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.

Harry, Whitey, and the Pizza Twins

Someone once told me that if you are born in Philadelphia, you will most likely die here. While I'm not sure if statistics can actually prove this, the thought of dying in Philadelphia led me to compile a list of things to do here before I die, a "Fuck it!" list. While I was actually born in Waterbury, CT, my visiting friends that were born in and will most likely die in Waterbury have described Philly as "Waterbury South" and "just a better Waterbury". Plus, I don't feel like I'm leaving any time soon.

So far, I've checked off a number of things on the list, none of which involve running up the Rocky steps or braving the lines at Pat's or Geno's - although, I've accidentally (drunkenly) done the latter in the past year. Twice.

While that first Sixers game I went to ended in over 100 points for Philly and free Big Macs for all, it will never beat my bike ride from my apartment in West Philly to Harry Kalas's grave site in Laurel Hill Cemetery. It wasn't the anniversary of HK's call of Matt Stairs' moon shot or the day the Phillies won the World Series. It was just a perfect kind of Sunday morning and the Phillies would be on later.

My favorite thing in the Harry Kalas Museum Exhibit, which is just one tiny room in a rickety house at the cemetery's entrance, was a Celebre's pizza box. Next to it was its story which is best summed up here in the speech HK gave when he was inducted into the Hall of Fame:

This is the ultimate honor in a game that I have loved since I was 10 years old thanks to Mickey Vernon. It’s very special to be inducted with the most acrobatic shortstop I ever saw play this beautiful game, Ozzie Smith, and the legendary Joe Falls from the Motor City. I now join my two partners with whom I worked when I first came to Philadelphia in 1971, By Saam and Richie Ashburn.

People ask me what it was like working with Richie. His Whiteness and I were together for 27 years, and it was such a joy. He not only brought to the booth baseball expertise, but also laughter. Whitey had a marvelous sense of humor. I remember doing games with him, and it would be getting late in the game, late in the evening, and Whitey would say on the air, “I wonder if the people at Celebre's Pizza are listening tonight?” Well, within 15 minutes, bang, pizzas are delivered to the radio booth.

This went on for a little while, and pretty soon Phillies management called him in, and they said, “Richie, Celebre's Pizza is not one of our sponsors. We can’t be giving them free plugs.” Now, we do do birthday and anniversary announcements on the air. So shortly after his meeting with the Philadelphia brass, it’s getting late again in the evening, and he’s getting hungry, he said. “Well, I have very special birthday wishes to send out tonight to the Celebre's twins, plain and pepperoni.”

I want to thank the Phillies for their undying support for the last 32 years. Especially to Bill Giles, who brought me to Philadelphia in 1971, the best professional move I ever made. To the players, coaches and managers over the years, one of the many beauties of this game is no matter how long you’ve been in it, you learn more about it every year, every day. Every year I see things on the field that I’ve never seen before. A feel for the game was learned from so many men in uniform I could not possibly name them all. But you know who you are, and I love you.

To the members of the media who have been so supportive over the years — my colleagues, the beat writers and columnists, the radio/TV productions staff and crews across the USA. To the scouts and general managers over the years who have shared their baseball knowledge and experience in hundreds of press rooms across America.

The love of my life, my wife, Eileen. My sons Todd, Brad and Kane. My stepdaughter, Kiki, my stepson, Travis, my stepgrandson, Cole. My brother, Jim, and his wife, Mary, and my nieces and nephews. Families sacrifice when their man is a baseball man. For seven months a year, we spend more time with our team than we do with our families. I thank you for being so understanding and supportive.

We come here to Cooperstown to laud our baseball heroes each year. But all of us laud America’s heroes from all walks of life whose selflessness is on display daily. Those that lay their lives on the line for our safety, you are in our hearts. There are some loved ones in heaven looking down on us today. Mom, Dad, Celia, Byrum, Whitey, Ray Shore, Art Perkins, Mike Capredo, I thank you. And to the most passionate sports fans in America, the Philadelphia fans. I have written a brief poem to you beautiful fans.

This is to the Philadelphia fan.
To laud your passion as best I can.

Your loyalty is unsurpassed.Be the Fightins in first or last. 

We come to the park each day,looking forward to another fray. 

Because we know you’ll be there,we know you really care. 

You give the opposing pitcher fitsbecause as one loyalist shouts, everybody hits.

To be sure in Philly, there might be some boos.Because you passionate fans, like the manager, hate to lose. 

Your reaction to the action on the field that you impart,spurs as broadcasters to call the game with enthusiasm and heart.

We feel your passion through and through.
Philadelphia fans, I love you.

And thank you all for sharing in a day that I will never forget. I love you. Thank you.

What a class act. Even though Harry Kalas passed away three years ago today, it's the retold stories, like that one about the pizza twins or where you heard that final out of the World Series called, that will keep this city thinking about him until the end. Thanks for all of the memories, HK.

Charlie Manuel, Man of Mystery

I was wide awake at 5:30 this morning. I jumped out of bed, ran downstairs, and frantically began clicking through site after site hoping to find today's lineup somewhere. No cigar. All Uncle Cholly has revealed to the press - you know, the sports bloggers that matter, is the following:

"We've got a lineup. We have a left fielder, a first baseman, a second baseman, a catcher."

Today's lineup against the Pirates doesn't really matter all that much. It'll probably be John Mayberry Jr. or Ty Wiggington at first, Freddy Galvis (or is it Galveeees?) at second, and either Juan Pierre or Layce Nix in left field if Mayberry's at first. One thing that's certain outside of the Whos, Whats, and I Don't Knows is that Doc will return to the bump at 1:35 PM.

I'm just glad that the part of my brain that gave me fuzzy, nervous Christmas morning feelings as a seven-year-old still works. Baseball's so much easier to believe in.

Happy Opening Day!

This just in:

This Just In: Professionals Still Somewhat Better Than Amateurs!

Baseball's back! In an exhibition game yesterday, the Phillies beat the Florida State Seminoles 6-1. The game was tied until the seventh inning which started with back-to-back hits by Pete Orr and Eric Kratz. Other highlights of the game included the first hit of the season for the Phillies by some dude named Tuffy Gosewisch, Hector Luna's two-run blast, and eight scoreless innings pitched by young arms hoping for AAA date cards. From the regular guys, Hunter Pence chimed in with a double in the fourth inning and Domonic Brown hit Big Truck's big truck during batting practice earlier in the day.

I know, I know. Exhibition games against college teams don't really matter to anyone outside of that young or old pitcher given a shot at the majors and the 2009 Manatee Community College baseball team that beat the Pittsburgh Pirates 6-4. I'm just happy to read a fresh box score.

Tune in this Saturday as the Phillies take on the Yankees who once played an exhibition game against my own hometown's heroes, the 1947 Waterbury Timers. It won't be '47 Phil Rizzuto, Yogi Berra, and Joltin' Joe or the '09 Manatees against Cole and the Gang, but it'll still be a good sneak peek of baseball to come!

Any predictions on who will be the team to beat in 2012? Greg Dobbs has already done J-Roll's whole "we're the team to beat" schtick which I'm pretty sure won't work twice. Leave it in the comments!

Keep On, Keep On

It's Valentine's Day. Unfortunately, not everyone's going to be receiving a Chooch valentine this year. But, hey, that's okay. Philadelphia's a land of underdogs that have been known to come back approximately two out of every three times according to the movies.

That's good news for J-Roll's pal and new Phillies reliever, Dontrelle Willis. 2003's Rookie of the Year is coming off a 1-6 season with the Reds and a 5.00 ERA. Still, D-Train was pretty good against southpaw hitters in 2011, and is another pitcher that can hit! Let's just hope that he's feeling strong now. Word is he's been down in Clearwater for weeks.

Don't be another "bum from the neighborhood" this year. When life gets you down, be like Dontrelle Willis and the city of Philadelphia.... start a soul train.

The sky is the limit and I know that you can have what you want, be what you want

Happy Valentine's Day from the ladies of Scoring Position!

Update: The D-Train has left the station.

The Learned Helplessness Theory of Being a Nationals Fan

The Nationals want to take back Citizen's Bank Park South.

Outside of the slow attempt to turn the Nationals into a "legitimate contender"/the World Fuckin' Champions of '08 (Matt Stairs, Jayson Werth, Brad Lidge, and now Chad Durbin to a minor league contract!?!), the Nationals recently launched the "Take Back the Park" campaign in an attempt to draw in as many Nationals fans as possible by restricting ticket pre-sales to their first home series against the Phils only to residents of Maryland, DC, or Virginia. Sorry, Bob Casey and everyone else in the lovely state that you represent!

Strangely enough, I first heard about the "Take Back the Park" campaign last week while at a bioethics talk titled, "Toward a 'Science' of Torture?". While the talk was about interrogation methods designed by the C.I.A. and not the psychology behind being a Nationals fan, I couldn't help but think about the Nationals every time the term "learned helplessness" was thrown around - you know, the psychological state where people feel powerless to change their situation. It didn't help that the nerdy-looking academic leading the discussion on "torture" was wearing a Phillies cap with his suit and walked in chanting "Let's go Phillies" to himself before telling the entire room about "Take Back the Park". In fact, one of the last things he said before the talk began, probably to make the room aware of his qualifications, was something along the lines of, "Well, guess what, Nationals? I am both a lifelong Phillies fan and live in DC! I'll just buy all the tickets!"

The room was silent. I looked around. I was the only person listening, let alone smiling.

While there's no need to fear that there will be a lack of Phillies fans torturing Nationals fans at this series due in large part, to this guy beating the system, it still makes you wonder if the rivalry the Nationals are trying to stir up makes any sense - that is, unless the Phillies inexplicably can't win a World Series 86 years after trading away Jayson Werth.

But, seriously, Nats, why not invest in continuing to keep your rivalry with the Orioles alive instead? If anyone needs a reason to love baseball right now, it's people from Baltimore. Plus, the Orioles-Nationals rivalry is much more well-founded. There's the annual "Beltway Series", a history of drama over the Baltimore-Washington baseball market, and the controversy over shouting O! during the national anthem.

Let's not forget the rich history of the Washington Nationals that goes all the way back to 2005. While a lot's changed since Ryan Zimmerman joined a team of displaced Canadians in our country's capital (I'm talkin' about the Expos, but this sweet picture of Pete Orr as a Natty beau seems relevant), it doesn't really compare to the history of Phillies. The Whiz kids! The Vet! The sweet memory of what bar you were in and who you high fived that fateful night in 2008! I've only been in this city for six years, and the history of baseball is somehow now intertwined with my own personal history. I'm not sure you could say the same for most Nationals fans.

Perhaps, a better question than, "Why the Phillies, Nationals?" or, "Seriously?!?" is, "What Phillies team of the past would provide a more even match-up?" After all, if anyone knows about "learned helplessness", it's Phillies fans. This probably explains why Nationals fans are being hazed to begin with.

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.

Jimmy Mack, Are You Coming Back?

Holiday shopping's in premature full swing again this year, and every mom out there's setting up camp for an All-Star shortstop. It makes you wonder. Who will be getting a 32-year-old Jimmy Rollins come winter? The Giants? The Cards? The Brewers? Can you picture J-Roll going into "beast mode"? Me neither. What about the Phillies? Unless Uncle Ruben takes a second job wrapping gifts this holiday season, chances are that Jimmy's not going to get that five-year contract he has his heart set on. If only regifting Ryan Howard was a viable option! After all, National Regifting Day is just 23 short days away.

What will Ruben Amaro do? The man's full of surprises. I didn't expect Cliff Lee to return to Philadelphia within a year of leaving or for Hunter Pence to be chilling on a dirt road anywhere outside of Texas right now. I also didn't expect Madson to be traded for a slightly more expensive Irish step dancer that refers to himself as Cinco Ocho. Okay, okay. Maybe I'm just drinking the Haterade which, thankfully, is what Papelbon's alter ego "fuels his engines with", or maybe I just hate change. Heck! I don't know what I want. The only thing that's really certain is how it's hard to picture Jimmy Rollins playing short anywhere else, and almost impossible to imagine who would replace him.

What The Ph?!!

Too heartbroken to blog: that's how I've been feeling since Friday night. It's taken days just to start thinking about it. Who would've thought it could end this way? Who would've thought that a team like this—once favorites to win the 2011 World Series—would be knocked out in the first round of the playoffs? I'll tell you who: any Philadelphia sports fan. Given Philadelphians' congenital penchant for pessimism in regard to all things (but especially sports), the Phils' steady regression since their magical 2008 championship season (lost the 2009 World Series, 2010 NLCS, and now 2011 NLDS), and the true meaning of "homefield advantage" in division series that go five games (here's a hint: the home teams usually lose), I doubt most of Philly was all that surprised. But that doesn't mean our hearts didn't break.

So what the Ph happened?!! Cliff Lee and Roy Oswalt couldn't get it done. Our bullpen (with the exception of Ryan Madson and maybe Brad Lidge) was revealed for the farce it was. After getting our hopes up that his postseason power had returned, Ryan Howard assured us we were mistaken, then ended the season in, quite literally, a crumbled heap. The squirrels of St. Louis put a curse on our bats. Someone really needs to tell the Phillies that there's no honor in playing hurt when "playing hurt" means grounding out to shortstop four times (cough cough, Placido Polanco).

Most of all, Tony La Russa and his hair solidly out-managed Charlie Manuel and his gut. Charlie played game five like he had plenty of time to spare; the Cardinals played every inning like it was their last. Charlie continued to let aging, aching players make fools of themselves at the plate while John Mayberry Jr. stood in the dugout, looking like he was about to burst into tears. As much as we love Charlie, I have to admit it would've been satisfying to wake up Saturday morning and hear he'd been fired.

The four aces may have carried this team to the best record in franchise history, but they couldn't win us a best-of-five series against the hot-hitting, Phillie-killing Cardinals. (Especially when our own pathetic offense couldn't manage to score any runs.) I can't help but think: what if we could just go back in time and lose the last game of the season to Atlanta? Did we do this to ourselves? Did we break our own hearts? And why are we going to do it again next year?


Maybe the postseason—at least in its current structure—is just a bad gauge of the actual abilities of a baseball team. Our 102 wins should be able to speak for themselves. Not that telling ourselves that is going to make our hearts any less broken.