A Year To Remember

Phillies Opening Day - April 3, 2021
(frontline workers honored)

2021 was both my best and my worst year as a Phillies fan.

Before the season began, I was chomping at the bit to go to a live, professional baseball game. We had been denied that glorious experience the year before when the coronavirus pandemic shut down the world. My last game was in July, 2019. That felt like a lifetime ago.

I began buying tickets with reckless abandon. By season’s end, I had attended nine Phillies games and 12 major league games overall in four different stadiums. I also added three minor league games to the mix. By the summer, ballparks returned to full seating capacity, and those of us who were vaccinated gladly ditched the masks.

All was not rosy outside of baseball land, however, as my dad suddenly passed away in July at the age of 66. I owed my love of the game to him, and my level of gratitude was such that I even wrote a book about it. We finally crossed the last big item off our baseball bucket list in April when we went to Opening Day at Citizens Bank Park. At the time, it felt important after a year of being stuck at home. 

The pandemic filled everyone’s future with a sense of uncertainty. I think we began approaching life with more of a “seize the moment” mentality, and we’re all the better for it. Dad and I got to go to one more Phillies game together before his untimely passing, and that honestly made accepting his death a little easier.

Going to nine Phillies games in one season (my previous record was six), I definitely experienced things I’d never seen before. I was there for Aaron Nola’s complete-game shutout in April, and it was one of two Phillies shutouts I saw. I’d only attended one other Phils shutout before 2021.

I sat through my first rain delay ever, and another game was suspended to the following day due to thunderstorms. Both times, the Phillies provided me the option of purchasing heavily discounted tickets to future games, which I jumped on. The team also offered a flash sale of $8 tickets after an eight-game winning streak in early August. I very quickly realized the perks of being a die-hard Phillies fan.

Then again, by the time August rolled around, I began wondering if the Phillies had any die-hard fans left.

As I mentioned earlier, I saw games in four different stadiums in 2021. It’s always nice to immerse yourself in the fan atmosphere in another city. Unfortunately, my travels and the sense of loss I felt at Citizens Bank Park after my dad died made me realize that the Phillies have one of the most apathetic fanbases around.

I went to Citi Field in June, and every Met fan in that stadium was riveted by every play and every pitch, and I felt the same vibe when thousands of them flocked to Citizens Bank Park to watch the Phils sweep their team out of first place. Hell, I felt more fan participation at Camden Yards, and the Orioles were the worst team in baseball. At Citizens Bank Park, the fans cheered louder when a fellow fan caught a foul ball than the last out of a win. I realize Philly is a football town, but come on, give me something!

Simply knowing that I could get a better fan experience somewhere else, I won’t be going to as many Phillies games in 2022, and that’s a shame. 2021 will wind up being the exception, rather than the rule. It also ended on a high note, as J.T. Realmuto crushed a walk-off double at my ninth and final Phillies game in September. At least the fans lost their minds for that play.

The 2021 season featured a little bit of everything, including every emotion on the spectrum. I will look back on it with fondness and heartache, and now that it’s over, I only have question: is it April yet?!

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!

August 16, 2001: Baltimore Orioles vs. Kansas City Royals

I would be heading back to college for my sophomore year at the Penn State Hazleton campus in a few days, and I packed as much fun as I possibly could in the last week of what had been a dismal summer.

My dad, a regular drinker and smoker all his adult life, suffered a mild heart attack in January 2001. An angiogram revealed an 80-percent blockage in his arteries, requiring quadruple bypass surgery that June. The technology of the time required surgeons to remove my dad’s heart from his body while keeping him alive with machines. This fact terrified me, despite the minimal chance of death. My dad was only 46 years old, but this surgery made his mortality more real than it had ever been.

Dad made it through the procedure fine and was home from the hospital five days later. He wasn’t cleared to drive or return to work until August, though he began driving again after only two weeks (a rule that apparently all male patients break, according to my dad’s doctor).

My stressful home life made it difficult to enjoy the Phillies’ promising season. Amazingly, they were best team in baseball through the first two months – off to their hottest start since 1993 – and they remained in first place at the All-Star Break. Young and speedy shortstop Jimmy Rollins became an instant fan favorite and motored his way to Rookie of the Year honors. Philly ended the season just two games out of first in a down year for the NL East, and it secured its first winning record since ’93.

You may be wondering why, as a last-day-of-summer treat I chose to see a team floundering 20 games under .500 over a team battling for a division title. The reasoning was simple; it was my last chance to see Cal Ripken, Jr. before he retired. That summer’s All-Star Game pushed me in that direction as well. All eyes were on future Hall of Famers Ripken and Tony Gwynn. Ripken homered in his first at-bat and was named the game’s MVP.

It would have been nice for my dad and I to see Ripken on the field that day, but he took to his DH position well, going 3-for-4.

This game also sticks out in my memory for an unpleasant reason. During one inning when the Orioles defense was on the field, some fans sitting near my dad and I began hurling verbal taunts at Brady Anderson, who was the closest player in view. They singled out the offensive struggles of the former All-Star, whose batting average tolled the Mendoza Line for most of the season.

For a reason I can’t fathom, I found their taunts amusing and joined in with them. I suppose I had yet to grasp that all major league players’ skills decline once they reach a certain age, and for Anderson, it was 37. Very few get to bow out as gracefully as Ripken, and Anderson did not deserve such harsh treatment, especially from his own fans.

By the time I got to college, I rarely received my father’s stern tone, but I heard it loud and clear when he told me to stop yelling at Anderson. I complied immediately, and though I didn’t reflect on my behavior until years later, I knew I had done something wrong. I had broken the code of respect that my dad always followed when he attended games. I not only violated the code but set a poor example of conduct for any younger fans sitting around us. I learned my lesson, and that was the first and last time I heckled a player on the team for which I was rooting.

The Kansas City Royals broke a scoreless tie with three runs in the sixth inning and three more in the seventh. Though my dad was mostly recovered from his surgery, watching a baseball game under the hot, summer sun was quite taxing. We left after the seventh, which would become a recurring practice over the next several years. The decision is easier to make when your team is losing.

2001 was a scary year for me and for the country after the terrorist attacks on 9/11, but life continued in New York and Washington, D.C., and I still had my father. We were lucky to build countless more memories together, with some of the best taking place in view of a baseball diamond.

Note: This game coincidentally featured some of the Phillies’ past and their future. Paul Byrd, who started the 2001 season with Philadelphia, won the game for the Royals. Future Phillies left fielder Raul Ibanez backed Byrd’s strong start with a three-run shot.

April 30, 2000 & July 26, 2005: McGwire vs. Sosa

Some hometown fans go to baseball games to get a glimpse of superstars playing for the opposing team. I never considered myself among them until Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa came along.

The home run had not been in such high demand since Babe Ruth popularized it in the 1920s. Eighty years later, seemingly untouchable offensive records were falling left and right by these slugging freaks of nature, and I rooted for them every time they stared down their helpless enemy 60 feet and 6 inches away.

In recent years, I have grown to appreciate the delicate art of pitching, but it still does not compare to the thrill of a baseball leaving the yard. A player whips his large, wooden stick through the strike zone and connects with a ball that flies 400 feet to its destination. The crowd bellows a collective, “Woah…,” upon contact, and then hurls a cacophony of cheers into the atmosphere after the ball clears the fence. Four seconds of pure elation.

I hoped for that feeling 20 times over as my dad and I ventured to our second Phillies game in 20 days. We arrived nearly two hours before first pitch, and I went down to the 200 level ready to see some batting practice blasts, for which McGwire had become legendary. I stood and watched behind home plate for a good half hour as Cardinal after Cardinal took his hacks, but Big Mac never appeared. As we would see during the game – and by McGwire’s eventual confession 10 years later – it’s not like he needed the practice.

To be clear, I wanted the Phillies to win this game. I envisioned a meaningless Big Mac homer in a 10-1 blowout, but McGwire ended up being a much bigger factor in this one.

Curt Schilling started the year on the Disabled List, so this was his season debut. He looked in mid-season form, striking out eight and holding the dangerous St. Louis lineup at bay until the sixth, when McGwire batted with one out and one on, and the score 2-1 in the Cardinals’ favor. With one mighty swing, Big Mac hit the 530^th long ball of his career, giving St. Louis a lead it would not relinquish.

I had missed McGwire’s record-breaking 62^nd home run of the 1998 season by seconds on TV, and I missed seeing this one live, as I was stuck in line at the concession stand. Given what I know now, I don’t mind failing to experience these moments in baseball history. Mickey Morandini’s grand slam seven years earlier remains a much better story.

The only thing that mattered was the Phillies were now down by three runs. My dad certainly didn’t feel good about seeing McGwire’s homer, and we both left the Vet shaking our heads. A month into the season, our team was in dead last with a record of 7-17.

I saw Sosa live once as well, five years later, in the twilight of his career with the Baltimore Orioles. By this time, reports of rampant steroid use in baseball were well known. That March, Sosa and O’s teammate Rafael Palmeiro had both testified before congress (along with Schilling) that they had never taken performance-enhancing drugs. Palmeiro famously emphasized his point with a defiant index finger.

I was actually in my seat when Sosa went deep in this game. Though the Orioles were fading fast from contention in the AL East, the general mood at Camden Yards was high thanks to the four white banners hanging up on the B&O Warehouse, reading the number ‘3,000’.

I obviously didn’t know it then, but I picked a crazy time to go to an O’s game. It fell a week after Palmeiro reached the 3,000 hit milestone and a week before he was suspended for 10 games for a positive steroids test.

The news hit me pretty hard, not only because Palmeiro was my favorite Oriole, but his suspension peeled the first layer off an onion of deceit. Major League Baseball is just as at fault for allowing the steroid culture to thrive with no threat of punishment, but I can’t ignore that these players made the choice to poison their bodies to give them an unfair advantage. They accepted endless adoration, smiling through their lies the whole way through it. When they were finally caught, they made the innocent who played alongside them guilty by association.

There are arguments on both sides of the great debate on whether or not stars from the Steroid Era deserve election into the Hall of Fame. All I can say is, I’m glad I’m not a member of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America. My gut reaction is that steroid abusers have no place in the Hall, but I’m sure there are members in now who cheated in some form or another. Amphetamine use in baseball predates the Steroid Era by several decades, and there are players like Ty Cobb, a well-known racist man with a violent temper that he unleashed on other players.

On the other side, Pete Rose is denied eligibility at all for betting on baseball. As far as the sport is concerned, he’s considered more of a villain than McGwire. I have always stated that baseball will eventually lift the ban on Rose, but probably not until right after he dies.

 

It’s unfortunate that the fans of my generation were brought up on a fixed game, but we learned that the stars we held up so high in our youth turned out to be flawed human beings, just like our parents.

My dad and I never really talked about the steroid scandal, apart from the obligatory "that's a shame" lament whenever a new juicer was revealed. We were both on the same page concerning the guilty players’ fates. The unsuccessful teams the Phillies rolled out during the height of the scandal gave us the excuse we needed to believe that they were all innocent.

Luckily, in a few years, the game would clean itself up to give the Phils a fighting chance. And boy, did they ever take advantage.