Dog Days of Baseball

Typical Muts fan

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."

I hear that.

Lights Out Lidge

Wednesday, October 29th, 2008. Was it all a dream? Now that Brad Lidge has officially signed a one-year deal with the Washington Nationals, that final knees-to-the-ground, hands-to-the-sky World Series win against the Rays seems like a distant memory.

In his four seasons with the Phillies, Lidge racked up 100 saves, mostly thanks to that perfect 48-for-48 2008. While Lidge is "disappointed" that the Phillies are not keeping him around for another season, it's almost fitting that out of all of Game 5's strange heroes, he's the last to fade from the sandlot, Citizen's Bank Park, after giving Eric Hinske the slider.

Lidge's fate with Jayson Werth on the Phillies South doesn't seem so bad when you look at who else was partially responsible for that Game 5 win. When the game resumed that Wednesday, tied in the bottom of the sixth, Geoff Jenkins set the tone for paradin' with a lead off double, his only hit of the post-season, and was later scored by Werth. The Rays then quickly retied the game in the top of the seventh only to have Pat Burrell lead off the bottom of the seventh with another double. Eric Bruntlett, pinch-running for Pat the Bat, was then scored on a game-winning single by Pedro Feliz.

Where are they now? Pat Burrell went on to play the role of "The Machine" for Brian Wilson. Eric Bruntlett, whose batting average was often announced on a local radio show whenever it was, give or take 10 minutes, around 2:15 P.M. BST (Bruntlett Standard Time), is now kickin' it as a stay-at-home dad. And Pedro Feliz spent last summer across the bridge playing ball for the Camden Riversharks, a team not affiliated with the MLB, but affiliated with a mascot known as Mr. Trash.

As for Lidge, he's earned himself a certain level of respect/free-drinks-until-you-die in Philadelphia because of 2008 - he and the anxiety that so easily forced another round of drinks on an entire city whenever he put runners on base in the ninth only to strike out the last batter with his slider. Even in Game 5, he quickly gave up a single and a stolen base only to "lights out" Hinske. It makes you wonder if Philly losing Lidge will offset the revenue that's expected to be generated from the proposed plan of keeping bars open one hour later to fund the city's schools. No one gave the city agita like Brad Lidge. He kept us nervous, and it made everything more exciting. On that note, I'd like to end with something I jotted down in an old notebook on "October 16, 2009":

I had my first “Lights Out” Lidge shot last night. A glass of Jim Beam slid down the bar and unexpectedly slowed to a stop in front of me. The guy to my right, covered in Phillies red from head to toe, looked deep into my eyes and shouted, “Lights Out Lidge! C’mon, lady!” We hit our glasses on the bar, cheersed, and Brad Lidge successfully closed out Game 1 of the NLCS against the Dodgers.

Brad Lidge, I will think of you every time that nervous knot forms in the pit of my stomach, the one that's only quieted by one more beer or an end of the night shot with some random stranger who works at the airport.

Heroes get remembered, but legends never die.

I Got 99 Problems But a Pitch Ain't One

It looks like I have the Kyle Kendrick ticket package again this season, what would have been the Joe Blanton ticket package if Big Joe wasn't sent to the DL. :(= Now I know what you're thinking, and I once thought it too. If you were me, you'd want to see anyone other than the guy that Joe Blanton beat out to become fifth wheel to the Four Aces. You know, one of those four dudes that appear on those sweet "99 PROBLEMS BUT A PITCH AIN'T ONE" tees sold outside of the stadium. Well, guess what? I've seen some of those guys. I was freezing my butt off when Cole Hamels gave up a quick six runs in his season debut, a 7-1 loss to the Mets. Oh, and that terrible 9-0 loss to the Brewers with Halladay on the mound? That "two-hit atrocity"? I was there. In fact, up until I was recently cursed with tickets to Kendrick games, I was convinced that I was a curse to the Phillies altogether, the jinx whose mere presence could turn an ace into a joker, making pitching problem #100 for Phillies fans everywhere.

So being 0-2 with the Phillies at home with now 9-3 Halladay and 9-2 Hamels, I wasn't thrilled when I found out that my first game at the ballpark with fellow lady of Scoring Position, Nadine, would be one hot date with Kyle Kendrick. Yes, we're talking the same Kyle Kendrick that gave up five quick runs to Old Man Giambi and the Brewers shortly after his World Series ring was found in a Mentos container at the bottom of a swamp, the same Kyle Kendrick that currently has a Facebook page with 260 fans that only seem to comment on how much he blows or spam his wall with quick ways to make $4000/month working from home. Sad, yes. What was sadder was that the night before last Thursday's game with Nadine, I wishfully dreamt that Kyle Kendrick was sent to the DL and Vance Worley would be taking his place on the mound. This was no prophetic dream. (Side note: dream psychology tells me that I dreamt this because I needed to work through a problem. Even Freud proposed that dreams exist to fulfill our wishes to see Vance Worley over Kyle Kendrick. Too bad thinking in reality doesn't work this way. Am I right?)

Kyle Kendrick was to take the mound at 7:05. What were two gals to do? Drink some beer and bank on a stroke of genius, I guess. After throwing back a couple at some 420-themed beer event at the South Philly Tap Room before the game, it finally came to us! We decided that we could either go about our fate like every other Philadelphian and complain about not getting Roy Halladay or Cliff Lee, or we could, for just one day, be Kyle Kendrick's biggest and loudest fans. Maybe the trippy black light posters covering the bar's walls were giving us strange vibes or maybe we had been slipped something, but what was to follow was truly magical.

Kyle Kendrick pitched an awesome three innings, leaving a big fat 0 on the board for the Cubs. Nadine and I even convinced the middle-aged ladies from the Northeast sitting next to us to jump on the Kyle Kendrick bandwagon. Clad in Phillies pink, they became even more obnoxious than us every time Kendrick through a strike. Kyle Kendrick had it together, and I thought my losing streak with the Phillies was finally coming to a close. Cue a montage of Kendrick putting people away to his warm up music, "Been Caught Stealing" by Jane's Addiction:

Is this a reference to catching people on base or the discovery of Kyle's stolen World Series ring?

Then tornado-like winds ripped through the stadium, and after a one hour rain delay, Kyle Kendrick was inexplicably taken out. The Phillies were up 3-0, and Baez was on the mound. Even Nadine and I could not get behind that. What was to follow can only be explained by the workings of a curse. The game dragged on, and the Phillies remained hitless since J-Roll's three-run homer in the second inning. Ryan Madson blew his first save in 15 opportunities. In my mind, this all happened while Nadine and I were dancing and singing to "Don't Stop Believing" with our new gal pals from the Northeast. Charlie even argued his way into getting one of the home runs Madson gave up reversed to turn everything back into a tie game, yet the Phillies still managed to blow it. Herndon was not pinch-hit for with the bases loaded in the 10th. He struck out scared and swinging. Polanco made a rare throwing error at third in the 11th to allow the winning run for the Cubs to score. Was this just bad baseball or the result of a higher power?

I honestly believe that had Kyle Kendrick stayed in that night, the curse would have been lifted. Instead, I had to wait until Kendrick's next start against the Marlins. Watching from the 400 level with six friends, I saw Kendrick throw an amazing seven-inning one-run performance. Someone even started shouting, "You just got 'dricked!" every time Kyle put up a K. The Phillies cruised past the Marlins 8-1. Since that game, the Phillies have won in extra innings on a Chooch walk off, Cliff Lee pitched a two-hit shutout while racking up two hits and an RBI, and Vance Worley has magically returned from the AAA Iron Pigs. Sure, we lost last night, but you can't win them all.

Vance Worley's starting in tonight's game against the Mariners which might make me one of the few that ever had the Kyle Kendrick ticket package at all. Who knows what'll happen to Kendrick now? Maybe he'll split starts with Worley or maybe he'll return to the 'pen as the Phillies' much needed longman. Say what you will about the man, but first let me say this. It's probably the first time these words have ever been put together in the English language.

I am thankful for Kyle Kendrick.

On the Origin of Phillies Fans

The severe storms that have been tearing apart the South for the past few days reached the East Coast today. The South was hit the worst with a reported 164 tornados killing 245 people. Roy Oswalt left the Phillies after Tuesday's game to check on his family and home in Mississippi, just one year after he left the Astros when a tornado ripped through his parents' home. Let's hope that everything's okay at Roy O's home... and that he returns to his second home soon!

As for me, I've been ducking for cover from the thunder, lightning, and occasional monsoon in Philadelphia with some rainy day tunes and a good read. More specifically, I've been listening to the Four Mints (check out "Row My Boat") and rereading my friend Estelle's field report on the Phillies game we went to last week. Estelle's a fan of Scoring Position, a cataloger of all things Charles Darwin, and Swiss. I promised that I would teach her about baseball this year in her quest to become a "real American." Here's her report on our trip to CBP. It's like Darwin wrote it himself:

Journal of researches into the natural habitat of Philadelphia denizens, with observations on their attire and habits at a Tuesday night baseball match. By the Right Honorable Delegate from the Helvetic Communities, Baroness Mlle. M. Pierre Joyet of Chesaux-sur-Lausanne.

Part 1. My companion, the lovely and always pleasant Lady L. Mancuso, of the Waterbury Mancusos, instructed me to acquire the proper attire before the match's start. This feat was easily accomplished as the Green Country Towne of Philadelphia is rife with tailors eager to sell their ready-to-wear cloaks. Mr. Modell accommodated me in my search for the most appropriate shirtwaist. I settled on a bright red cloth, embroidered with an exaltation to one Mr. Clifton Phifer Lee. Mr. Modell assured me that this was a most common practice and that I would indeed blend well into the crowd of more than 40,000 that evening. Donning my newly purchased attire, I was ready to descend into the bowels of the subterranean train system to the southern most tip of the county.

Part 2. Emerging from the Subterranean Eastern Proletariat Train Access -- SEPTA, as the more brutish Philadelphians colorfully call it -- is always a breath-taking experience. Climbing the staircase to the top, Lady Mancuso and I were joined by what seemed like one thousand similarly dressed Philadelphians. Like some sort of ancient Inca ritual, we marched toward the behemoth brick building, which has been recently erected generously by the Citizens Trading Company, as a gift to the Great Towne. The Kind Lady and I were quickly engulfed in a sea of red-clothed sportsfans. For a moment, I was worried that two unchaperoned Ladies would meet a most unfortunate end in such rough waters, but Lady Mancuso once again assured me that we were safe as houses in this jovial crowd. Indeed! I spied many children, running through the crowd, laughing and eating Candy Floss to their hearts content.

Part 3. The hole where the Spectrum Arena used to stand is oddly shocking. It reminds this traveler of the rubble of the Berlin Wall in the days following its fall in late October of the previous century. A chain-link fence surrounds the space, but the stairs to the defunct area remain, beckoning passers-by to stare into its abyss. Some of the more inebriated sports-fans attempted to climb the fence in a futile attempt to, once again, pray at the alter of their great Hockey team. Their efforts were soundly thwarted by the local constabularies, armed with whistles and pointed fingers.

Part 4. Once inside the park, Lady Mancuso proclaimed a great need for Lager. As in most places in the Americas, the ale of choice is a mild, clear Lager, made locally by a Mr. Yuengling and his sons. We quickly found our well appointed seats, which only twenty-seven rows from the field of play! Settling into my chair, I greeted the young boy next to me, who shyly slinked back into the embrace of his Red-Festooned guardian. Salty, roasted peanuts are one of the common treats sold and eaten at such events. Wanting to partake in any local fare, I did not hesitate when a Nut Wench offered a generous bag of these snacks for a mere pittance. As my companion and I sipped our Lagers and degusted the peanuts, the gentlemen players took to the field.

Part 5. The seats on our left were occupied by a decidedly rougher element. Two gentlemen sat down next to the Lady and I only a few minutes after our initial entry. They introduced themselves as “The Musketeer” and “Ron” -- they did not mention from where they hailed; I suspect they were sailors on shore leave. Being moderate gentlemen, they each offered the Lady and I Lager. I followed local custom and accepted the offer, though I never would have done so were my father present! After much revelry, I warmed to their jocular sense of humor and even recounted a funny tale of my own.

Part 6. As far as this, admittedly naive, spectator could tell, there exists no great rivalry between the Philadelphia Phillies and the Milwaukee Brewers, the opposing team on this fine Tuesday evening. The starting pitcher for the night was the much beloved Mr. Harry Leroy "Roy" Halladay III, who hails from the Colorado Territories. His catcher, as the game requires, was the diminutive Mr. Carlos Ruiz. Normally a dramatically winning combination, Messrs. Halladay and Ruiz, and the rest of the Gentlemen Phillies, failed to gain a victory for the home team. The young boy to my right prophesied a 9-0 win for the Brewers. Me thinks this more than a hat trick and the young man should enter the circus as a brilliant deviner, even if he does have Cassandra-like qualities.

This is probably the best thing that has ever come out of being shutout by the Brewers.

The Sound and Soul of Philadelphia

On this day in 1974, "TSOP (The Sound of Philadelphia)" by MFSB featuring the Three Degrees hit No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100—brought to my attention by this A.V. Club article written by my good friend Kate. You know, the theme song from the television show Soul Train that's also played at CBP before the start of every home game? Yeah, this jam:


After reading Kate's description of the tune, it's hard not to draw parallels between Philly soul and our current team of Fightin' Phils:

Though vocals appear on the track twice—The Three Degrees sing “People all over the world!” a few times near the beginning, echoing “Love Train,” and then chorus “Let’s get it on/It’s time to get down” during the fadeout—the focus is clearly on the instruments, which is exactly what made Philly soul special. The lack of a standard frontman crooning in the spotlight was a microcosm of the scene at the time—its strength was cooperation and collaboration.

While mathematics predicts that we will have one of the best four-man pitching rotations in MLB history :(=, recent history suggests that "Chooooooooch is clutch," and my memory tells me that Ryan Howard looks awesome in these goggles, it's difficult to come up with a "standard frontman" for the Phillies. Pretty much everyone has been important so far. The focus is clearly on the instruments, which is exactly what makes our current Phillies team so special.

That's not to discount the role of the city in helping produce a groove that works - like what the Funkadelic talk about in their One Nation Under a Groove album, which even ends with a song called "Cholly (Funk Getting Ready To Roll!)." (It's like George Clinton foresaw the makeup of Uncle Cholly's present day Phillies!) While sitting outside a coffee shop in my neighborhood the other day, I overheard an interesting conversation about just this point—cities, like people and Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes, have soul too. This is all secondhand coffee talk, but I couldn't help but be intrigued by this dude's theory that how much soul a city has depends on two things: how many people from a city still live there to have memories about the city and how neurotically-obsessed people are with their city.

The fact that the Sound of Philadelphia is still honored on CBP's speakers taken with the current paranoia brewing among Phillies fans about when it's okay and not okay to boo can't help but make me think that Philadelphia has the most soul of all.

The Best Fans in America

For those who haven't heard the "news," GQ named Philadelphia fans "the worst fans in America." Eagles fans placed #2 to Phillies fans who took the cake... or ate the cake, had a couple beers, and threw it up all over April's issue of GQ while whipping a persistent stream of batteries at it. I know, I know. What do a bunch of pretty boys at GQ know about sports? Probably nothing. It still makes me angry when "journalists" don't do their research and churn out the same old stereotypes about Philadelphia. Here's their superficial and flawed logic about what constitutes a fan (and don't forget click the issue with Derek Jeter on the cover in the upper left corner if you want to start your subscription):

Over the years, Philadelphia fans have booed Santa Claus as well as their own star players. They've even booed a guy who just helped the city win a friggin' World Series title—while he was getting his ring. Boooo! Admittedly, there are some things fans have cheered. Like Michael Irvin's career-ending neck injury and a fan being tased on the outfield grass. Things reached their nadir last season, when Citizens Bank Park played host to arguably the most heinous incident in the history of sports: A drunken fan intentionally vomited on an 11-year-old girl. The truth is this: All told, Philadelphia stadiums house the most monstrous collection of humanity outside of the federal penal system. "Some of these people would boo the crack in the Liberty Bell," baseball legend Pete Rose once said. More likely, these savages would have thrown the battery that cracked it.

Google image search result #1: Phillies fans

It seems like the author of this article has it out for the City of Brotherly Love, for "savages" like me and Nadine. The fans I know and love are some of the best and most loyal fans on earth, and that's a "most loyal" based on science and being able to count the Phillies caps while walking around the city on any given day. I want to argue further but I haven't had any coffee yet, and this dude's reaction pretty much sums up everything I would have wanted to say:

I think the worst fans are the ones that don't boo. These are professional athletes, not kids. They are paid to do this. We should expect everything from the Phillies. We buy tickets, jerseys, and hats. We read about the Phillies year round. We get excited every March when baseball season approaches. Is it so wrong to voice our opinions? I'm glad I am part of a city that cares so much about their teams. Let's face the facts. Phillies fans aren't any more misbehaved than other passionate fans in Chicago, New York, and Boston. If GQ wants to find fans to call the worst, they should look at a city where no one shows up at the ballpark. Philadelphia Phillies fans line up every game to get the last few standing-room-only tickets. Contrary to what the media might say, we aren't buying tickets just to boo our team. We are doing it because we love the Phillies, we love the ballpark, and we love baseball. We are the best fans in America. We show up to every game, read every article, call the local stations, and watch every game on television. Yes, we are loud. That's what comes with being a passionate fan.

Feel free to get all nostalgic about your favorite fan moments in the comments.

Starting Rotation Press Conference Recap

In case you didn't catch it, a live press conference with the Phillies starting rotation aired today at 1:30 EST. A transcript is available here. I did my best to "liveblog" the conference on my twitter, while semi-discreetly watching from my desk. Here's what went through my head:

Let's make the Sad Joe Blanton emoticon a thing.

Image from the Fightin' Phils Tumblr. Says it all.

A few other things stood out for me: first, I'm  thrilled with the continued emphasis on CBP's unique vibes and how much they cater to our starters' competitive natures, helping already insanely talented players step up their games. Say what you want about the Philly Phaithful, but that's an unfuckwithable fact. I was also happy to hear—especially since I live in New York—that they've noticed and appreciate the loyal fans who follow them to other cities (even if the last time I saw the Phils play at CitiField I was in the very, very last row of the very, very upper deck).

Cliff Lee emerged as a spokesman for the group, fielding the most direct questions and handling any that no one else immediately stepped up to answer, crackin' jokes about his hitting ability, making goofy faces (see above). Charisma much?! Honestly, I wasn't surprised Cliff was the center of attention but I was shocked by how verbose he was. Who knew our boy could talk that much? I wonder if Cliff's famous love affair with Philadelphia is what earned him this place in the spotlight, or if it's just the natural result of coming #2 to man-of-no-words Roy Halladay. Also interesting was Cliff's assertion that feeling challenged by his fellow starters is not an incentive; he wants to feel competition from other teams only—not from his teammates (not exactly what I would've expected).

On that tip, it seems R2C2 is out and our rotation is in search of a more appropriate nickname, one that includes all five of its formidable arms. Ideas? Leave 'em in the comments.

The Jumboest of Trons

The Phillies recently spent $10 million to enhance the CBP viewing experience. This will include the installation one of the largest HD jumbotrons in the entire world. I'm told that it could feature 49 life-size Phanatics or 49 vomiting Phillies fans or some combination of the two. Yikes!

You know what that means, Philthadelphia, City of Uggos. Our ugly's going to broadcast in HD this year! Who knows if you'll be forced to smooch that old dude that smells like provolone on the Kiss Cam again? Or how much uglier things could get if the Jumbotron catches you alone in the bleachers crying with a faceful of crab fries to "All By Myself"?

Keep it classy, Philadelphia.

The He-Man Brew that the Gals Love Too!

Philadelphians love drinking beer. Heck! They love drinking period. They even have self-declared holidays centered around the sport like Philly Beer Week, and Philly Beer Year, which lasts for an entire year after the Phillies win or don't win the World Series.

This Ortlieb's ad from an old Phillies' scorecard and those billboards for Miller Lite and the Iggles got me thinking about what the beer of the Phillies should be. While lager means Yuengling here and the special (PBR + whiskey) is known citywide, I'd like to think that we could do better than that. Philadelphia's a land of microbreweries and dive bars and microbrew-stocked dive bars, and CBP probably has the best stadium beer selection ever. Even the Yankees have a beer, $10 Bud Lite based on last year's trip to Yankee Stadium, so why shouldn't we? Feel free to chime in here about your favorite ballgame libations and what you think the unofficial beer of the Philadelphia Phillies should be.

Also, check out this dude's flickr page for more neat Phillies stuff like this old Tastykake ad and sweet cover of the '77 Phillies yearbook.

Philly's More Fun When You Don't Sleep Over Every Night

Since moving to New York last year (after 25 years in our nation's former capital), I've said this line so many times I couldn't begin to count: "the only thing I miss about Philadelphia is the Phillies." And, like, my family, I guess. Or whatever. As far as I'm concerned, the city is otherwise a hateful place I can barely stand to spend a weekend in.

So naturally, it's mad weird to see Cliff Lee's decision to re-sign with the Phils as not just awesome for the team that now has four aces and for its fans and, y'know, me (as Cliff Lee's girlfriend) but also as the giant advertising campaign for the city itself that it's rapidly becoming. CLIFF LEE IS THE COOLEST MAN ON THE PLANET. AND A TOTAL BABE. DUH. OK YEA, I OBVIOUSLY GET IT. But does Philadelphia really deserve the great press it's trying to give itself on the basis of Cliff & Kristen Lee's desire to live there? (See: this billboard from the city's lame Tourism Marketing Corporation, going up on I-95, or Phil Sheridan's piece in today's Daily News, arguing that the Lees' attraction to the city "proves" that—in the immortal words of SEPTA—we're getting there. In fact, as of yesterday's 3pm press conference, we've officially arrived.) So the Lees are multi-millionaires who enjoy the view from a Rittenhouse Square penthouse. Doesn't really change the fact that the Philadelphia I know and sometimes almost sort of love (or at least will defend when someone else shit-talks it) is best represented by the creepily-accurate portrayal on It's Always Sunny or maybe the chorus to Kanye West's "Runaway." LET'S HAVE A TOAST FOR THE DOUCHEBAGS!

Nevertheless, it was rad to see some appreciation come the way of Philly sports fans that doesn't have anything to do with our ability to accurately aim D batteries at Santa Claus. Lee did a great job of explaining what I love about being a Phillies fan and going to games at CBP:

Every game has got an elevated feel to it compared to everywhere else. It’s completely different. I don’t know what the fans do to create that much more volume and excitement in the stadium, but it’s definitely something extra here... They’re passionate fans. They understand what’s going on. They don’t need a teleprompter to tell them to get up and cheer... I don’t know how to explain it other than you can feel the volume that’s created by the fans and their intensity.

I wouldn't wanna live there, but it's a great place to visit. And then run away from as soon as possible.

Before I conclude this introductory blog post, I'd like to spend a little more time actually introducing it. I am a person who is bored at work and started this blog mainly to kill some time, up the Phillies punx, and maybe make jokes and post animated Cliff Lee gifs. I don't have access to any breaking news that hasn't already broke and, for the most part, I lack the attention span to look through a lot of statistics.

I will be joined in this adventure by Lauren, a transplant to Philadelphia who truly digs the city and its baseball team and would totally date Charlie Manuel. We hope you'll enjoy our alternative viewpoints on the Philadelphia Phillies.

You know you love us. Xoxo.