The Church of Baseball

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.

To Dream the Impossible Dream

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?

The Old Main Drag

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 level as 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.

You've Got to Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive

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.

All-Stars, They're Just Like Us!

The Phillies, 53-31 at press time and still the best team in baseball, are sending (at least) four players to this year's MLB All-Star game.

Thanks to an insane spring (which, unfortunately, seemed to end as soon as June began) and a shallow pool of competition, Placido Polanco won the fan vote and will start at third base. And, for the first time, the Phillies will send three—count 'em—three starting pitchers to the All-Star game: Halladay, Hamels, and Lee. The last time they came close was when Curt Schilling and Paul Byrd each made the team in 1999. Who do you think should get the start for the NL this year?

What I would really like to see, however, is a spot on the team for Carlos Ruiz. Our Aces wouldn't be what they are without Chooch calling games and providing rock solid defense behind the plate. It would be nice to see that acknowledged on the big stage of the Midsummer Classic.

Finally, Shane Victorino has a chance to win the Final Vote and be a National League All-Star for the second time in his career. He needs our support—click here to vote now. The Flyin' Hawaiian has been carrying this offense lately; he deserves it. Just gonna need to see his birth certificate first. (Kidding!)

Everybody Hits! Woo Hoo!

Take a look at us now.

Baseball's back! For those who didn't catch the end of yesterday's game in a dingy pizza place across the street from work, the Phillies rallied for three runs in the bottom of the ninth to beat the Houston Astros in a great show of Opening Day April foolery. This is how it all went down:

Jimmy Rollins singled. Ryan Howard singled. Raul Ibanez popped out. Jimmy stole third. Ben Francisco singled. Chooch singled while Phil Collins' "Sussudio" played on the pizza place's radio. I began to dance in my seat with a slice of pizza (What is it about the Chooch/Phil Collins combo that's so darn magical?) Wilson Valdez doubled. Then John Mayberry Jr. slapped a hit to center with the bases loaded to complete the Phils' walk-off rally. Mayberry was pied and the entire city celebrated by slinging back beers in neighborhood bars.

Someone who probably didn't celebrate and ate his feelings in pizza while listening to a lot of Phil Collins was "relief pitcher" for the Astros Brandon Lyon who currently has a 81.00 ERA as a result of that beautiful ninth inning for the Phillies (1/3 IP, 6H, 3R). What a game!

The Adventures of Carlos and Carlos and Carlos

Dear Carlos Ruiz,

Congratulations, bro! We were wondering why you'd missed a couple of spring training games, and then we heard that your wife back in Panama just had a baby son. And that you named him Carlos, just like yourself. And, uh, your eight-year-old son.

This got us thinking one thing: you could really use some new entrance music. I mean, Phil Collins? Really? What's your strategy there? I can't imagine the former Genesis singer is particularly intimidating to the opposing team's pitcher. Or is it the "American Psycho" connection? You're right—Christian Bale is pretty terrifying. But even he went with the crowd-pleasing "Sussudio" instead. And as a catcher, we thought you'd understand the value of a catchy entrance song more than almost anyone.

Okay, okay, we get it, you just really love Phil. No disrespect. I'm quite fond of him myself after hearing Starlee Kine's piece on "This American Life." But we were thinking maybe you could use another song that will remind you of something you love, while making the crowd at CBP feel just a little less awkward. Something simple, poppy, and nostalgic, perhaps? Something that'll take you back to your family in Panama, to Big Carlos and Little Carlos... Hey wait, I've got an idea:


Come back soon, Chooch! No matter what song you choose to walk out to this year, we really, really miss you. And so does Roy Halladay, in this incredibly adorable video:


Lots of love and best of luck to Mama Chooch, Chooch Jr., Baby Chooch, and to our favorite Chooch of all!

Come home soon!

xoxo

Nadine and Lauren

My Name is Cupid Valentino

This Chooch valentine was made possible by an idea I had in the shower this morning and the Photoshopping skills of close friend to Scoring Position, Michael Tom.