2020: MLB Unmasked

 

The true creed of this nation has always been: value the dollar over the individual. Major League Baseball followed that creed to the letter in 2020.

As we all remember, professional sports were forced to shut down in March due to the coronavirus pandemic. The virus raged on until mid-May, when the number of new cases began to drop. That’s when the haggling began.

MLB put together a plan for a shortened season, but its salary proposal to the players union was immediately rejected. The two sides argued back and forth for weeks until MLB finally agreed to the union’s demand that the players earn a prorated salary based on the length of the shortened season. Sixty regular season games were scheduled, so all players (except those lucky few who were owed a club option in their contract for 2020) would make roughly 37 percent of their 2020 salaries. However, the players actually made much less than 37 percent, because the $170 million advance they collectively received from MLB back in April could only be kept if the 2020 season was cancelled completely.

I know you’re probably thinking that anyone getting paid in the seven-to-eight-figure range has no right to complain, but keep in mind that a large chunk of players aren’t actually millionaires (i.e. - bench players, middle relievers and virtually everyone who’s been in the league less than three years). I admit that the squabbling between the league and players came off as petty, but there’s an overlying reality that leaves me emphatically siding against the league and owners.

I personally felt like MLB should have canceled the season outright back in March. Unlike the NBA and NHL, baseball did not have the luxury of placing all 30 teams in a single quarantined area to play a shortened season, and anyone who paid even the slightest attention to the CDC and NIAID Director Dr. Fauci knew that the reprieve from the pandemic was only temporary.

Predictably, by the time the season began on July 24, the second wave of the virus swept across the nation at double the intensity of the first. Within the first few weeks, the Miami Marlins and St. Louis Cardinals both suffered COVID-19 outbreaks that each infected more than a dozen players and staff. Each team was forced to take a week off and play out their 60-game schedules with a grueling stretch of doubleheaders. This was exactly why the season was postponed in the first place.

A few players decided on their own to sit out the entire season due to the pandemic, and I salute them. Given how virulent this virus is, if you’re not doing everything you can to prevent exposure, both for your and everyone around you, you’re making it worse. The one thing MLB got right was not allowing any fans in the stands during the regular season, but I personally feel that it was the league’s human obligation to stand up and say, “There will be no baseball in 2020. We refuse to put our fans or our players in harm’s way.” The only professional sport more profitable than baseball is football, so they could’ve withstood the financial blow of a season-long lockout. Hell, that already happened to the NBA and the NHL. But in the true American capitalist tradition, MLB let money dictate its decisions.

Due to my strong feelings on this issue, I barely watched any baseball until the World Series. I could not support the game I loved being played in such horrible circumstances. I can’t remember the last time I went a whole spring and summer without it, and that’s probably why I’m so baseball crazy now.

MLB’s gamble paid off in the end, so I’m sure baseball will return for a full season in 2021. With sanity and basic human decency returning to White House in a few weeks and vaccines being widely distributed, I’ll feel better about watching as well.

A big thank you to everyone who read my latest ramblings. Happy New Year, and let’s all hope for a safer and happier 2021!

Take the Bad with the Good

Part 4 of a four-part series on the 1993 Phillies

 

Now it is time to address the elephant in the room.

The 1993 Phillies never claimed to be a group of upstanding citizens. On the contrary, they played up their rough-around-the-edges appearance to the fans and the media. At the time, their antics were sheer entertainment, but a few players were hiding skeletons in their closets, which they eventually released for all to see.

I talked about the ’93 Phils a fair amount in my book, and I must admit that I made one claim that was factually inaccurate, and evidence to the contrary was already available. I wrote that despite the steroids scandal that rocked the sport, the ’93 Phillies played the game in its purest form. Lenny Dykstra alone disproves that claim.

I won’t get into all of the financial and legal troubles Dykstra has faced over the last several years, but I will say that he did not play the game cleanly; far from it. First, both he and backup catcher Todd Pratt were named in the infamous Mitchell Report that was released in 2007. Dkystra then stated in interviews that he used steroids, beginning in 1990, because he realized his skills were diminishing, and he had a family to support.

More recently, Dykstra claimed that in 1993 he paid private investigators $500,000 to dig up dirt on umpires so that they would give him a more favorable strike zone. Dykstra said that’s why he led the league in walks that year, and the numbers seem to support that. His total of 129 was far and away the best he ever posted in a single season. His walk numbers in other years didn’t even come close, even when you take into account seasons in which he missed time due to injury.

Since I’ve been re-watching games from 1993, I’ve scrutinized nearly every Dykstra at-bat to see if I could tell a difference between the strike zone umpires gave him in comparison to other players. It was very difficult, though, because John Kruk and Darren Daulton walked so much themselves.

Speaking of “Dutch” Daulton, he was asked in a 2009 interview if he used steroids during his career. He somewhat dodged the question but said, “I can assure you, there’s probably no one in any sport that has taken more drugs than I have.” Based on that, we can’t say for sure if Daulton took steroids, but chances are, he was on some kind of illegal substance during the 1993 season.

Let’s consider that in ’93, Dykstra was 30 and Daulton was 31. Most major league players begin to decline after the age of 27 (the age Dykstra was when he allegedly began taking steroids), and yet the two of them were still performing at a high level. I’d say Daulton was even more suspect than Dykstra because he was a catcher, and by the early 90s had been through several knee surgeries. In ’93, he set career highs in games and at-bats, and he was sprinting around the bases better than most catchers in the game. Considering his later admission, it doesn’t look good.

Dutch was my favorite player on that team simply because he was a better hitter than most catchers, and I was definitely sad when he passed away at the age of 55 from brain cancer. Unlike Dykstra, Daulton owned up to all the mistakes he made when he was younger, and he moved on from them. It’s still a shame that some of those transgressions cast a dark shadow on one of the most exciting seasons in team history.

I’m not going to pretend that Dykstra, Daulton and Pratt were the only ones cheating to gain a competitive edge on the Phillies in 1993. Not everyone who cheated got caught. But I also can’t say that this really changes all the good feelings I have about that team. I know the era in which they played, and I know they were far from the only ones breaking the rules behind closed doors. I refuse to feel sorry for the 10-year-old me who watched that team ascend to heights no one expected, and they taught me to love the game of baseball. I will forever be grateful for that.

Philly Fluke

Part 3 of a four-part series on the 1993 Phillies

 

How the hell were they so good?!

I tried to search online for any other “one-hit wonder” MLB teams, but the only results were articles/posts about players who had one good season. A deeper search revealed that the Kansas City Royals had just one winning season between 1994 and 2013, which came in 2003, but they finished just four games over .500 that year. That’s quite different from a pennant-winning campaign. The 1993 Phillies were an anomaly of historic proportions, and I will try to explain how that happened.

For context, we need to look at 1992. The Phillies limped their way through a 70-92 season, but they were actually significantly better than that record. On the offensive side, they placed second in the National League in runs and third in home runs. The nucleus of Lenny Dykstra, John Kruk and Darren Daulton was already established, and Dave Hollins emerged as well. The ’92 team also had two solid starting pitchers in Terry Mulholland and Curt Schilling. The front office definitely had foundation from which to build heading into 1993.

A fair amount of luck was involved as well. The Pittsburgh Pirates dismantled their powerhouse team, and the Atlanta Braves were still a year away from joining a realigned NL East. As far as the pundits were concerned, the division was up for grabs, but no one was predicting a first-place finish from the ragtag Phillies.

The best way to describe the 1993 season is that the Phillies entered what I’m labeling a “Trisection of Success.” That year, the team was comprised of three different groups: new players, players who had their career year and players in their last full season. This flash-in-the-pan bunch brought all the right ingredients together at once.

The organization was busy in the offseason, adding an incredible six players who all had key roles during the ’93 season: starting pitcher Danny Jackson, outfielders Jim Eisenreich, Milt Thompson and Pete Incaviglia and relief pitchers David West and Larry Andersen, the latter two providing desperately-needed stability to the bullpen. The Phillies don’t win the division without those six guys, and they not only produced, but they bought into the crazy clubhouse culture. The 40-year-old Andersen and his unique sense of humor fit in particularly well with a group that was notorious for its practical jokes and hijinks.

West joined a group of career-year players that included Dykstra, Mulholland, Tommy Greene and Ben Rivera. With the latter three excelling at once, you suddenly had the most stable starting pitching rotation in baseball. Not only did all five starters reach double-digit wins (no Phillies team had done that since 1932, and no other team did that in ‘93), but they all had winning records and each recorded at least one shutout. They also led the league in complete games with 24, and the pitching staff as a whole placed first in strikeouts with 1,117. That alone is mind boggling, and I haven’t even talked about the offense yet.

The ’93 Phillies, likely more by accident than design, produced numbers championed by Bill James nearly 10 years before Billy Beane’s “Moneyball” A’s changed the baseball landscape. They led the NL in runs, walks, doubles, on-base percentage, on-base plus slugging percentage (OPS) and OPS+. They also led the league in home runs for most of the season before a power drought in September. Walks were the hallmark of the offense. This team walked A LOT. The Phillies’ 665 walks were well above the runner-up Cardinals’ 588. Not even a pitcher like Greg Maddux, known for his surgeon-like precision, made it through a game against this lineup without surrendering a free pass or two.

A big reason for the Phillies’ base-on-balls prowess was that their lineup of mostly left-handed batters did not fall victim to a trap typically laid for lefty hitters - the breaking ball low and away (a trap Ryan Howard fell for more and more as his career progressed). You could almost see Kruk and Daulton give smirking, ‘nice try’ expressions as they’d watch those breaking balls fall harmlessly into the catcher’s glove out of the strike zone. The ’93 Phillies set a National League record, becoming the first team to feature three players - Dykstra, Kruk and Daulton - with at least 100 walks.

No one knew it at the time, but 1993 also wound up being the last hurrah for several players. Dykstra, Kruk, Daulton, Greene, Rivera and Mitch Williams never played a full season again after 1993, and Hollins didn't until after he was traded in 1995. Another major reason for the team’s success was that no one spent significant time on the Disabled List (now known as the Injured List). You could even see during that year how the season might have unfolded without that stability. The Phils hit a bad stretch in the early summer at the same time that Hollins and Mariano Duncan were injured, and their other dip in mid-September happened when Mulholland was shelved. No one denies the amazing team chemistry that group had, but they needed all 25 guys healthy to succeed, and for the most part, that’s what they got.

One last thing I will say about the ’93 team is that man, did those players hustle! Up and down that lineup, guys constantly took the extra base, especially in the first half of the season. It got to a point when if there was a runner on second, he was going home on a single, no matter what, and he made it nearly every time. That’s why they wore pitchers out all year. They’d work deep counts, draw walks and fly around the bases. It was so much fun to watch.

It’s a shame that the Phillies’ moment in the spotlight was so brief. Even if the 1994 season hadn’t ended in August with the strike, the Expos and Braves would have battled for the division title, leaving everyone else in the dust. The 1995 Phillies gave fans a thrill with a 37-18 start, but a pitching rotation full of rookies and a collection of position players well past their prime could not sustain that success. It was clear that the team had to break down and start again.

At least we had 1993. Had everything not come together just right, it could have easily been 15 straight years of losing seasons. The long-suffering fans got a brief respite, and I believe we’re all the better for it. I certainly know that I am.

Now and Then

Part 2 of a 4-part series on the 1993 Phillies

 

Fans my age and older well remember that whacky bunch of players that defied all expectations by winning the National League pennant and coming within two games of winning the World Series. That special group only lived to play baseball and have a good time, capturing the hearts and minds of a city well known for its blue-collar mentality.

As both the ’93- and ’08-era teams drift further and further into the past, I find myself feeling much more nostalgic about the ’93 team. The memories aren’t nearly as vivid because I was only 10 and didn’t understand the game as well as I would later, but that team taught me to love baseball. Plus, great events in life are more revered when they’re unexpected. That team literally came from out of nowhere and faded just as quickly. I will now share some observations I formed as a green kid, alongside changing opinions and different things I’ve noticed while watching this team again over the past few weeks.

When I was 10, I always deferred to the players who hit the most home runs, so it annoyed me when Milt Thompson and Jim Eisenreich were put in the lineup more than Pete Incaviglia and Wes Chamberlain. Of course, I understand now that the left-handed Thompson and Eisenreich were typically used against right-handed starting pitchers. They were also better outfielders. I love Incaviglia and his monster home runs as much now as I did then, but I can’t get enough of Eisenreich. The guy sprayed the ball all over the place, making it a nightmare for opposing teams to defend against him. He unassumingly went about his business, quietly becoming one of the Phillies’ best hitters of the 1990s, and who doesn’t love a good comeback story like his? When he was diagnosed with Tourette’s Syndrome, he initially felt his baseball career was over, but after receiving the proper treatment, he fought his way back. I don’t think I knew what Tourette’s was before I learned about Eisenreich.

I’m also realizing that Eisenreich was one of the few hitters who didn’t prolong the game by trouncing well outside the batter’s box after every pitch. Instead, he would simply retreat a few steps to the back corner of the box while staring intently down the third-base line until the pitcher returned to the rubber. He was an all-around model of efficiency.

Moving onto other players, another habit I’ve noticed is that during every game, starting pitcher Curt Schilling was perched on the top step of the dugout and always the first to congratulate anyone who scored a run. That makes him appear like the ultimate teammate, but given everything else I’ve learned about Schilling in the years since, he was probably doing it just to look good in front of the camera. Schilling evolved into one of the best pitchers of his generation after leaving the Phillies in 2000, but his outspoken, ultra-right views that at best border on homophobia and xenophobia have turned him into a villain. The seeds of this persona were actually planted in 1993 when cameras caught Schilling with his head buried in a towel when closer Mitch “Wild Thing” Williams was on the mound. Schilling claimed it was a joke, and the fans and media accepted it as such, but Williams was not amused, and it drove a wedge between the two that has never been removed.

As the ’93 season came to a close, I was surprised that John Kruk only hit 14 home runs. I simply assumed that because he was a bigger guy, he was a home run hitter. Of course, I know now that bigger does not necessarily mean stronger, and Kruk was most known for his patience at the plate and hitting for a high average. If anything, he was the Phillies version of Tony Gwynn, Kruk’s former teammate when he was with Padres. The beer-drinking, mullet-wearing country boy from West Virginia often liked to play the fool for the media, but there were actually few in the game who studied it and understood it more than he did. Kruk did reach the 20-homer mark twice in his career, but by ’93, all that constant running on Astroturf began giving him chronic knee problems that would sadly result in his retirement two years later. And actually, if we’re to believe his claim that he rarely worked out, then it’s a miracle he played until he was 34.

Kruk was just one of dozens of miracles to happen for the Phillies in ’93. I’m loving the experience of this crazy team’s Cinderella season, where for six months, everything that could go right did go right. Consider the unbelievable fact that 1993 was the only year between 1986 and 2001 in which the Phillies posted a winning season, and they went all the way to the friggin’ World Series! I doubt we’ll see anything like it again. In my next post, I will delve into how that happened.

Friendly Voices

I would now like to focus on the 1993 Phillies. This will be the first of a four-part series.

I have spent the last several weeks watching Phillies games from 1993 on YouTube. The odd thing is that I will end up watching more games from that season than I did when they were played because in 1993, my family didn’t have Prism, the TV station that carried 40-45 of the Phillies' games. I’d obviously forgotten nearly all of the games before I began re-watching them, and I’ve taken great pains to avoid looking at the final scores. I wanted as authentic an experience as possible. As expected, the picture quality isn’t great because the games were transferred from VHS, but they still oddly feel recent because the players wore very similar home uniforms that the Phillies wear today during non-weekend games (a classic pinstripe look that debuted in 1992). The road uniforms were the same as well.

Of course, the best part of this return to the past is hearing Harry Kalas and Richie “Whitey” Ashburn call the games. I personally only heard Whitey’s voice for five years before he died in 1997, but it sounds as familiar as it did back then. I will spend the rest of this post sharing some interesting realizations about the broadcast team, both from 1993 and now. In my next post, I will do the same with the players.

I heard color commentator, Chris “Wheels” Wheeler, several times before I saw him on camera, and it blew my mind how old he looked (he was 48 at the time) because I thought he sounded so young on the air. I also finally understand why so many people didn’t like Wheels. I still appreciate his commentary for the most part, but listening to him now, I can tell he was clearly a know-it-all who talked too much. It was especially noticeable when he was in the booth with Whitey, because as we all remember, Whitey was a man of few words. I didn’t much care for Andy Musser, the lesser-seen fourth member of the broadcast team, but I don’t mind him nearly as much now. He sounded too much like a news anchor (like Tom McCarthy), but I see now that he was a solid play-by-play announcer.

And then there’s Harry. My high opinion of him has never wavered over the past 27 years. He had so many catchphrases that it’s difficult to keep track, and I always hope a Phillie will do something amazing so I can hear that magical voice raise with excitement. In those moments, he knew the right words to use to get me even more excited. During this long re-watch, every time I’ve clicked on a new game, I’ve hoped it’s a WPHL 17 game so that I can hear Harry call it. He was quite simply the best at what he did.

Harry and the other guys had plenty of opportunities to yell with excitement during that amazing season. I didn’t think I would enjoy watching these games as much as I have. After all, everyone knows how well the Phillies did. But watching familiar players performing at the top of their game, even if it was nearly three decades ago, somehow never gets old. Who knows; I might do this again in another 30 years on whatever advanced medium is around then.

Little League Legends

I never had a future as a baseball player. I had convinced myself of that as a child, and when I did play any kind of organized ball, I didn’t put in the necessary work to be the very best I could be as a short kid with poor eyesight. If I had, I believe now I could have been a bench player at the varsity level in high school at the very least. Still, not every attempt at playing was a disappointment.

My best experience by far was the Little League team I played for when I was in seventh grade. I was the third baseman (in homage to Phillies legend Mike Schmidt) and the oldest player on my team, which actually made it easier for me to get along with everyone. I wasn’t the best player, but I was certainly in the middle of the pack. That group was full of quirky characters, not the least of whom was our coach, Larry, a short, hot-headed man. Despite his tendency to yell, he was mainly very nice and encouraging. Plus, I never suffered his wrath, which he reserved for his son, Kyle, our team’s catcher, whenever he began crying after striking out.

The only other kid Coach Larry yelled at was Lucky, our enigmatic right fielder. The rest of us on the team avoided him because he didn’t seem to have a whole lot going on upstairs (I later found that was not the case at all). He didn’t pay attention during practice or even during games, as he was more interested in the state of the grass he was standing on. I can still hear Coach Larry yelling at him from the dugout, “Lucky! Stop pickin’ the flowers!” The rest of us tried our best to stifle our laughter during those moments. I think Lucky’s reputation even spread around the league. There was a strict rule against sliding headfirst, but in Lucky’s most triumphant moment of the season, he basically belly-flopped into home, kicking up a cloud of dust that completely enveloped him. Once the fog lifted, the umpire called him safe. Any other player in that situation would’ve been called out for breaking the rules, but it was Lucky.

I actually reconnected with Lucky 15 years later, and he told me that he acted aloof on purpose because his mother had signed him up for baseball against his extreme objections. Adding that context just makes those memories funnier.

Our first baseman, Jeff, was the largest 11-year-old kid I’d ever seen. I also remember him because of his grandmother, who attended every game and yelled in shaky, mousy voice, “Little hit, Jeff, little hit,” every time he came up to bat. Not only was the cheer annoying, but it was ironic because slugger Jeff was the only player on our team to hit the ball over the fence during the season.

We weren’t the best team in our league, but we won more games than we lost, and our absolute best game was toward the end of the season. We fell behind early, 13-3, but we made a furious comeback. I contributed to the surge with a two-run double, but Kyle punctuated it with a pair of inside-the-park grand slams in back-to-back at-bats. I think we were further spurred on after Coach Larry got thrown out by the home plate umpire after arguing vehemently that I checked my swing on a strike-three call. We went into the bottom of the last inning trailing by just one run, 19-18. We were still down a run with the bases loaded and two outs when I stepped to the plate. A sudden pain in my wrist made me skittish about swinging, but luckily, the opposing pitcher was wild, and I drew a walk to tie the game. We then won the game in the craziest way, as the batter behind me, Troy, was struck in the foot for a walk-off hit-by-pitch! I’ll never forget watching that ball curve downward and hit Troy’s left cleat with an anti-climactic thud. He shrugged his shoulders and trotted to first, and then we went crazy after the winning run crossed the plate.

That game and that season remain highlights of my childhood, and my parents and I still mention several classic memories from that team, which, of course, always end in laughter.

note: Simply because I revealed the outcome of every one of my at-bats in that crazy game in my journal back in 1995, I’ll share here that I went 2-for-3 at the plate with a single, a double, two walks, three RBI and a run scored. I didn’t write about any defensive plays in that game, but I can tell you that three days before, I caught a pop up, and then I caught a line drive before doubling off the runner at second all in the same inning. It was the only double play I participated in all season. J

A Phanatic, A Shallow Thought, A Non-Insult

My love of baseball has allowed me to meet some colorful characters over the years and put me in some interesting situations. I’d like to share a few of those with you.

 

A lot of people don’t know this about me, but I absolutely love the Phillie Phanatic. I was naturally a huge fan of the loveable and hilarious green creature when I was a kid, but I never got to see him up close. That dream finally came true in 2009.

In the winter following the Phillies’ World Series title, the championship trophy was sent on a tour around the region so that fans could see it. At the time, I was a sports writer for the Gettysburg Times, and my editor was nice enough to assign me the story when the trophy made a stop in town that February. I obviously would have gone anyway, but this allowed me to get in for free and skip the line. It was also my first chance to cover an official event by the team I loved and had been supporting for nearly 20 years.

The cherry on top was getting my picture taken in front of the trophy, standing next to the Phanatic. He happily gave me a high five as I approached him for the photo. The sound of my hand hitting his…um…wing made a funny thud.

The Phanatic provided non-stop entertainment in that ballroom, of course. He stuck out his party-favor tongue for anyone who crossed his path, and the catering staff was so enamored by his antics that they all posed for a photo with him.

That was a magical afternoon, and I would get to have many more interactions with the Phanatic in the following years. Obviously, none of those held a candle to the first time.

 

Another Phillies personality I’ve gotten to meet multiple times is former relief pitcher and radio broadcaster, Larry Andersen. I received his autograph at a game in 1994, his last season as a player, and then 18 years later, he chose me to ask manager Charlie Manuel a question at a media luncheon. In 2013, I went to Fan Photo Day at Citizens Bank Park, where I basically met every member of the team, including the coaching and media staffs. I personally got a photo taken with Cole Hamels, and when ‘LA’ came by, I coyly asked him if he had a “Shallow Thought for the day,” like the late, great Harry Kalas used to do when they were broadcast partners in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Without missing a beat, he responded in his classic deadpan delivery, “We all know the speed of light, but what’s the speed of dark?”

I also had some fun with a Phillies player that day. When Delmon Young (remember when he was a Phillie??) made his way to me, I decided that I was going to flip the cliché home run request on its head. I told him I was sitting in the 400 section behind home plate and asked if he could hit a foul ball to me. He chuckled somewhat nervously and said, “Ok.” Sadly, Young was not able to fulfill my request. Oh well.

This last story is pretty short, but I know I’ll be telling it for years. Last year, I went to a Phillies game with some friends, and the one friend who secured the tickets managed to get us seats behind home plate only several rows up from the field. I took great delight in cheering and heckling louder than I ever had before. Another bonus about sitting that close is you might see a famous baseball face. A few innings into the game, I did a double-take when I realized that former, disgraced Phillies General Manager, Ruben Amaro, Jr., had taken a seat directly across the aisle. I believe at this point, he was a scout for the Mets. Over the next few innings, I worked up the nerve to say something to him, and when I got up to head for concessions, I extended my hand and thanked him emphatically for bringing Cliff Lee back to Philly in 2011. He accepted the handshake but gave me a bewildered look. I’m assuming he either thought I was being sarcastic or that I was drunk. My compliment may have been a tad in jest, but I was sincerely happy that he re-signed Cliff Lee a year after letting him walk. It was probably the only thing Amaro did right while he was GM.

The Roads Less Traveled, Part 2

Yankees and Red Sox Road Trip, July/August 2012: My then-wife and I were getting pretty adventurous with our vacations. We decided to spend a few days in New York, a few more days in Connecticut and end the trip with a few days in Boston. She wasn’t a big baseball fan, so you can imagine how surprised I was when she agreed to go to games at the new Yankee Stadium AND Fenway Park. Then again, marriage is all about compromise.

 

July 29: I proudly walked into Yankee Stadium wearing a Phillies shirt, expecting to get needled relentlessly by New York’s notorious fans. I was both disappointed and relieved that aside from one snide comment, I was completely left alone. The Yankees were hosting the Red Sox in a Sunday night ESPN game, so the tension and anticipation in the ballpark were palpable. I had always hated the Yankees, and I still do to this day, but something unexpected happened during the game. I got the sense that these fans, while abrasive and loud, loved their team and knew their team. It was a level of passion I hadn’t even felt at Phillies games. As the game began, I couldn’t help but notice the father and son who sat just to my left. The father was teaching his son about the players and what was happening on the field, just like my dad did two decades before. Though he and I were clearly on opposing sides, the father and I gained a mutual respect for one another as the game progressed. It went to extra innings with the Yanks and Sox deadlocked, 2-2, but my wife, her friend and I left after the ninth to avoid the subway rush after the game (the Sox would go on to win 3-2). As we got up from our seats and the father got up to let us pass, he and I actually engaged in a brief man hug and wished each other a good night. Here I was, embracing a Yankees fan at a Yankees game! It was actually the most positive fan interaction I’ve ever experienced with a stranger at a baseball game. That sure was a life lesson I’ll never forget.

August 2: The polar opposite occurred four days later in Boston, which is a shame because for years I’d dreamed of going to Fenway Park. The stadium itself was beautiful, but the hard seats were very uncomfortable, and the passionate vibe I’d felt at the Yankees game was replaced with bitterness. The Red Sox were in the midst of a disastrous season under manager Bobby Valentine, who lasted just that one year. The fans were not happy, and that contempt hung heavy around the ballpark. The Sox didn’t help, getting blanked 5-0 by the Twins, a team with a record even worse than Boston. My wife and I were so happy to get out of there. I used to like the Red Sox, especially when they stuck it to the Yankees in the 2004 ALCS, but this game began a turnaround in my thinking. I came the rest of the way after their sign stealing scandal and the fans hurling racial slurs at Orioles outfielder, Adam Jones. Now, I’m actually looking forward to my next trip to Yankees Stadium, but I don’t know if I’ll ever return to Fenway.

 

One final thing I will say about Yankee Stadium and Fenway is that traversing the interior of both is like walking through a museum. The venues pay wonderful homage to the long and celebrated histories of their franchises. They belong high on the bucket list of any serious fan.

The Roads Less Traveled

As I stated in my first post of this series, I’ve gone to five major league games that didn’t feature the Phillies or the Orioles. I’d like to talk about those games in more detail, as each one was unique. This post will cover the first three games.

 

Mariners @ Cardinals, July 4, 2004: Back in my college days, I was a member of a community service organization called Circle K (the college level of the more familiar Kiwanis). I attended its International Convention in St. Louis, and it marked the first time in my life that I ventured west of the Mississippi River. In the weeks leading up to the big event, members from the Kansas District of Circle K sent a message to all of the convention attendees, inviting anyone who was interested to join them at a Cardinals-Mariners game, taking place directly after hotel checkout on the convention’s final day. Of the hundreds of people who received that invitation, I was the only one to accept. It helped that me and several other members from my home district were staying in St. Louis an extra night.

I met five or six people from the Kansas District, all of them very funny and personable, and we took the short walk to the old Busch Stadium, which was in its final year before the new and current Busch Stadium replaced it. Our seats were in the second-to-last row of the upper deck, but given how hot it was outside, we felt fortunate to sit in the shade. As I was in their home ballpark, and I still heavily favored the National League over the American League at this point in my life, I rooted for the Cardinals, who beat the Mariners, 2-1. However, I also still harbored bitter feelings toward former Phillie, Scott Rolen, so while I cheered for every other Cardinal when they came up to bat, I booed Rolen. He clearly couldn’t hear me from that high in the stratosphere, as he collected two hits and drove in a run. This was the first of four times that I would see the legendary Ichiro Suzuki at a game, and though I didn’t know it at the time, he was in the middle of a historic season that would see him break George Sisler’s all-time record for hits in a season with 262. I saw one of those hits that day. By the way, St. Louis is a cool city, and if you haven’t been, I’d recommend it, especially during July 4th when you’ll see one of the best fireworks displays ever. They’re shot from a ferry on the Mississippi, and if you watch from the Illinois side, the Gateway Arch provides the perfect backdrop.

 

Marlins @ Mets, July 2, 2005: A friend and I had discussed going to a Mets game numerous times, and after four years, we finally pulled it off. Unfortunately, the day was not without its trials and tribulations. I overslept and I got lost trying to find my friend’s house in northern New Jersey. This was, of course, during the days before GPS became widely available. When I finally arrived, we got sidetracked by conversation, as we hadn’t seen each other in more than a year. And with the notorious New York traffic, it took us an hour to get to Queens. By the time we finally got to our seats inside Shea Stadium, the game was already in the bottom of the sixth inning. The Marlins would go on to win 7-3, but that barely seemed to matter. Personally, I was just thrilled to be in the same place The Beatles performed for the first time 40 years earlier. I kept looking just beyond second base, picturing the band on their makeshift stage. I have yet to return to New York to see the Mets, who now play at Citi Field, but I will someday, and I’ll make sure to get there on time.

 

Indians @ Twins, April 20, 2008: As many of you know, I lived in South Dakota for two years after I graduated from college. I can’t say I enjoyed my time out there that much, but the one thing it allowed me to do was attend a Minnesota Twins game, which I did with my fiancée at the time and a friend. Minnesota was one of the last teams in the majors at this point that still played in a cavernous, cookie cutter-style stadium with an Astroturf field, so as we entered the Metrodome, it felt like I’d stepped back in time to the 1980s. The stadium’s domed roof made it more eerie. I had never watched a baseball game indoors, and it almost didn’t feel like I was at a baseball game. Still, I had become familiar with the Twins over the previous year, and I even got to interview their manager, Ron Gardenhire, three months earlier when he and a few other members of the organization visited my town. I was happy to cheer on the home team, and first baseman Justin Morneau made it even more memorable. The game went into extra innings, tied 1-1, and in the bottom of the 10th, Morneau hit a walk-off single to win the game. It was an unlikely hit as well, as Morneau managed to hit a sharp ground ball past the defensive shift on the right side of the infield. After 18 years of going to major league games, that was the first walk-off hit I’d ever seen. Two years later, the Twins would join the 21st century, moving into their new stadium, Target Field.

Part 2 of this series will feature a baseball road trip of sorts to New York and Boston. Stay tuned!

Whack Stats

Fair warning: this one is for the stat nerds!

After counting all the major league games I went to over the years, I decided to go deeper. When you attend multiple games over a relatively short span, you see the same players several times. I wondered how well those players did in those games. Most of them did as well as one might expect over a much larger sample size, but the randomness of only a few dozen at-bats bore some quirky, funny results as well. Case in point: Wes Chamberlain.

Chamberlain was a minor, but important piece of those Philly teams of the early 90s. He was a backup right fielder who was mainly put in the starting lineup against left-handed pitchers, though he always tended to put on a show when I turned up at the ballpark. Of 18 at-bats I saw, Chamberlain batted a prodigious .500 with three home runs and 10 RBI. Of course, this data is skewed because my dad and I happened to be there for the best game of Chamberlain’s career. On July 31, 1991, he went 4-for-4 with two three-run homers, which I talked about in my book. He’s just one of two players I’ve seen homer twice in a game (Chris Davis being the other). Younger fans won’t even know who Chamberlain is, but he made sure I’d never forget him.

I’ve seen the 2008-era Phillies more than any other incarnation of the team, which isn’t surprising. The leaders of the pack here are Chase Utley (57 AB) and Shane Victorino (43 AB), who each hit above .300 and swatted a pair of home runs. Victorino was also the only other player besides Chamberlain to reach double-digit RBI with 10. I’ve got to give the “feast or famine” prize to Raul Ibanez. He had just five hits in 25 at-bats, but three of them were for extra bases, and he drove in nine runs. The biggest of those hits was a grand slam in the division-clinching game in 2011 that I was lucky enough to see with my friend, Bill P., the biggest Phillies fan I know.

At the other end of the spectrum, the “worst player” award goes to Phillies former third baseman Maikel Franco. He hit just .111 (5-for-45), with his one saving grace being a grand slam that Dad and I saw in 2015.

As for pitching, there’s a lot less data, as starters only pitch every fifth day. The top prize here undoubtedly goes to the late Roy Halladay. I saw Doc pitch three masterful games, all in 2011. He won all three, posting an ERA of 1.88. He struck out 22 in 24 innings and walked just three batters. Halladay sadly passed away three years ago, but man, did he ever leave his mark in both Toronto and Philadelphia.

Cole Hamels is the only pitcher I’ve seen more than three times, and he is an easy runner-up to Doc, going 2-1 with a 3.12 ERA. He struck out 28 in 26 innings and walked nine. He is now the only player from that 2008 championship team still playing in the big leagues, and I hope he pitches his way right into the Hall of Fame.

After looking at all of the numbers, I decided to make a Top Performers team. I swear I picked them at random, but when I was finished, I realized I had exactly 10 players. With some minor adjustments, I was actually able to make a full starting lineup! You’ll note the inclusion of three Orioles players of whom I saw a fair amount from 2012-2015:

Now just a few random thoughts about games I’ve attended over the years:

- I never saw home runs by Darren Daulton, Dave Hollins, John Kruk, Lenny Dykstra, Scott Rolen, Bobby Abreu, Pat Burrell or Jimmy Rollins.

- I never saw Randy Wolf, Jamie Moyer or Brett Myers pitch.

- I’ve never seen the Phillies score 10 or more runs at a game. They’ve scored 9 four times.

- The only time I’ve seen ANY teams score in double digits at a game was a Phillies 13-2 loss to the Blue Jays in 2016 and an 11-3 win by the Orioles over the Yankees in 2013. Considering how much I hate the Yankees, that was one of the sweetest games I’ve ever attended. On two other occasions, I left the game before the 10th run was scored.

- The only walk-off home run I’ve seen at a game was by Freddy Galvis against Aroldis Chapman in 2013.

- Most combined runs at a game: 16 (a 9-7 Phillies home-opening win over the Mets in 2000).

For those non-baseball fans reading this blog, the next few posts will be more to your liking. They're filled with funny and interesting memories of mine. They will obviously still be baseball-focused, but less numbers. :-)

Looking Back

In these trying times of a global pandemic, when the social calendar is much emptier than usual, I felt it was time to dust off an old friend.

As you all know, I’m a baseball nut, and my love of the game has only increased with age. Several years ago, I poured that love into a blog series about my dad and the Phillies, which I then turned into a book. Many thanks to all of you who bought it!

With the extra time on my hands this year and a shortened major league season that was understandably played with no fans allowed at the ballparks, I began to take a deeper look at the role baseball played in my life. How fitting that 2020 marked 30 years since the very first major league game I attended.

I went back through the years to try and track down every major league game I watched from the stands, using the always-reliable source of baseball-reference.com. This was obviously the most difficult in the early years, and I would not be surprised if there is a game or two that have completely escaped my memory. Two others, one from 1992 and another from 1993, were educated guesses that I was 80-percent sure about. 

I’m also not certain if I got every game that I went to in 2013 and 2014, the two years I didn’t write regularly in my journal that I’ve kept since I was 10. I had to rely on my own vanity for those years, as I tended to post a photo of the ballpark on social media the same day I attended a game. Facebook can still be awesome once in a while.

Ok, it’s numbers time! I’m sure only 2-3 other people will find these interesting, but as I said way back in my first post 10 years ago, this is my blog. I can do what I want! ;-)

Phillies record in games I attended: 25-25

Record at Veterans Stadium (1990-2003): 6-7

Record at Citizens Bank Park (2004-2019): 16-17

Record in other stadiums: 3-1

Orioles record in games I attended* (1997-2018): 7-7

*all at Camden Yards

It’s pretty funny that both the Phillies and Orioles records came out to exactly .500. Unless you’re a fan of perennial division leaders (i.e. - Yankees, Dodgers) or basement dwellers (i.e. - Marlins, Mariners), I would imagine your numbers would be very similar. Naturally, the Phillies got a lot of those wins in bunches during periods when they were playing well. They won all three games I went to in 1993, the year they shocked everyone and made it to the World Series. In the 10 Phillies games I attended in 2011-12, they won nine of them.

2011 was also the year that saw a surge in my attendance overall. I’m not sure if I could even call myself a die-hard fan before then. I’ve attended just 68 big league games in my life, but 41 of those have come in the past nine years. 

All but five of those 68 games featured either the Phillies are Orioles (in one, they played each other), so even after 30 years, there are five major league teams I’ve never seen in person: Cubs, Diamondbacks, White Sox, A’s and Angels. Of course, before COVID struck, I was planning a crazy baseball trip to Chicago that would have scratched the Cubs and Sox off my list. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for next year.

Exactly half of those 50 Phillies games I saw with dear, old Dad, and when you add in three Orioles games, I’ve attended more games with him (28) than anyone else by far. I’ve also gone to 11 Phillies games with my long-time friend, Bill G., a fellow dedicated fan who joined Dad and I at the Phillies’ World Series parade in 2008. Baseball games are fun no matter what, but they’re even more enjoyable when you go with go with other baseball fans. They cheer just as loudly and are just as familiar with the players on the field. It’s unique kind of camaraderie that keeps me coming back season after season.

I’ve compiled quite a lot of numbers and memories, only a fraction of which I’ve shared here, so stayed tuned for future posts. And who knows? Maybe by the end, some of you will be encouraged to put together your own crazy baseball lists!