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.

May 18, 1994: Phillies vs. Montreal Expos

Larry Anderson, left, giving us a
shallow thought on Phillies Photo Day.

The following year, my dad and I raised our commitment to the Phillies another level.

It was on a gloomy day in May 1994 that my dad gave me a get-out-of-school-free card to attend a game for the first and only time. I welcomed any break that came my way because sixth grade was the first of three years that I endured taunting and bullying from my peers on an almost daily basis.

The Phillies, fresh off a National League title and their first World Series appearance in 10 years, were going through hardship as well, and that day’s overcast skies and occasional chilly drizzle amplified their struggles. As the year unfolded, it became increasingly clear that the 1993 season was a flash in the pan. Nearly every player had his career year, and then fell back down to earth. This reality hit the starting rotation particularly hard. Terry Mulholland was traded to the New York Yankees in the offseason, while Curt Schilling, Tommy Greene and Ben Rivera all battled injuries.

Danny Jackson was the only starting pitcher on the top of his game in 1994, and he happened to be on the hill this day. He came into it 5-0 with an ERA well under 3 and was named an All Star that July.

We were also hoping Jackson’s dominance would bring an end to the “Curse of the Blue Hats.” Prior to the season, the Phillies unveiled their new blue hats (to be worn during day games), giving more prominence to the team’s forgotten third color. It turned out it was forgotten for a reason because to this point in the season, the boys in red, white and blue were still looking for their first win in the new hats.

My dad and I got to the game early, and I came armed with a baseball. My good luck with securing autographs the year before at Wilmington Blue Rocks games encouraged me to try at the major league level. I gathered with dozens of other fans in the front row along the first-base line. Greene and veteran relief pitcher Larry Andersen were kind enough to grace fans with their John Hancock. Andersen, who was in his final season in the majors, took the ball from my offering hand and signed it just before he and Greene left the field.

For mostly nostalgic reasons, I regret that I misplaced that ball years ago. Andersen was a big part of that ’93 squad as the setup man for Mitch Williams, and he is still beloved in Philadelphia thanks to his insightful color commentary on the radio during games. I even crossed paths with him again in recent years. He is an amiable person with a wonderfully odd sense of humor. Back in the late ‘90s when he was part of the television broadcast team with Chris Wheeler and the legendary Harry Kalas, my dad and I exchanged anticipatory grins whenever HK would ask Andersen, “LA…do you have a shallow thought for the day?”*

Andersen’s autograph would end up being the highlight of our day. The Montreal Expos scored two runs off Jackson, who was clearly not immune to the curse, in the top of the first inning, and that would be all they needed in an eventual 6-1 win.

Any slim chance Philly had of returning to the playoffs was reduced to zero, along with every other team, that August when the Major League Baseball Players Association went on strike. For the first time in 90 years, baseball had no World Series. My one solace was that due to the strike, the Phillies were the reigning National League champions for two years.

Oh yeah, and those damn blue hats were gone for good.

At the time, I was too young to understand the greed of the players in refusing to accept a salary cap from the owners. I simply felt disheartened that I was cheated out of two months of watching the sport and team I had grown to love.

The owners finally gave in the following March, and baseball resumed. Since then, salaries have grown to ridiculous proportions, and a league-wide drug scandal has rocked the integrity of the game to its core. It almost makes me wish I grew up in another era of the game, but I’m glad that the rowdy “bunch of throwbacks” that first caught my eye in the early ‘90s showed me baseball in what I still believe to be its purest form.

Even if their caps were cursed.

 

*When I saw Andersen at the 2013 Phillies Fan Photo Day, I politely asked for a shallow thought for old time’s sake. Without missing a beat, he replied, “We all know the speed of light, but what’s the speed of dark?”