July 10, 1993: Phillies vs. San Francisco Giants

My father lit the spark of my interest in baseball, but the 1993 Phillies fueled the flames.

We all like to pretend that we are not fair weather fans. We support our team no matter what, but the truth remains that when “our guys” are winning, we cheer louder, we pay more attention and we are much more willing to spend some of our hard-earned money to attend their games.

What made the ’93 Phillies such a great team to watch was that no one saw them coming. The squad didn’t include a single superstar; just a bunch of scruffy, mullet-wearing goofballs. Hell, their highest paid player was their closer, Mitch Williams, who was the wildest and bushiest of them all.

My dad and I watched in awe from the very beginning, as the Phillies swept their opening series and jumped out to a 9-3 start. They carried that .750 winning percentage into mid-May, and I remember thinking that this team was really something special following a win on Mother’s Day when Mariano Duncan slugged a game-winning grand slam against the St. Louis Cardinals.

Speaking of my dear old mother, not even she nor my sister could avoid the Philly fever gripping the region, so they joined my dad and I for our first game of the year against the San Francisco Giants.

I paid close attention to this four-game series because to this point in the season, the Giants were the best team in baseball. They also had the best player, moody superstar Barry Bonds, who would go on to swipe his third Most Valuable Player award in four years. In our eyes, this was the Phillies’ biggest test of the season and gave us a look at how they might stack up against a postseason opponent.

We went to the third game of the series, and the ugliness of the first two games didn’t fill us with confidence. San Francisco dropped a few touchdowns on the Phils, outscoring them 28-10 (the only bright spot being rookie Kevin Stocker’s first major league home run the day after getting called up to the bigs).

If the boys in red pinstripes were going to right the ship, they would have to battle both the Giants and the elements. The two lopsided losses had mercifully taken place at night, but this Saturday game took place in the afternoon on the hottest day of the year.

I will never forget how my mom brought a cooler full of ice into Veterans Stadium. She insisted we rub our arms and face with ice cubes throughout the game to stay cool. Thinking back, I’m sure sunscreen would have provided better protection for our skin, but when you’re 10 years old, mother always knows best.

The beginning of the game featured an exciting back-and-forth. The Giants scored a run in the first and two in the second, but the Phillies matched them each time. Philly left fielder Milt Thompson provided the early fireworks with a rare two-run shot. The celebration in the crowd was brief, however, when it was discovered that the ball hit a young girl in the head. She had to leave the stadium with her parents, but from what I remember, she wasn’t seriously injured and had a story to tell for the rest of her life, I’m sure.

The Phillies brought back the smiles with a run in the bottom of the sixth, taking their first lead of the entire series. The lead would stick thanks to an incredible moment that also remains a humorous one between my parents and I.

Wes Chamberlain had taught me two years earlier that even the little guy could be a hero. They didn’t come much smaller than Mickey Morandini.

The lanky, second baseman would emerge as one of Philly’s better hitters in the mid-1990s, but to this point, his only claim to fame was an unassisted triple play in 1992 (amazingly, one of his three victims was Bonds, who was in his last year as a Pittsburgh Pirate).

The left-handed hitting Morandini stepped to the plate with the bases loaded in the bottom of the eighth. The way he always choked up on the bat, he needed the fattest of pitches to drive the ball, but he must have gotten one. All of a sudden, I saw the small, white dot fly over the right-field fence just inside the foul pole for a game-changing grand slam.

Everyone in Veterans Stadium lost their minds, except for my poor father. A few minutes before Morandini’s blast, he had succumbed to the call of nature. When he returned to us, befuddled by the sudden change in score, we gleefully told him what happened, adding salt to his wound with a, “We can’t believe you missed that!”

When my mom and I bring this up with knowing smiles on our faces, my dad always beats us to punch. “Yeah, I know. I was in the bathroom.”

There was every reason to believe we were good luck charms for the Phillies that day. It was the only game in the four-game set that they won, and the only one in which the Giants didn’t score in double digits.

Bonds particularly faltered in our presence. He went 0-for-3, got thrown out at home plate and dropped a foul ball. We had a great view of that miscue from our seats along the left-field line. The seats weren’t anywhere near the field, but my dad and I pretended Bonds could hear our taunts.

Looking back, the best thing about this win was that it came from the unlikeliest of sources. Between the two of them, Thompson and Morandini amassed a grand total of seven homers during the 1993 season. By comparison, Pete “Inky” Incaviglia (a fellow platoon outfielder with Thompson) deposited eight noggin nailers into the stands in the month of August alone.

Despite all the magic we witnessed that day, it came as no surprise to me. Though there was plenty of season left, I had bought into this team. However it happened, they were going to win.

Even if it meant forcing Dad out of the room whenever the Phils loaded the bases.

July 31, 1991: Phillies vs. San Diego Padres

The mind of an eight-year-old child is a sponge. Nearly everything he or she sees and hears is processed and stored to aid in future experiences.

My father loved teaching me new things, and I could see the excitement in his eye when he did so, like it reminded him of when he learned them himself. My dad stayed informed on a wide array of topics, and he frequently passed that knowledge along to me. For example, on November 9, 1989, we watched the ABC World News’ coverage of the fall of the Berlin Wall. My dad said to my sister, Lindsay, and I, “Make sure you remember this date. It’s a very important date.”

Another one of my dad’s ongoing projects was building my vocabulary. I can attribute one word in particular to the Phillies, and more specifically, former corner outfielder Wes Chamberlain. The word of the day was “potential.”

Whenever my dad spoke about Chamberlain, he always talked about how much potential he had as a player; he had the potential to do great things as a Phillie. On this day, Chamberlain sought to prove my dad right.

The Phillies hosted the San Diego Padres. Our seats were in the upper deck (older fans can well remember the seats of school bus yellow), and it turned out that we were at a good altitude for the show Chamberlain was about to put on.

In addition to the new word I had learned, I fell in love with the home run, as Mr. Potential clubbed not one, but two three-run bombs. All I could do was shake my head and say, “Wow,” as the ball sailed out of the yard.

They were the first home runs I had seen at a game, and possibly ever.

Chamberlain finished a perfect 4-for-4, and his six RBI set a career high for a single game. The Phillies cruised to a 9-3 win, and unbeknownst to me at the time, they were in the midst of a 13-game winning streak that would pull them out of last place and make up nine games in the standings. Philly would never return to the basement in 1991 and finished the season in third, its highest standing since 1983.

Chamberlain had a total of three 4-hit games that year and finished fifth in the Rookie of the Year voting, but sadly, he didn’t live up to my dad’s hype. He never moved beyond the role of a backup outfielder, and by the age of 29, he was out of baseball. My dad and I caught but a glimpse of what could have been. Still, I will never feel sorry for witnessing the best game of Chamberlain’s career.

My dad may not have known it, but Chamberlain’s performance taught me another important lesson in the end. When you put forth your best effort, you may not always succeed, but every so often you can achieve what seems impossible.

August 30, 1990: Philadelphia Phillies vs. Los Angeles Dodgers

This is the first posting in a series about baseball games that I've attended with my father. The series will chronicle my developing love of our nation's pastime, helped along by my dear old dad and the great Phillies and Orioles teams of the past 20 years. It's something I hope to one day turn into a book, so please share this with your friends and family, particularly if they love baseball!

When I was a young child, my dad was my world. I wanted to grow up to be just like him, and everything he said and did I took as gospel.

This also meant I loathed anything that took his attention away from me. Such was the case with the Philadelphia Phillies.

Every Sunday afternoon in the spring and summer, my father parked himself in his favorite chair and tuned into WPHL17 to watch his favorite team. “How could this silly game on TV be more important than spending time with me?” I often asked myself.

My dad did his best to show me that there was plenty of room in life for him and baseball, and eventually, I came around enough to agree to go to a Phillies game with him. I was a month shy of my eighth birthday and had no idea this father-son activity would become such an important ritual that lasts to this day.

But I wasn’t going to root for those nasty Phillies just yet. Clearly, I still hung onto to some of the bitterness from the aforementioned Sunday afternoons.

A product of the “cookie cutter” era, Veterans Stadium was well known as a bit of an eyesore and an unpleasant place to play, particularly considering the Phillies and Philadelphia Eagles had to share it. But to a kid who had only known beat-up, neighborhood diamonds – where my dad would frequently take me for a game of catch or batting practice – this cathedral of our National Pastime was a sight to behold.

As my mother would later articulate for me, another big attraction of seeing a live, professional baseball game is the crowd. Veterans Stadium seated nearly 60,000 people. To put that into proper perspective, my hometown of Wilmington, Delaware has a population of approximately 72,000 people.

The crowd completely surrounded the field in several levels that seemed to ascend indefinitely, and the circle of fans created this vacuum of noise that my youthful ears had never heard. How amazing it was that these tens of thousands of people were all there for the same reason.

I was still learning the rules of the game, so I didn’t really follow what was happening on the field after the game began. I was also distracted by a teenager, there with his dad, sitting next to me, who kept on calling out, “Hey battah battah battah…”

The Phillies offense could not accommodate him, losing to Tommy Lasorda’s Los Angeles Dodgers 3-2. This would be my one and only time going to a Phillies game and rooting for the opposing team. They appeared to me as strangers in white uniforms and red caps, but I would soon know and enjoy the exploits of Darren Daulton, Lenny Dykstra and John Kruk.

The most memorable part of the night amazingly occurred after the game. My dad’s used Toyota was on its last legs. The engine kept overheating as we made our way back to Wilmington, forcing us to stop on the shoulder of 1-95 several times. The car finally conked out for good after we got off our exit, and we had to walk home from Gander Hill Prison, an impressive accomplishment in one of the most dangerous parts of the city.

Considering the deep significance this night now holds in my memory, I feel extremely fortunate the car mercifully waited until the drive home from my first-ever major league baseball experience to die. It seems quite poetic.

I was still five days from starting third grade, so my dad suggested we continue our special evening by staying up well past midnight to watch the re-broadcasting of the game we had just attended. We played Super Mario Bros. on my old-school (then brand new) Nintendo Entertainment System to pass the time. We watched about half the game, and then finally went to bed at 3:30 a.m., the latest I had ever stayed up to that point. It remained a bedtime record for the next nine years.

Now that I look back on that night, it was probably the first time I sat down and watched a Phillies game on TV with my dad. Two precedents were set mere hours from one another and soon, Sunday afternoons would turn from times of frustration to times of joy.

Are those numbers real??

That ball looks like a melon, don't it, Shane?

Believe it or not, I am back.

Currently, I am working on a blog series that I think is really exciting and more focused and meaningful than what I have posted in the past.

I will leave you all in anticipation of that, and instead, share with you a cool nugget of information that may only serve my amusement, but I will try to present in a way that will peak your interest as well.

As you may or may not have known, I rooted for Boston in the most recent Fall Classic. I get a sick pleasure out of watching New York Yankee fans suffer, and I have been a minor supporter of the Red Sox since their improbable comeback in the ALCS nine years ago.

In order to better justify my leanings this October, I decided that I wanted to see former Phillie Shane Victorino get another ring.

Those of us watching remember well Victorino's heroics in Game 6 of the ALCS and Game 6 of the Series. He drove in a combined eight runs in the those two games, including a grand slam over the Green Monster in the former.

All of those RBI came with the bases loaded, and toward the end of the game that would result in Boston's third title in nine years, Fox commentator Joe Buck revealed that Victorino was 6-for-8 with 20 RBI with the bases loaded in his postseason career.

Yowsah! (figure I'd thrown in some Boston-ese)

With my baseball stat appetite whetted, I hopped on my favorite website, baseball-reference.com. More than anything, I wanted to prove that Buck misspoke because just two of those six hits for Victorino were grand slams. Twenty runs driven in seemed far-fetched.

But Buck was right, and I now share with you all of Victorino's postseason RBI with the bases loaded. It's quite astonishing when you think about it.

Bases-Loaded Walk, 2008 NLDS Game 1
Grand Slam, 2008 NLDS Game 2
2-run Single, 2008 World Series Game 5
Hit-By-Pitch, 2009 NLCS Game 5
Sacrifice Fly, 2009 World Series Game 3
2-run Single, 2010 NLDS Game 1
Bases-Loaded Walk, 2010 NLDS Game 2
Grand Slam, 2013 ALCS Game 6
3-run Double, 2013 World Series Game 6
RBI Single, 2013 World Series Game 6

Those numbers blew me away. Despite my appreciation and respect for sabermetrics, I still think that clutch hitting is a credible term. Like anything else, hitting is mental and if you go into an at-bat believing you're going to succeed, then there's a higher chance you will. Just ask David Ortiz.

Honestly, what really sticks out to me in that list are the two walks. Victorino is not a player that comes to mind when I think of plate discipline. Much like the guy he followed in the Philly lineup during the glory years (I think his last name is Rollins), Victorino is an uppercut swinger, who becomes a major concern to opposing pitchers when he does get on base.

But when the calendar flips to October, Ortiz is no longer the only guy the Red Sox want at the plate in high-pressure situations. No room on the sacks for the Flyin' Hawaiian? Don't worry, he'll make room.

Congrats on all your success, Shane, and maybe someday, you will don the red and white pinstripes yet again. I would welcome that.

Hell of a Week

This may very well be my last post on Red Pinstripe Explosion. While I don't doubt my abilities as a writer in general, I have come to the realization that most of my musings on the Philadelphia Phillies were little more than glorified summaries of what fans already knew. I'll resign myself to the experts who are much more eloquent and dedicated in their knowledge of Major League Baseball. Oddly enough, the following has nothing to do with the big leagues.

As most of you know, I am leaving the sports writing world behind and entering the non-profit field, but my job at the Gettysburg Times saw fit to reward me with a nice sendoff; a reminder of what made this position I held for three-and-a-half years so special.

The magical high school baseball season of 2010 notwithstanding, June is the time of the year when things really slow down at the office. Our coverage mainly consists of American Legion and South Penn League baseball games (for those who don't know, the latter is a local nine-team, men's league).

I recently experienced a unique stretch consisting of four Legion and two South Penn contests over an eight-day period, and they reopened my eyes to the wonderful randomness of baseball. In nearly every game, I saw something I had never before witnessed, and I stumbled upon a few cool story lines. I now happily share them with you:

June 13 & 15 - Hanover's Legion team laughed in the face of conventional offense in back-to-back wins over Bermudian and Dallastown. In the two games combined, Hanover scored 18 runs and a whopping 10 of them were scored on either wild pitches, passed balls or sacrifice flies. Numerous walks and stolen bases came into play here as well. In the 14-3 win over Bermudian, Hanover had just seven hits, four of which came in one inning. The team took an early 8-0 lead on the strength of just two hits, both from the No. 9 hole guy. I've never been so confused looking at my own scorebook.

June 14 - The Cashtown Pirates beat the Biglerville Black Sox 1-0 in an unlikely South Penn pitchers' duel. Cashtown starter Paul Price was still getting used to longer outings again after spending his college freshman season as a freqently-used reliever. The deeper he went into this game, however, the better he looked. After giving up two hits in the first inning, he held the Sox hitless the rest of the way, striking out 11 (6 from the 5th inning on) and walking just one. Even more impressive, however, was the gutsy performance by Biglerville pitcher Kyle Knouse, who hadn't ascended a mound in nearly a year, and did so at the last minute because no other pitchers were available. He spent most of the outing pitching out of the stretch through pain in his throwing arm, but he allowed only one run to score on an RBI single in the fourth inning. His defense helped him out with some great plays, including the lovely, but seldom seen 5-2-3 double play. One of those games where you're sorry one of the teams has to lose.

June 18 - Unless you're the 2010 Bermudian Springs Eagles (they made an art out of crushing first-pitch fastballs), if you don't work the count, you're going to lose. New Oxford's Legion team, mostly made up of sophomore JV players due to Senior Week, learned this painful lesson through the first six innings of its game against Bermudian. The players were facing a 3-1 deficit going into the seventh and final inning. They hadn't drawn their first walk until the sixth and had worked just one three-ball count in the previous five innings. It was now up to the No. 8 and 9 hitters to laugh in the face of their team's nearly-evaporated win expectancy. Low and behold, they each got on with a base on balls. Bill James had finally coaxed the players into removing the gun barrel from their collective temple. However, they then shot sabermetrics in the foot with a bunt attempt that got the lead runner thrown out at third. Lucky for them, it was only the first out. During the following at-bat, Bermudian's reliever threw THREE STRAIGHT wild pitches that allowed the tying runs to score. The batter then tripled to deep right and trotted home with what proved to be the winning run on a throwing error. Baseball, don't ever institute a timer! As an interesting side note, this game was the first time I had seen the losing pitcher on the mound since he pitched that very same 2010 Bermudian team into the state finals.

June 20 - We're all taught from a very young age that sportsmanship and dignity are essential components to a successful team. Sure, heated moments can pop up, but when all is done, you shake hands and congratulate the other team on a game well played. In this particular Legion game, however, one player decided to use his hands to express himself in quite a different way. I can say with both certainty and relief that I will never see another thing like this on a baseball diamond. It was the top of the fifth inning and Glen Rock was pounding Hanover 11-1 and threatening for more with the bases loaded and two outs. The next batter up hit a grounder to the third baseman. After he fielded it, he pivoted toward home for what should have been an inning-ending forceout, but instead he hit the baserunner in the back. It was such a bizarre event that I didn't even realize it was intentional. The home plate umpire did and tossed the aggressor. His ejection forced a premature end to this blowout because Hanover had no substitutions left. The players on both sides had to shake hands with a mix of resentment and incompletion. Maybe I'm crazy, but there are more mature ways of handling conflict than throwing a baseball at someone while his back is turned. Pure Bush League, man. I must admit as journalist, though, it turned a nothing story into something.

June 21 - Even if it is more common at this level, a no-hitter is a remarkable achievement and such a thrill to watch. In this South Penn contest, New Oxford Twins pitcher Charlie Werner was in total control from start to finish, and his secret was really no secret at all: keep the ball down. He had Littlestown's hitters biting at his fastball all evening. He struck out just three batters, while 14 of hits 21 outs came on the ground. His middle infielders showed impressive range and accuracy, while his left fielder made the play of the night, chasing down a blooper in shallow left that was fading toward the line for the first out of the sixth inning. It was the first no-hitter of Werner's life and even more amazing, he pitched with a cold and before this season, he was New Oxford's starting catcher.

This crazy game of baseball always keeps me on my toes, and it's without the doubt the sport I'll miss writing about the most when I leave Gettysburg in a few days for greener pastures. Then again, I will always have this blog to come back to if the urge becomes overwhelming. Thank you so much for reading and I apologize for this post's crazy length. I guess that's what happens when you don't write a true one for several months. I hope you all have found it entertaining and insightful! Until next time.

Manuel, Phillies ready to lift lid on season

The burning anticipation hung like a thick fog over the entire Diamond Club at Citizens Bank Park.

It was just 24 hours until the first pitch of Opening Day for the Philadelphia Phillies, but the team's television broadcasters and manager Charlie Manuel all said the same thing.

"We were ready two weeks ago."

A special event was held at the stadium's exclusive club for all the radio stations that broadcast Phillies games, including Gettysburg's own Fox Sports 1320, of which I was an honorary employee for two hours.

After a filling lunch of Italian hoagies, cheesesteaks and Tastycakes, the group was treated to a Q & A session, first with GM Ruben Amaro, Jr., and then Manuel and pitching coach Rich Dubee. These unique media members were the last who got to grill Amaro and Manuel about all the issues facing the team before the start of the regular season.

Amaro was his usual cryptic self, speaking in generalizations about the state of the team, and he looked quite flustered by the last few questions/comments from the crowd. One suggested that maybe Jimmy Rollins would stop swinging at the first pitch with the wise hitting presence of Jim Thome in the dugout. Amaro quickly snapped back, "You're not upset when Jimmy gets a hit on the first pitch."

Perhaps to distract us from the ongoing negotiations to sign Cole Hamels long-term and the unknown timetables for the return of Ryan Howard and Chase Utley, Amaro went in depth about the disgusting nature of Howard's recent infection around his surgically repaired Achilles tendon.

God knows why the GM would have his hands anywhere near the injured foot of one of his players, but the event's MC, Phillies play-by-play radio broadcaster Scott Franzke, made light of the situation by asking the audience, "Everyone ready for lunch?"

The mood was more relaxed when Dubee and Manuel took the stage, but even Manuel seemed a bit testy about the questions he's also been asked for the past six weeks.

Fans and reporters do have a valid cause for concern, especially considering we've all grown accustomed to the Phillies winning the NL East every year.

If you want to point the finger at what could snap that five-year streak, look no further than the offense. Lack of hitting has been the culprit for most of the Phillies' losses over the past two years, and the absence of more trophies on the shelf next to 2008. The only offensive additions the team made in the offseason were to its bench, so as a hitters' manager, Manuel will continue to field some tough questions as the season gets going.

Howard and Utley will be mere shadows of themselves after they return - I would say May for Utley and July for Howard - and a third of Philly's games will come against Atlanta and the much-improved clubs in Miami and Washington (Manuel's money is still on the Braves as their toughest competition in the division). The Phillies will still make the playoffs, but if they want the high seed a division title brings, Rollins will have to stay healthy the whole year, Shane Victorino and Hunter Pence will both have to hit above .300 and John Mayberry, Jr. will need to have a breakout year with 25-30 home runs.

Amidst all the negative predictions, Amaro and Manuel were positively gushing about Joe Savery, who was the 12th and final pitcher to be named to the Phillies' Opening Day roster. The team's first-round draft pick in 2007, Savery converted to hitting last year after serious control problems, but he magically rediscovered his hurling talents and made the team after a solid Spring Training (1-1, 3.48 ERA). With Jose Contreras opening the season on the Disabled List, Savery will get to prove himself out of the Phillies bullpen.

Pitching is the area that the Phightins' aren't worried about, so much so that color announcer Gary "Sarge" Matthews claimed during a Spring Training broadcast that he could take over for Dubee. His fellow broadcasters let the audience know that they will never let him live that one down.

With fiery closer Jonathan Papelbon now putting the finishing touches on the masterpieces of the three aces, we can excuse Sarge's impertinence. We've gotten used to it over the past five years.

I was selected to ask Manuel one final question before he and the rest of the team left for Pittsburgh, and I decided to go easy on him. I wanted to know which pitcher gets the most upset at him when he walks to the mound to take them out.

"I'd say Halladay, (Cliff) Lee and Vance Worley," he replied.

Phillies radio color man and former pitcher Larry Andersen immediately followed by asking Manuel in jest if he ever got scared taking Halladay - who will start Game 1 against the Pirates this afternoon - out of a game in the ninth inning.

Charlie gave the slightest of smiles and said, "If I ever got scared, I'd turn around, go into my office, take off my uniform and go home. You can't ever be scared to do that."

That answer reminded us all why Manuel is the winningest manager in Phillies history, and with him at the helm, there's no reason to look upon the 2012 season with anything but excitement.

PSWA dinner reveals inspiring sports heroes

note: This is another column of mine that ran in the Gettysburg Times about my experience at the PSWA dinner.

My body suddenly froze as I locked eyes on a face that looked as familiar as when the body attached to it donned a Philadelphia Phillies uniform.

His jet-black hair was well kept - likely aided by some gelling agent - with its usual part down the left side. Ruben Amaro, Jr. looked directly through my gaze without expression, the perfect poker face for any general manager.

As Amaro hung a right into the socializing area outside Ballroom C, my eyes grew wider as he was followed by Phillies manager Charlie Manuel and right fielder Hunter Pence. At that moment, I didn't know which items to shove in their faces, a baseball and pen, or my digital recorder.

Neither seemed appropriate, however. These men were baseball royalty, but I was surprised how much they appeared like regular guys without any mental reminders.

I snapped myself out of the trance and gave Charlie Manuel a pat on the back and a simple greeting; as if he was a friend I had just bumped into at a party. To my relief, he briefly spun his head around and returned the greeting with a smile. Good old Uncle Cholly.

There is sometimes a fine line between reporter and fan, and I frequently danced on both sides of it during the 108th Philadelphia Sports Writers Association Dinner Monday night at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Cherry Hill, N.J. I gabbed with fellow sports writers while snagging a few John Hancocks from the head table.

The event was held to recognize Philadelphia-area athletes in all sports with achievement awards. Manuel received a special achievement honor for becoming the winningest manager in Phillies history this past season. Pence won the 2012 Good Guy Award for his immediate affinity with the team and fans when he was traded from the Houston Astros last July (further bolstered by his recent one-year, $10.4 million contract that avoided arbitration).

When Manuel began his acceptance speech, the only words I heard clearly through his West Virginia drawl was "nudist colony," which prompted the biggest laugh of the evening from the audience. His full opening line was, "I feel like a mosquito at a nudist colony," but he had to wait a good 15 seconds for the laughter to die down before he awkwardly delivered the punch line: "I don't know where to start."

Often the butt of a joke due to his 'not-so-good' diction, Manuel came across to the crowd the same way he did with me earlier, as a humble man who appreciated the job he was given as the Phillies' skipper.

As for Pence, the way he worked the crowd, you might have thought he actually grew up in Philadelphia (his speech revealed but a hint of Texas twang). His opening referred back to the acceptance speech given by Philadelphia University men's basketball coach Herb Magee, who playfully lamented that his granddaughters were more excited about getting their picture taken with the dashing Pence than seeing him receive the Living Legend Award.

In response, Pence quipped, "I just won the Good Guy Award so don't parade your granddaughters around me, please."

The Philly outfielder was also one of several honorees to mention the rousing speech given by Temple University head football coach Steve Addazio, whose rant of inspiration made every attendee in the ballroom feel like one of his players in the locker room on game day. When he was finished, no one questioned how the Owls won their first bowl game since 1979.

"Is my heart still pounding," Pence asked as he looked in Addazio's direction. "I don't know if you're still here or not, but I need you to speak to me before every game."

My recorder captured all of this humorous dialogue, but I shot an arrow through my professional credibility by yelling out Pence's name right before he approached the podium. Truth be told, he was the main reason I wanted to attend the dinner. From the moment he put on those red pinstripes, he has reminded us all of what a baseball player used to be before the stat crazes and steroids - pulling up those socks to his knees, choking up on the bat like the Mickey Morandini of old and slapping the lumber at the ball with odd precision.

My reporter sensibilities came back into focus when the PSWA honored the memories of boxer Joe Frazier and Penn State head football coach Joe Paterno.

As the chilling sounds of boxing's 10-bell salute filled the silence in the room, emotion overtook the bell's ringer, Frazier's daughter Jacqui Frazier-Lyde - a boxer in her own right, as well as a Municipal Court Judge. But like her father did so many times in his career, she finished what she started.

Paterno was honored with poignant words from former Penn State cornerback Adam Taliaferro, who played in just five games as a freshman before a spinal injury ended his career. After surgery, he was given only a three percent chance to walk again, but he defied the odds during an eight-month stay at the Magee Rehabilitation Hospital in Philadelphia. A frequent visitor kept his spirits high.

"Every week Coach Paterno came to visit me," he said. "It was a three-hour drive. He didn't have to do that. He was one of the most genuine, down-to-earth people I ever met. My career was over and he asked me every day what I wanted to do with my life. He got me internships and sent letters of recommendation. He wanted me to be successful after football."

A shining example of Paterno's Grand Experiment, Taliaferro is now a lawyer in Cherry Hill and was recently elected to the Gloucester County Board of Chosen Freeholders.

The Philly area was the site of another miracle recognized by the PSWA in its final award presentation. The association chose Anthony Robles as its 2012 Most Courageous Athlete. The Arizona State wrestler captured the NCAA Division I title at 125 pounds at the Wells Fargo Center last March, despite being born without a right leg.

"I never thought of it as a handicap," said Robles, who has become a motivational speaker since graduating and is working on a book about his life.

As Robles spoke, the real magic of this event washed over me. The association helped my realization by turning off all the lights except the one on the podium, making Pence, Manuel and Amaro disappear. Stories like Robles and Taliaferro are at the core of what it means to be a sports writer; teaching readers who are living in an increasingly cynical world about overcoming any obstacle to achieve success.

Though I returned to being a fan by the end of the dinner, Robles and Taliaferro were now the athletic giants who left me frozen in awe as they walked by.