Raise the Jolly Roger!

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.

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.

Never Forget: Darren Daulton

Tonight, stop by the South Philly Bar and Grill at 1235 East Passyunk Avenue for a chance to meet famed Phillies catcher, conspiracy theorist, and astral time traveler Darren "Dutch" Daulton! Dutch will be "mixing with the crowd from 8-10 pm and enjoying $2.75 Yuengling Lights," according to the invite I received.

I was wondering how I ended up on the South Philly Bar & Grill's email promotions list until Lauren astutely reminded me that I probably signed my name to something sketchy whilst watching drunken bros form a conga line to a karaoke rendition of "Proud to Be An American" and spit in one of my best friend's faces. Suddenly, it all made sense, and the only thing strange about this announcement was the idea of any 1993 Phils' alumnus being caught drinking light beer.

While we're reminiscing, check out this fantastic post about my personal favorite '93 Phillie and accomplished killer of brain cells, John Kruk, who was inducted into the Phillies Wall of Fame last week.

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.

Putting the X in Exxon Valdez

At Scoring Position, we're certainly not strangers to investigating which of your favorite baseball players are secretly or not-so-secretly straight edge. So of course it got my attention when—during last night's game against the Nationals—I noticed that second-baseman Wilson Valdez had drawn unmistakable X's onto his batting gloves.

Unfortunately, googling "is Wilson Valdez straight edge?" just leads you back to this blog. Which leaves me wondering: could the Philadelphia Phillies have a straight edge kid in their midst? Could Philadelphia—home of Kenzinger and Ben "Beer is proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy" Franklin and Philly Beer Week, where you can buy a 20-ounce cup of lager for $2.35 at McGlinchey's or this t-shirt—also be home to a replacement Chase Utley who doesn't even drink? I want to know the truth: is Wilson Valdez straight edge? Or is he just putting the X's in his way-too-perfect nickname, Exxon Valdez?

Enterprising tipsters, send your thoughts to scoringpositionblog@gmail.com. And while you're at it, follow Scoring Position on Facebook for more frequent updates on your favorite bunch of baseball dudes—and how their edge is.

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.

Why Don't You Drink F***ing Beer?

My uncle—and lifelong Philly sports fanatic—Mark* has a great strategy for dealing with being bored, which I, incidentally, very often am while I'm at work. A game that never gets old and never goes out of season: Let's Start A Rumor. It is in the spirit of that game that I bring you this post...

It all started when I was browsing the archives of fellow punk Phillies blog The Big Sharkey Show and came upon a reference to the SF Giants' Brian Wilson and the suggestion that the infamous beardo/weirdo was nailed to the X, that is to say, dedicated to the straight edge lifestyle. Really, you ask???? Would you allow this to happen without the aid of alcohol? However, some cursory searching quickly brought a few points to my attention:

Doesn't Wilson look weirdly like Greg Dobbs here?

1) Brian Wilson's crossed arms gesture after every save looks suspiciously like the straight edge X. Wilson explains the gesture as a simultaneous tribute to his late father, a mixed martial arts clothing line, and his Christianity: "when I cross my arms, I have my left hand in the fist and my right hand goes underneath pointing with my finger. What I’ve taken into my own belief is that this finger represents one man. The fist represents the power of the Holy Trinity: the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ... So I basically give respect to the ultimate fighting world and I also give respect to Christ, the audience of one that I play for." I've always suspected that straight edge kids are actually secret Jesus freaks!

2) The same article further explains that Brian Wilson wears a t-shirt bearing the crossed arms/X design under his uniform while he pitches. Win or lose, he's still nailed to the X.

3) Finally, Wilson's Wikipedia page** clears things up: "Wilson ... adheres to a Straight Edge way of life ... As a sign of his choice of being Straight Edge, Wilson has the words "Straight Edge" tattooed along the length of his torso, Japanese characters on his shoulder that read "Poison Free," and "XXX" stitched on his ... glove as a straight edge symbol" !!!!

In conclusion, I have only one thing to the straight edgers of the world, and I will say it in the words of Murphy's Law:

* Other things my uncle Mark is famous for: "inventing" the slogan "the only band that matters" to describe The Clash, a boo so legendarily loud Pete Rose himself tipped his hat from first base, and actually punching me on Christmas when I said I'm not an Eagles fan (sorry!!).

** The Wilson mentioned here may or may not actually be Brian.