a whopping .247. THE GREAT MORANDINI!
Let's observe a moment of silence for Mickey Morandini. Feel free to meditate on the following:
That sweet unassisted triple play he turned against the Pittsburgh Pirates in '92. With Andy Van Slyke on second and a slimmer Barry Bonds on first, Mickey caught Jeff King's line drive, stepped on second, and then tagged out Bonds. Relive the glory of Mickey becoming the first second baseman in NL history to nail a defensive hat trick here. Of course the Phillies went on to lose in extra innings, but all's not fair in love and baseball. Cue Roxette's "It Must Have Been Love". But was it over then?
Mickey Morandini earned the nickname "Dandy Little Glove Man" for a reason. Mickey Hands finished in the top two for his position in fielding percentage five times in his career and was even voted to the All-Star team in 1995. Despite this fact, Mickey never won a Gold Glove over other stand-up ballplayers like Jose Lind. Poor Mickey. Hey. Hey. Poor Mickey. Still, what a dude!
So the next time you slide on your mitt for your neighborhood's softball team, think about Mickey the Great Morandini. Think about unrequited love and your own shortcomings, and then think about Mickey turning a double play dressed as a member of All-4-One. Believe you me, Scoring Position's not the only one to want Mickey on their team. Check out this great audio interview on Jimmy Scott's High and Tight in which Mickey says, "At heart, I'm a Philly guy," while smooth saxophones play over crashing waves.
This might be the most love Morandini's gotten since '98. And he runs a stationary store with his wife, Peg!
Like any good lapsed Catholic that now practices in the Church of baseball, the topic of morality in professional sports has been on my brain since they didn't let those beefcakes party at Cooperstown last month.
Juiced up monsters blasting homers aren't what Abner Doubleday intended when he might have been sitting in a cow pasture inventing baseball in 1839. Hoop-and-stick can only be so fun. Running down baseballs after every over-muscled man hits 'em into no man's land would have been less fun.
Every era is embedded in a specific cultural time that plays by and makes its own rules. Spitballs were legal until "the owners greedily sold out to home runs." That's according to Ty Cobb, anyway - you know, that guy with the highest career batting average of all time that should be in the Hall of Fame for violent, racist sociopaths. Instead, he lives on in Cooperstown alongside some of the greatest assholes to pick up a bat. But, man, could they hit!
Is integrity to the game more important than integrity itself? Mind you, that's a game that banned black athletes from playing until 1947. (Here's to you, Mr. Robinson. Happy Belated!) Still, potentially changing the game via gambling or betting seems to rank highest among baseball's mortal sins. Throwing illegal pitches fall into the venial because while a tossing a gooball's still a no-no, it doesn't kill the buzz of a good home run derby or Roger Clemens's comeback (No, I'm not talking the Sugar Land Skeeters). Doesn't it make you wonder how the Ten Commandments of baseball would read?
That brings me to Chooch whose penance is the first 25 games of the season after testing positive for Adderall. I know! Not our Chooch! I don't want to think about it either. I want to think about Game 3 of the 2008 World Series and Roy Halladay falling asleep next to his Chooch pillow in the off-season and Chooch catching R.A. Dickey in a mitt half his size in last year's All-Star game. Let's tune out the fact that he tested positive for an amphetamine the same year that he led the MLB in hitting. Is the only redeeming thing about the 2012 Phillies a sham?
Relax. Put on a Phil Collins record and reread that SI article "Brotherly Glove". It'll make you feel better.
While Adderall's no Andro and Chooch's no juicer, the incident raises a number of interesting questions for baseball's future. What's worse, bulking up or improving focus, if the improvement in performance is the result of a drug? Will cognitive stimulants be the next generation of drugs that keep players out of the Hall of Fame? Is performance enhancement a part of modern day baseball culture that society just needs to accept? The fact that close to 10% of MLB players have ADHD diagnoses must be hinting at something. They can't all be chasing their shadows in the outfield.
Still, the bigger question remains. Why do crimes against sports seem like they're worse than crimes against society?
My brain hurts. Maybe I'm still hungover from eating a stadium made out of deli meats and Cheetos on Super Bowl Sunday. I've heard that Ray Lewis may have murdered some people, but the Ravens won the Super Bowl, so I guess we should let him pass. I mean, tackle. But what do I know? I'm a woman! We're underrepresented when it comes to Hall of Fame votes, and until Betty Spaghetti has a place in the Hall, I'm boycotting!
This February Nadine and I will be paying homage to good dudes from the Phillies past that never made it to Cooperstown. Wait, what's that? The city already has its own Hall of Fame and they even voted in Mike Piazza? Eh, fuck it. We're doing it anyway. Consistent with the standards put forth by the Baseball Hall of Fame, voting will be based on going with one's gut.
Leave all real talk about baseball's past, present, and future as well as which Phillies deserve a Billy Ray Valentine's Day card this February in the comments.
I've been thinking in numbers for months now. How many games would the Phillies have to win and the rest of the National League have to lose to make the dream of a wild card less impossible?
Thanks to the Marlins gettin' 'dricked last night (along with errbody that has faced "Ace 38" lately), the Phillies are now five games back from that one-game wild card showdown at dusk. They've improved to 70-71 after taking 13 of the last 17 and winning their last five.
What's next, you ask? Two more games against Nadine's ex-boyfriend Greg Dobbs and the Tired of Fightin' Fish, a four-game series with the already eliminated Astros, and three games versus the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad Muts. Then, it's make-or-break, baby, with the Braves at home. Well, maybe. I'm so excited. I'm so excited. I'm so scared.
While the Phillies have no room for error with a current 1.5 percent chance of making the playoffs, that old Phillies magic has been in the air lately. I sang "High Hopes" in the ballpark twice on Sunday. The doubleheader sweep of the Rockies included both a classic John Mayberry Jr. walk-off and the return of Chooch that, with the help of Phil Collins and his 2-for-2 bat, kept an entire stadium on its feet. One more round of beers, please. High fives all around. How could you not get a little high on Phillies hope? Even Scott Franzke was made a believer during last night's radio broadcast, saying to a hopeful LA, "Well, they've not been mathematically eliminated."
It's not over until it is, or something like that. I'm just happy that the Phillies are one away from being at .500 for the first time since June 4. All they need is:
Too little, too late, or is it? Ain't that what baseball's all about?
What do you call it when your heart gets broken three times in one night? In this town, usually May or October.
Philadelphia sports radio sounds like a crisis hotline right now with hints of Delilah After Dark. It's heartbroken caller after caller trying to piece together what went wrong. If only WIP could play Mr. Mister's "Broken Wings" for Gerry from Mount Laurel who's still not over Bryz scoring on himself or for poor Joe Blanton. :(=
Who's on your heart today? The Flyers? The Phillies? The 10 points in a quarter-9-8-76ers?
I still can't believe how ugly and well staggered the upsets were. There was no way out of not getting kicked repeatedly mob-style after the Flyers came up short. Change the channel. The Phillies are up 4-1 against the Mets and blow the lead after throwing the ball around the entire field like a bunch of Little Leaguers. Change the channel. The Sixers don't seal the deal in a game that's best summed up by some dude over at the 700 levelas one in which "it seems like it's actually both teams that are losing but your team's losing the most."
While the Flyers have been asleep for weeks and hopes weren't high for the Sixers to begin with, the Phillies have been taking a toll on my heart since the beginning of April. Outside of their general lack of consistent offense and defense, the Phillies even managed to taint some of this season's best moments. They couldn't come through for Cliff Lee after he tossed ten shutout innings or for Chooch after he heard Doc calling in the air tonight and responded with seven RBIs.
I know I'm not the only one sad enough to dial Delilah on account of bad baseball. Nadine's been too bummed to blog since Ryan Howard fell over. Still, the same thoughts are relevant now: Did we do this to ourselves? Did we break our own hearts? And why are we going to do it again next year?
I don't know, but listening to songs about love, especially love lost, helps.
Everybody plays the fool sometimes, and more often than not in Philadelphia. I guess it just comes with the territory.
The Phillies have finished April second to last in the NL East after going splitsies with the always terrible Chicago Cubs. They are under .500 for the first time since 2007. The losses that comprise their 11-12 record have been described as "morning-after-St.-Patrick's-Day ugly" and have inspired such existential work as "The Phillies' Mediocrity Unique in Readjusted Reality." It's been hard to watch, and even harder to watch without the TV on mute. I don't know how many times I've yelled at Wheels through the TV to, "Just drop it already!" Seriously! What a Negative Nance!
If the lyrics of "High Hopes" have taught me anything, it's that ants, in fact, can move rubber tree plants as long as they're upbeat ants. Sure, it's been an ugly April, but it all hasn't been ugly. Has it? Let's talk positives.
Here's a list of a few things outside of the usual aces that have kept me afloat as a Phillies fan in the Great Depression:
Joe Blanton: It's not just that I can imagine him literally floating in a doughnut tube that's strawberry frosted with sprinkles, Blanton's looked good lately. In his last game against the Cubs, he struck out eight, walked none, and instilled confidence in many. Let's hope that the Happy Joe Blanton emoticon comes out more often than not this year and that Joe gets the second home run of his career sometime soon. :)=
Juan Pierre: It's taken me a while to come around to Juan Pierre, but it's hard to argue against a player that's consistently getting on base when the Phillies need base runners. Sure, they're consistently singles, but they're something. Plus, based on how many times Dolis threw back to first and didn't get Pierre last night, I think he's becoming a little smarter on the base path.
Wigginton-Nix: Okay, so these dudes look like they could show up, beer can in hand, ready to hit it into the next field for your neighborhood bar's softball team. While it's still too early in the season to say whether or not they'll prove more successful than "Buckingham Nicks" as an album or romantic relationship, they have been two of the most productive offensive players on the Phillies to date. You read that right.
Jonathan Papelbon: Like him or hate his alter ego, Papelbon is now tied for the most saves in the National League with Craig Kimbrel of the Braves at eight. While I can't help but cringe every time T-Mac refers to Paps as "Cinco Ocho", I am constantly wowed by the man. This has led to the development of two alternative things to chant after Paps closes a game out: "Papelbon! Papelbon! Papelbon!" inspired by Seinfeld's Izzy Mandelbaum, and "Fuck that shit! Paps Blue Ribbon!" inspired by this scene from Blue Velvet and the fact that it's just damn fun to shout. Try it after number nine!
Freddy Galvis: While he's been great in the field so far, he's struggled with his at bats, mainly because he's young, new to the majors, and still likes swinging at the high ones. Still, if there's any reason to watch the Phillies right now, it's for Freddy Galvis. He's likeable and you want him to succeed. This attitude is best summed up here in which rooting for Galvis is compared to rooting for Squints at the swimming pool. "You put logic aside and yell like hell, even if you think he is out of his league."
Dollar dogs: They still exist! Phew!
Franzke and LA: If T-Mac and Wheels get you more down than the Phillies' lack of hits, just turn on the radio. 1210 on the AM dial's just a few seconds off the TV broadcast. Don't believe it's worth it? Check out this gem!
The Flyers: If the Phillies have got you so down you can't even find solace in listening to LA and Franzke, take a break from the Phillies. Watch some hockey. The last series between the Flyers and Penguins was described as "Yankees-Red Sox, on Ice" and proved to be way more exciting.
Chooch: Chooch just being Chooch always makes it all okay. He's come through big time when the Phillies have needed him most both at and behind the plate. Outside of his two RBIs last night, he had a three RBI, one homer performance on Saturday. Score one for the regulars! Plus, look at how adorable he looks in this suit.
While it doesn't feel like any of the Phillies' awkward parts currently make sense together, I still have high hopes that Cholly-San will figure out a lineup that works. Plus, it has to only be up from here for the Phillies' more likely heroes- J-Roll, Polly, Pence, and even that Flyin' Hawaiin.
It's best not to take it all too seriously. Who would have predicted that the 2008 team would have brought Philadelphia its second World Series? What about the inversely proportional relationship between the Phillies' regular season performance and how far they made it in the playoffs since then? Who knows what's going to happen next? It's too early to tune out.
Someone once told me that if you are born in Philadelphia, you will most likely die here. While I'm not sure if statistics can actually prove this, the thought of dying in Philadelphia led me to compile a list of things to do here before I die, a "Fuck it!" list. While I was actually born in Waterbury, CT, my visiting friends that were born in and will most likely die in Waterbury have described Philly as "Waterbury South" and "just a better Waterbury". Plus, I don't feel like I'm leaving any time soon.
So far, I've checked off a number of things on the list, none of which involve running up the Rocky steps or braving the lines at Pat's or Geno's - although, I've accidentally (drunkenly) done the latter in the past year. Twice.
While that first Sixers game I went to ended in over 100 points for Philly and free Big Macs for all, it will never beat my bike ride from my apartment in West Philly to Harry Kalas's grave site in Laurel Hill Cemetery. It wasn't the anniversary of HK's call of Matt Stairs' moon shot or the day the Phillies won the World Series. It was just a perfect kind of Sunday morning and the Phillies would be on later.
My favorite thing in the Harry Kalas Museum Exhibit, which is just one tiny room in a rickety house at the cemetery's entrance, was a Celebre's pizza box. Next to it was its story which is best summed up here in the speech HK gave when he was inducted into the Hall of Fame:
This is the ultimate honor in a game that I have loved since I was 10 years old thanks to Mickey Vernon. It’s very special to be inducted with the most acrobatic shortstop I ever saw play this beautiful game, Ozzie Smith, and the legendary Joe Falls from the Motor City. I now join my two partners with whom I worked when I first came to Philadelphia in 1971, By Saam and Richie Ashburn.
People ask me what it was like working with Richie. His Whiteness and I were together for 27 years, and it was such a joy. He not only brought to the booth baseball expertise, but also laughter. Whitey had a marvelous sense of humor. I remember doing games with him, and it would be getting late in the game, late in the evening, and Whitey would say on the air, “I wonder if the people at Celebre's Pizza are listening tonight?” Well, within 15 minutes, bang, pizzas are delivered to the radio booth.
This went on for a little while, and pretty soon Phillies management called him in, and they said, “Richie, Celebre's Pizza is not one of our sponsors. We can’t be giving them free plugs.” Now, we do do birthday and anniversary announcements on the air. So shortly after his meeting with the Philadelphia brass, it’s getting late again in the evening, and he’s getting hungry, he said. “Well, I have very special birthday wishes to send out tonight to the Celebre's twins, plain and pepperoni.”
I want to thank the Phillies for their undying support for the last 32 years. Especially to Bill Giles, who brought me to Philadelphia in 1971, the best professional move I ever made. To the players, coaches and managers over the years, one of the many beauties of this game is no matter how long you’ve been in it, you learn more about it every year, every day. Every year I see things on the field that I’ve never seen before. A feel for the game was learned from so many men in uniform I could not possibly name them all. But you know who you are, and I love you.
To the members of the media who have been so supportive over the years — my colleagues, the beat writers and columnists, the radio/TV productions staff and crews across the USA. To the scouts and general managers over the years who have shared their baseball knowledge and experience in hundreds of press rooms across America.
The love of my life, my wife, Eileen. My sons Todd, Brad and Kane. My stepdaughter, Kiki, my stepson, Travis, my stepgrandson, Cole. My brother, Jim, and his wife, Mary, and my nieces and nephews. Families sacrifice when their man is a baseball man. For seven months a year, we spend more time with our team than we do with our families. I thank you for being so understanding and supportive.
We come here to Cooperstown to laud our baseball heroes each year. But all of us laud America’s heroes from all walks of life whose selflessness is on display daily. Those that lay their lives on the line for our safety, you are in our hearts. There are some loved ones in heaven looking down on us today. Mom, Dad, Celia, Byrum, Whitey, Ray Shore, Art Perkins, Mike Capredo, I thank you. And to the most passionate sports fans in America, the Philadelphia fans. I have written a brief poem to you beautiful fans.
This is to the Philadelphia fan.
To laud your passion as best I can.
Your loyalty is unsurpassed.Be the Fightins in first or last.
We come to the park each day,looking forward to another fray.
Because we know you’ll be there,we know you really care.
You give the opposing pitcher fitsbecause as one loyalist shouts, everybody hits.
To be sure in Philly, there might be some boos.Because you passionate fans, like the manager, hate to lose.
Your reaction to the action on the field that you impart,spurs as broadcasters to call the game with enthusiasm and heart.
We feel your passion through and through.
Philadelphia fans, I love you.
And thank you all for sharing in a day that I will never forget. I love you. Thank you.
What a class act. Even though Harry Kalas passed away three years ago today, it's the retold stories, like that one about the pizza twins or where you
heard that final out of the World Series called, that will keep this city
thinking about him until the end. Thanks for all of the memories, HK.
I was wide awake at 5:30 this morning. I jumped out of bed, ran downstairs, and frantically began clicking through site after site hoping to find today's lineup somewhere. No cigar. All Uncle Cholly has revealed to the press - you know, the sports bloggers that matter, is the following:
"We've got a lineup. We have a left fielder, a first baseman, a second baseman, a catcher."
Today's lineup against the Pirates doesn't really matter all that much. It'll probably be John Mayberry Jr. or Ty Wiggington at first, Freddy Galvis (or is it Galveeees?) at second, and either Juan Pierre or Layce Nix in left field if Mayberry's at first. One thing that's certain outside of the Whos, Whats, and I Don't Knows is that Doc will return to the bump at 1:35 PM.
I'm just glad that the part of my brain that gave me fuzzy, nervous Christmas morning feelings as a seven-year-old still works. Baseball's so much easier to believe in.
Baseball's back! In an exhibition game yesterday, the Phillies beat the Florida State Seminoles 6-1. The game was tied until the seventh inning which started with back-to-back hits by Pete Orr and Eric Kratz. Other highlights of the game included the first hit of the season for the Phillies by some dude named Tuffy Gosewisch, Hector Luna's two-run blast, and eight scoreless innings pitched by young arms hoping for AAA date cards. From the regular guys, Hunter Pence chimed in with a double in the fourth inning and Domonic Brown hit Big Truck's big truck during batting practice earlier in the day.
I know, I know. Exhibition games against college teams don't really matter to anyone outside of that young or old pitcher given a shot at the majors and the 2009 Manatee Community College baseball team that beat the Pittsburgh Pirates 6-4. I'm just happy to read a fresh box score.
Tune in this Saturday as the Phillies take on the Yankees who once played an exhibition game against my own hometown's heroes, the 1947 Waterbury Timers. It won't be '47 Phil Rizzuto, Yogi Berra, and Joltin' Joe or the '09 Manatees against Cole and the Gang, but it'll still be a good sneak peek of baseball to come!
Any predictions on who will be the team to beat in 2012? Greg Dobbs has already done J-Roll's whole "we're the team to beat" schtick which I'm pretty sure won't work twice. Leave it in the comments!
It's Valentine's Day. Unfortunately, not everyone's going to be receiving a Chooch valentine this year. But, hey, that's okay. Philadelphia's a land of underdogs that have been known to come back approximately two out of every three times according to the movies.
That's good news for J-Roll's pal and new Phillies reliever, Dontrelle Willis. 2003's Rookie of the Year is coming off a 1-6 season with the Reds and a 5.00 ERA. Still, D-Train was pretty good against southpaw hitters in 2011, and is another pitcher that can hit! Let's just hope that he's feeling strong now. Word is he's been down in Clearwater for weeks. Don't be another "bum from the neighborhood" this year. When life gets you down, be like Dontrelle Willis and the city of Philadelphia.... start a soul train.
The sky is the limit and I know that you can have what you want, be what you want
Happy Valentine's Day from the ladies of Scoring Position!
The Nationals want to take back Citizen's Bank Park South.
Outside of the slow attempt to turn the Nationals into a "legitimate contender"/the World Fuckin' Champions of '08 (Matt Stairs, Jayson Werth, Brad Lidge, and now Chad Durbin to a minor league contract!?!), the Nationals recently launched the "Take Back the Park" campaign in an attempt to draw in as many Nationals fans as possible by restricting ticket pre-sales to their first home series against the Phils only to residents of Maryland, DC, or Virginia. Sorry, Bob Casey and everyone else in the lovely state that you represent!
Strangely enough, I first heard about the "Take Back the Park" campaign last week while at a bioethics talk titled, "Toward a 'Science' of Torture?". While the talk was about interrogation methods designed by the C.I.A. and not the psychology behind being a Nationals fan, I couldn't help but think about the Nationals every time the term "learned helplessness" was thrown around - you know, the psychological state where people feel powerless to change their situation. It didn't help that the nerdy-looking academic leading the discussion on "torture" was wearing a Phillies cap with his suit and walked in chanting "Let's go Phillies" to himself before telling the entire room about "Take Back the Park". In fact, one of the last things he said before the talk began, probably to make the room aware of his qualifications, was something along the lines of, "Well, guess what, Nationals? I am both a lifelong Phillies fan and live in DC! I'll just buy all the tickets!"
The room was silent. I looked around. I was the only person listening, let alone smiling.
While there's no need to fear that there will be a lack of Phillies fans torturing Nationals fans at this series due in large part, to this guy beating the system, it still makes you wonder if the rivalry the Nationals are trying to stir up makes any sense - that is, unless the Phillies inexplicably can't win a World Series 86 years after trading away Jayson Werth.
But, seriously, Nats, why not invest in continuing to keep your rivalry with the Orioles alive instead? If anyone needs a reason to love baseball right now, it's people from Baltimore. Plus, the Orioles-Nationals rivalry is much more well-founded. There's the annual "Beltway Series", a history of drama over the Baltimore-Washington baseball market, and the controversy over shouting O! during the national anthem.
Let's not forget the rich history of the Washington Nationals that goes all the way back to 2005. While a lot's changed since Ryan Zimmerman joined a team of displaced Canadians in our country's capital (I'm talkin' about the Expos, but this sweet picture of Pete Orr as a Natty beau seems relevant), it doesn't really compare to the history of Phillies. The Whiz kids! The Vet! The sweet memory of what bar you were in and who you high fived that fateful night in 2008! I've only been in this city for six years, and the history of baseball is somehow now intertwined with my own personal history. I'm not sure you could say the same for most Nationals fans.
Perhaps, a better question than, "Why the Phillies, Nationals?" or, "Seriously?!?" is, "What Phillies team of the past would provide a more even match-up?" After all, if anyone knows about "learned helplessness", it's Phillies fans. This probably explains why Nationals fans are being hazed to begin with.
My thoughts raced as I clicked from sad news story to sad news story. How is the Amaro bloodline responsible for exhibition losses that even today's Phillies, predicted to be the worst in baseball, are supposed to win? Hold up, Baseball Prospectus. Even worse than the stinkin' Astros? I read that some dude that calls himself Mattress Mack lost 4-million furniture store bucks in a bet last year when the Astros won a rare "more than 63 games".
Of course I'm talking about that extra innings hit last Sunday against the D-Bags that led the Phillies to a 4-2 win and an astounding 18-21 record. Look out, NL East! And I wasn't the only one swooning. Check out the post-game recap:
Up first to be honored in Scoring Position's Hall of Fame for Good Phillies Dudes is the dandiest little glove man to ever play the game. The scrappy midfielder with the heart of gold and the glove that never got the Midas touch. The little guy that led the 1993 Phillies World Series lineup with a regular season batting average of a whopping .247. THE GREAT MORANDINI!
Every era is embedded in a specific cultural time that plays by and makes its own rules. Spitballs were legal until "the owners greedily sold out to home runs." That's according to Ty Cobb, anyway - you know, that guy with the highest career batting average of all time that should be in the Hall of Fame for violent, racist sociopaths. Instead, he lives on in Cooperstown alongside some of the greatest assholes to pick up a bat. But, man, could they hit!
Relax. Put on a Phil Collins record and reread that SI article "Brotherly Glove". It'll make you feel better.
I've been thinking in numbers for months now. How many games would the Phillies have to win and the rest of the National League have to lose to make the dream of a wild card less impossible?
I still can't believe how ugly and well staggered the upsets were. There was no way out of not getting kicked repeatedly mob-style after the Flyers came up short. Change the channel. The Phillies are up 4-1 against the Mets and blow the lead after throwing the ball around the entire field like a bunch of Little Leaguers. Change the channel. The Sixers don't seal the deal in a game that's best summed up by some dude over at the 700 level as one in which "it seems like it's actually both teams that are losing but your team's losing the most."
of which involve running up the Rocky steps or braving the lines at Pat's or Geno's - although, I've accidentally (drunkenly) done the latter in the past year. Twice.
Baseball's back! In an exhibition game yesterday, the Phillies beat the Florida State Seminoles 6-1. The game was tied until the seventh inning which started with back-to-back hits by Pete Orr and Eric Kratz. Other highlights of the game included the first hit of the season for the Phillies by some dude named Tuffy Gosewisch, Hector Luna's two-run blast, and eight scoreless innings pitched by young arms hoping for AAA date cards. From the regular guys, Hunter Pence chimed in with a double in the fourth inning and Domonic Brown hit Big Truck's big truck during batting practice earlier in the day.
Strangely enough, I first heard about the "Take Back the Park" campaign last week while at a bioethics talk titled, "Toward a 'Science' of Torture?". While the talk was about interrogation methods designed by the C.I.A. and not the psychology behind being a Nationals fan, I couldn't help but think about the Nationals every time the term "learned helplessness" was thrown around - you know, the psychological state where people feel powerless to change their situation. It didn't help that the nerdy-looking academic leading the discussion on "torture" was wearing a Phillies cap with his suit and walked in chanting "Let's go Phillies" to himself before telling the entire room about "Take Back the Park". In fact, one of the last things he said before the talk began, probably to make the room aware of his qualifications, was something along the lines of, "Well, guess what, Nationals? I am both a lifelong Phillies fan and live in DC! I'll just buy all the tickets!"
