Death to Winter! Long Live Baseball!

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.

May the 19th

"May 19th! I'm tellin' you! May 19th!"

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!!!"

The juju seemed all fucked up, but was it? Of course it wasn't! Some dude was born in Philadelphia 49 years ago! May 19th! May 19th!

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.

Cliff Lee made an awful base-running error in the bottom of the ninth but wore an awesome t-shirt after the game, so whatever. Then it was Holy Kratz with the game-tying (could have been game-winning) solo blast! Turkey bacon for everyone! Our section started chanting "May 19th! May 19th!" and Little Freddy Galvis smashed another solo shot that fell just inside the left field pole. Un-friggin'-believable!

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.

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.

Tropical Storm Lee to put a damper on Labor Day for Atlanta

It hasn't been the best weekend for the Phils in rainy Florida. Back in April when Greg Dobbs pinch-blogged "Can the Phillies win without Greg Dobbs?", urging the Phillies to get the old band back together, maybe he had this weekend's series in mind. While Greg Dobbs has, in fact, put up pretty good numbers against the Phillies this weekend and this year, homering against Herndon to seal the deal Saturday night and going 0.371 vs. the Phillies and 0.500 vs. Halladay, yesterday's loss cannot be blamed on Greg Dobbs.

That is, unless Greg Dobbs strategically planted those Phillies "fans" in the bleacher seats to interfere with Hunter Pence's hit in the sixth out of spite. Potential double, home run, or caught ball, we'll never really know how yesterday's 14 inning marathon would have ended due to a couple of ignorant fans that reached over into Bryan Peterson's glove. Wasn't that one fan aware of the rule that says that if you choose to use your cap, protector, pocket, or any other part of your uniform, it is not a catch anyway? How about the rule that says you shouldn't interfere with baseball because it might later cause your team to lose by walking a batter with the bases loaded in the 14th? The only marathon that I was more pissed watching while stuck to a couch was the final season of the Sopranos. It produced a similar reaction of "WTF!?!??! Is there something wrong with my television? Seriously? That's it."

I doubt that the Phillies' protest will take back yesterday's loss, but don't stop believing, folks. Plus, we've got another game today and I've read more than once that Tropical Storm Lee is set to put a damper on Labor Day for Atlanta. While he has posted his worst numbers against the Braves this year, 1-3 with a 4.98 ERA, keep in mind that Sir Clifton's coming out of a 5-0 August with a 0.45 ERA, some hits, and a couple of RBIs. He's a true Renaissance man. Let's just hope that today's weather report is right for once.

Replace "El Nino" with "Cliff Lee" and tropical storms with "baseball players", and it all makes sense. The magic number's 18. The Phillies are a comfortable 7.5 games ahead of the Braves. Lee has a chance to make those numbers even better at CBP tonight by bringing all tomahawk chops to a halt as he goes for his 16th win and 200th K.

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!)

Clifton Phifer Lee

I don't really know what to say, so I hope this says it all: CLIFTON!

Clifton "My Dream Dude" Phifer Lee. Three consecutive shut-outs. 33 straight scoreless innings. In the month of June, he's held opponents to a .152 average while batting .250 himself—allowing just one earned run and picking up 2 RBIs.

It's clear that Cliff prefers the National League game (who can forget that game back in May when Charlie had to actually pull Cliff out of the batter's box, because he'd chosen to ignore the fact that he was being taken out for a pinch-hitter?). Watching him pitch to Beckett last night, I could've sworn I caught a glimpse of disdain in Cliff's eyes. Like, dude, how pathetic is it that you let David Ortiz bat for you? I wonder if his multiple displays of badassery against the Yankees in the 2009 World Series (see above) were also due, at least in part, to this sense of superiority over the American League? All I can say is, I'm glad Clifton Phifer Lee would prefer to play in our league. And I'm sure all of Philadelphia would say the same.

Dear Cliff,

Uh, gee. Gosh. Golly. Goddamn. I don't even know. Just, like, THANK YOU for coming back to Philadelphia. Thank you so much.

Love,

Nadine

Sweet, Sweet Fantasy, Baby

Happy Opening Day! Or, as my friend Rob put it, the only day this season when the New York Mets will be tied for first! For some of us (the city of Philadelphia, me, other people who are in love with Cliff Lee), the excitement of baseball season started with a bang way back in December. Even before spring training began, the fantasy of what the 2011 season would hold was so sweet. Now Opening Day itself feels rather anticlimactic. What are you doing to get yourself in the mood?

2011 marks the first season that I will be participating in a fantasy baseball league. I drafted my team (newly christened "The Sunnydale Razorbacks") last night and am proud to report I have one Fightin' Phil. And it's Joe Blanton! Don't make me sad, Joe. :(=

On that note, I wonder if I should try to invent a Sad Chase Utley emoticon as well. Is there a way to draw a sad little blue bench under a sad face?

Poor Chase. Left unpicked through round after round, until finally you were auto-drafted by someone who didn't even want you. Poor Chase. I can't possibly imagine your life without baseball in it. Poor Chase. I hope your wife didn't really cheat on you with Jayson Werth. Poor Chase. Did you have a good relationship with your father? Me neither. Poor Chase Utley. Is second base cursed?

With the first real game of the season just one day away, let's hope that the 2011 Phillies have avoided all curses: Sports Illustrated cover-related, William Penn-related, and otherwise. And let's all hope that my Sunnydale Razorbacks have far fewer fatalities than The Sunnydale Razorbacks.

You Know You Love Me XOXO

Happy Valentine's Day to our Baseball Boyfriends!

Love,

The Ladies of Scoring Position

xoxo

It's a beautiful day and the sun is actually sort of shining. It's Valentine's Day, I'm in love with the Phillies and some other people too, and I feel like I'm in Clearwater from 1,200 miles away.

Aack! Happy Pitchers and Catchers Day!

It's about goddamn time! This sweet graphic with hints of the boss's first album was posted by the folks over at Beerleaguer. Not to be a total girl or anything, but it is Valentine's Day weekend and the only thing that's keeping me from turning into a Cathy cartoon right now is listening to Bruce's "It's Hard To Be A Saint In The City" in my Cliff Lee tee while fantasizing about winding arms and popping gloves.

I bet that Cliff Lee could walk like Brando right into the sun, then dance just like a Casanova. Just look at the man! Swoon.

Hearts On Fire, Strong Desire

I miss you, Philadelphia. Since I moved in with you just five short years ago, my childhood bedroom in Connecticut has slowly morphed into a storage room for old perfume bottles, partially rewound VHS tapes, and terrible CDs from the mid to late 90s. It's kind of like the box of stuff you'd return to an ex if you hadn't taken a baseball bat to it first. Someone even tacked up a 1999 World Series pennant in here. The Yanks walloped the Braves in four games that year, while '99 for the Phils went from "promising to disastrous in the blink of an eye" (probably explains why it was also the year those batteries were thrown).

So as I sit here, in the room of my former self, awaiting this week's return to the land of late night pretzels, mummers, and these guys, I'm forced to reconcile with the fact that I once rooted for the team that won the pennant in 1999, the same team that beat the Phils in the 2009 World Series and that Cliff Lee didn't want to play for next season. But, hey. I had no choice. I was born into a Yankees family from central Connecticut, a no mans land for professional sports. (That is, since the Whalers left in 1997, and despite how much Connecticut folks still talk about missing the Whale and their sweet logo, I was always under the impression that they considered UCONN more of a pro team.)

I stopped caring about the Yankees and baseball at some point in the early 2000s when everyone got really into drinking steroid cocktails and bathing themselves in money (here's to you, Jason Giambi). Before that, I saw the Yanks as any kid saw the team they grew up with, as a bunch of good dudes that enjoyed the game - dudes like young Andy Pettitte, acoustic guitarist Bernie Williams, and old man Paul O'Neill that always got up to bat with the biggest smile on to "Baba O'Riley" by the Who. When I moved to Philadelphia in 2005, most of the good dudes were gone and I found myself without a team and no longer able to relate to the Yankees or New York. That's where Philadelphia came in, and shortly after my move, I officially dumped the pretty boy Yanks for the working class Phils, Steff from Pretty in Pink for Rocky.

That's not to say that I grew up not caring about the Phillies or hating the Mets. My family was a bigger fan of baseball than they were of the Yankees, and in '99 we payed close attention to the Phillies because of one player that grew up close to my hometown named Rico Brogna. Check out Rico as a baby.

Rico mysteriously disappeared from baseball two years after what was a pretty good year with the Phils and inexplicably ended up at my high school coaching football. I really want to make a Gerardo joke here, probably because "Rico Suave" would play in my head whenever Brogna and I crossed paths. I imagine that this happens to every girl that crosses paths with a dude lucky enough to be a Rico after 1990. Ah, "the price you pay for being a gigolo", but I digress.

I guess the point in all of this girl talk about dudes that play baseball, the good, the bad, and the suave, is that Rico was the first player that turned me on to Philadelphia. He was kind of like that dude that made you a great mix tape when you were fifteen and too stupid to know good music yet. When I moved to Philadelphia without a team in 2005, the rest was history. I found myself quickly falling in love with another team of good dudes that enjoyed the game. Jimmy and Chase and Ryan and Shane.

Sure, there are other great moments worth mentioning here that made me love the Phillies. Like that time an entire bar erupted into "High Hopes" after the Phillies beat the Reds in Game 2 of the NL Series this year. Or that time I was hanging out of a car on Broad Street screaming my lungs out about baseball and Tastykakes. We all have these moments, but ultimately the strong desire for the Phils that raged within, to paraphrase a song from Rocky IV, stemmed from my love for a bunch of good dudes like Rico.

Like blogging partner and fellow babe, Nadine, I'm a person that does not have any inside information on the Phillies. I'm a transplant to the city for Pete's sake. I'm just glad I didn't get kicked out yet. However, I do find myself constantly reading, posting, and sharing information about the Phillies, and until I figure out how to use my college degree in cognitive neuroscience to better understand why people love baseball as much as I do, I'll be doing this.

I originally wanted to make a Phillies blog titled "My Boyfriend, Charlie Manuel" in which I'd write about the Phillies from the perspective of Charlie Manuel's girlfriend - making him sleep on the couch during losing streaks and cooking him the juiciest of steaks after climbing space mountain to beat the Yankees. This just seemed a lot easier.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Until I see you later this week, Philadelphia, remember to keep checking the mail:

DEAR PHILADELPHIA,

YOU ARE... THIS IS...
I PROMISED MYSELF I WOULDN'T GET CHOKED UP.
I LOVE YOU.

XOXO,

LAUREN

Reality Check

The signing of Cliff Lee is undeniably awesome. I doubt any city (or person, as in, um, myself) has ever had such an intense, whirlwind love affair with a particular professional athlete—been so heartbroken to see him go and overjoyed at the Christmas miracle of his return. Of course it's great. But in the midst of all the kissing and making up and making out that's been going on, a few of the less heartwarming points have been left out of the picture. As great as it is to have Mr. Lee back home in Philly, his addition doesn't exactly fill any holes in the Phillies' roster. With three aces, we don't really need a fourth. What we were missing was the right-handed power bat of Cliff's bitter buddy Jayson Werth (U MAD).

Like I said, I don't particularly care to wade through the depths of obscure statistics and look up each dude's VORP or whatever else might be relevant to this comparison. But what I do find troubling is Ruben Amaro Jr.'s assertion, at Tuesday's press conference, that starting pitching is what wins championships.

Anyone who watched the Phillies battle the Giants in this year's NLCS and who is familiar with one "rodeo clown Cody Ross" knows that starting pitching did not win those games. Starting pitching on either side was mediocre at best. Doc's second outing only seemed to live up to his legend once we realized he was playing hurt, and the Giant's Snivellus Snape didn't work all that much of his dark magic.

What won a championship for SF was a couple of bearded bullpen creeps and inexplicably hot bats.

Who knows how this will all actually play out, but it does beg a few questions. Will some combination of Dom Brown/Ben Francisco/Ross Gload make up for the loss of Jayson Werth? I wouldn't screenprint too many of those "R2C2" novelty t-shirts; I'm not completely convinced either Roy Oswalt or Cole Hamels is here to stay.

I Keep My Promises

You're welcome.

Image via Fightin' Phils tumblr.

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.