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.

Oh My God! You Mean That's the Same Guy?

I thought I was hallucinating when I woke up on my couch to the fuzz of the Phillies game still blaring through my radio. While I had dozed in and out, the Phillies had stayed in it. The Reds had too. For 18 innings. At this point in the game, Chooch was playing third, Polly was playing second, and Wilson Valdez was taking the mound against the meat and potatoes of the Reds' lineup: Joey Votto, Scott Rolen, Jay Bruce.

Is this all a dream? Is Roy Oswalt in left field right now?

The announcers told me it was all real. Well, everything except for that part about Roy O. After the Phillies had used up their entire bullpen, utility infielder Wilson Valdez was called in to pitch. He went on to throw a hitless 19th against batters 3, 4, 5, and 6 for the Reds. His fastball even clocked in around 90 mph. The Phillies went on to score on a walk-off sac-fly by Raul Ibanez. Valdez earned the win, a 0.00 ERA, and a pie to the face after having pitched last in a 2002 pickup game in the Dominican Republic. Oh, and Valdez went 3-for-6 at the plate. And hit Scott Rolen with a pitch.

God, I love baseball.

Fun fact: The last time a position player started a game in the field and came away with a win was October 1, 1921. That player was none other than the Sultan of Swat, the King of Crash, the Collossus of Clout, Babe Ruth. THE GREAT BAMBINO! So I guess that means that by the transitive powers of baseball, Wilson Valdez equals George Herman Ruth.

For those who slept through the excitement, a recap and video are available here.

Back in Baby's Arms

Remember Chase "World Fucking Champions" Utley? Tonight, Chase makes his season debut after a long recovery from patellar tendinitis in his right knee. Maybe the Red Death is finally over. Bring on the hitting renaissance!

Chase will be batting second in the lineup against the Reds who, like half of the National League, have been outslugging the Phillies since April. Had Chase been out much longer, he could have been elected to play in the MLB All-Star Game without ever playing in a regular season game. This actually wouldn't have been that strange considering that a dead man was elected mayor of a Tennessee town last year and Frank Rizzo almost ran as a write-in candidate for mayor of Philadelphia last week.

Like most fans, I can't wait to hear the crack of Chase Utley's bat after Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" blasts through CBP's speakers again. However, this little diddy might be just as appropriate entrance music for Chutley's return:

He's back where he belongs, back in baby's arms.

And Now for Something Completely Different

The Phillies got their bats back! No, it's just He-Man Charlie Manuel riding a Phanatic like a bat out of hell. The rapture's a-comin', Saturday, May 21 according to a creepy gang of buses that surrounded me on the Jersey Turnpike and the Phillies' four game losing streak, and it'd be nice to go out with my boys on top playing good ball. Isn't that what we all hope for at the end of the world?

Last night marked another "meh" performance for the Phils. While Oswalt pitched surprisingly well after struggling with his velocity down in Clearwater, the offense once again failed to deliver. A terrified Danys Baez once again provided the opposite of relief allowing three straight singles to load the bases for the Cardinals in the bottom of the ninth. I once again was perplexed by the recent demotion of the Great Vance Worley after Vance Worley pitched so darn great.

While you might be saying to yourself that the Phillies lost a few games and it's not the end of the world, just sit in your local park for an hour and some kook will remind you that this Saturday's Judgement Day. What else could also explain the fact the Phillies are dropping like flys? Age? Young buck Michael Stutes might be the most recent addition to our clown car of a disabled list.

Whether the end of the world is indeed this Saturday or another future date predicted by bad math, the Phillies need to start playing like they mean it with whoever they have left. Seriously. I don't want to spend my last days drinking Jersey Turnpikes while cursing my favorite team of ballplayers.

To delay being reduced to such, you can check out more awesome Phillies-inspired comics like He-Man Charlie here!

Put Him In, Coach!

John Mayberry, Jr! What's not to love? That smile, that speed, that walk-off hit on opening day... He's everything a Phillies fan dreams of. And he's smart, too! In 2002, Mayberry was the highest-drafted player to elect to attend a four-year college instead of signing a contract—and that college was Stanford. Now, Mayberry is winning our hearts with a fantastic start to the 2011 season and a solid case for an everyday spot in the outfield.

At 6'6 and 27-years-young (hard to believe, I know—I would've guessed he was about 22), Mayberry has never had much of a chance to prove himself in the big leagues. Once a #19 pick overall, his minor league career was plagued by a high strikeout rate and inability to hit right-handed pitching. But he continued to make his case yesterday with a two-run homer off the right-handed Tim Hudson, plus two walks and a stolen base. In fact, Mayberry's performance was the only highlight of an otherwise lackluster game, a fitting end to a depressing weekend for the Phillies (full disclosure: I turned it off and watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer instead). Okay, maybe making Mayberry an everyday player is risky, but with the current state of the corner outfielders and pathetic production from the bottom of the line-up, the Phillies don't really have much to lose. At best, he continues his promising beginning to the 2011 season—clutch hits, speed, charisma, and solid play in the outfield—and letting him start pays off big time. At worst, young Mayberry adds a little freshness and life to an aching, aging line-up. He looks hungry for a chance to play, like he's serenading Charlie Manuel with "put me in, coach!" from his spot on the bench.

While Charlie is known for his loyalty to his players (which explains sticking with Raul Ibanez throughout his epic slump this season), has Ben Francisco actually earned any of that loyalty? Francisco only won his job in right field this season because Dom Brown wasn't around and healthy enough to challenge him for it. Why shouldn't John Mayberry Jr. get that same chance? With Shane Victorino hurt, maybe he finally will. This could be his at-bat music:


Put him in, Coach!

If You Own the Atlanta Braves...

Tonight the Atlanta Braves come to Philadelphia for a three-game series, which has really got me wondering: how on earth is it still acceptable to have Native American nickname teams in 2011?

Let's do a quick poll. Which is worse (and I'm limiting this to baseball here): the Cleveland Indians and their racist caricature logo (see right) or the Atlanta Braves and their tomahawk chop? Honestly, I'm inclined to vote Indians on the basis of that logo, but it's hard when my hatred of the Braves runs so deep. It was bred into me as a child, when I used to sit in front of the television holding up homemade anti-Braves signs. David Justice was a particular target of my venom. And they had the nerve to call themselves "America's Team" even though their lame, gimmicky cheer is offensive to the people who, like, actually discovered this country in the first place? Not to mention, supposedly stolen from the Floria Seminoles, which just seems way too fitting.

There are plenty of arguments against maintaining Native American nickname teams in this day and age, but I think Philadelphia's own Atom and His Package may have said it best.

Atom and His Package - "If You Own the Washington Redskins, You're A Cock" 

I'm proud to report that I successfully converted my North Carolina-raised, childhood-Braves-fan boyfriend into a Phillies fan (his favorite players are Roy O and John Mayberry Jr.), because you know what they say: if you know a Braves fan who thinks he is your friend, now is the time for your friendship to end.

In other news, I have been too sick to blog (or drink coffee!) for days and a lot has happened. Here's a quick round-up: the Phillies got out the brooms against Jayson Werth and the Nationals, Raul "When It Rains, It Pours" Ibanez broke out of his historic slump (I guess dude finally got around to making some new horcruxes), Cole "2008" Hamels was—in the words of his #1 fan, my mom—great, tremendous, awesome, wonderful, thrilling, and fantastic, moving J-Roll back to the leadoff spot is paying off big-time, Vance Worley continues to impress with both his pitching and his sweet glasses, Roy Halladay has been hugging his Chooch pillow and crying himself to sleep as it looks likely that Carlos Ruiz will head to the DL, and the Philadelphia Phillies are the best team in baseball. (I mean, technically, they're tied with the Cleveland Indians, but that's racist.)

Raul Ibanez, End of an Era

Raul Ibanez finally ended his epic 0-35 slump two nights ago. He went on to hit this solo home run to right field in last night's game against the Nats. Had the slump continued, Raul could have beat out Bill Bergen's record for the longest slump among non-pitching players in baseball history. Bergen went 0-46 with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1909. So yeah, it could have been worse, but not much worse. Raul ended up going 3-for-4 as the Phillies chugged Natty Lites and crushed the cans on their foreheads. Final score: 7-4.

Since the beginning of the Great Slump, a lot has happened. I, like many of you everyday people, filed my taxes and shortly after spent all of my returns on necessary beers and wings that helped with Flyers watchability. The southern United States experienced one of the worst tornadoes in US history, rendering many homeless and the Phillies Oswaltless. Phanatics witnessed the fall of Joe Blanton and the rise of Vance Worley. Oh yeah, and our country also found and killed Osama bin Laden! USA! USA! USA!

I'm just happy that the search for Raul's swing is finally over. Tonight let us rejoice in Rauuuul howls at the moon and hope that the man stays hungry and true to his at-bat music about British werewolves:


Raaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuullllllllllllllllll!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Vance Worley, Man of Mystery

They have to be running out of room in the Phillies infirmary! Joe Blanton, the fifth ace, is the most recent addition to the DL as a result of a medial impingement of the right elbow. Yeah, that's Big Joe's thowing elbow. Maybe this explains why he's been off to such a rough start with the Phils. :(=

As a result, the Phillies will be calling up 23-year-old right-hander Vance Worley to the big leagues to face Mike Pelfry and the Muts tonight. Just who is this Vance Worley? I do hear that he's been playing some great Triple-A ball for the Iron Pigs. Whoever he is, he might have a chance to become the most famous Vance ever as the list of famous Vances is short. This is probably because Vance is from the Old English meaning "dweller of a bog."

More old school Reading Phils cards here!

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 Phillies are Givin' Me Agita!

I don't know about the rest of you jabronis, but the Phillies have been givin' me agita! Apologies for the Italian-American slang, but I'm friggin' angry! (Fun fact: I actually grew up in the same place as the guy who made "agita" a thing. Here he is singing about it in the trailer for Woody Allen's Broadway Danny Rose.) After mercying some team called "Battitude Adjustment" last night, I rushed home from my softball game in Fairmount expecting to turn on the radio and hear my boys doing the same. Instead, the Padres had scored, the Phillies had not, and Polanco had two of the Phillies three hits. One beer later, the Phillies lost 4-0 with only three hits on the board.

I'm trying really hard right now not to make a joke about how the Phillies need a "battitude adjustment", but maybe that's exactly what they need. As good as our record is- 15-7, friggin' best in baseball, the "Fightins" haven't scored more than four runs in the last 14 games. Stone throwers like to blame Raul "Werewolves of London" Ibanez for not putting any English on it, but let's be honest. It's pretty much everyone. Even that lovable Chooch! I say bring back the "woo hoo" guy. We need somebody to hit, and everybody hitting? That would be awesome.

Or maybe Uncle Cholly should give John Mayberry Jr. another start in right field (see cleverly chosen photo) or at least some more at-bats. Pete Orr too! Both have batting averages higher than the starting lineup outside of Polanco. But, hey, what do I know? The only time I spend on a field is on Monday nights playing teams like "Battitude Adjustment" and some other team of old dudes that ate pizza on the sidelines and also fell victim to the mercy rule. That might not be much, but we're in first place too, and that's a first place based on bats. Go Flyers!