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!

May 9, 2009: Phillies vs. Atlanta Braves

Two months after moving back to the east coast, I got another sports writing gig, this time in the historical town of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. This new job permitted me the freedom to write about the Phillies, and it was a Philly-focused column I penned in April 2009 that earned me my first Pennsylvania press award, but I can’t take credit. Harry Kalas basically wrote the piece for me.
 

My dad and I went to our first meaningful Phillies game together in nearly five years that May. Our first live look at the World Series champions in action fared worse than we hoped. The Atlanta Braves jumped all over starting pitcher Joe Blanton en route to a 6-2 victory. The only Philly runs came on two solo shots, one by Chase Utley and the other by new Phillies acquisition, Raul Ibanez, who took over for the departed Pat Burrell in left field.

Those home runs gave us two chances to hear Kalas’ “outta here” call ringing through the loudspeakers at Citizens Bank Park. My dad and I smiled each time, though our hearts hung heavy. It was just one of many ways the Philly organization honored a team icon who left us all so suddenly the month before.

My dad and I caught a glimpse of Kalas during the World Series parade in October 2008, but we had no way of knowing he was less than six months from his death. Even as his health deteriorated, a fact kept hidden from the public, nothing could keep Kalas from the broadcast booth, which was eventually where his heart gave out just prior to a Phillies road game against the Washington Nationals on April 13.

Later that afternoon, I was informed of Kalas’ death by my friend Bill Gribble, my first college roommate and fellow Phillies fan who also attended the parade with my dad and I. We both struggled to put our grief into words as we expressed how much this man meant to us. We felt like we had lost a family member.

It seemed like fate intervened when the high school sporting event I was scheduled to cover that evening was canceled, and I wrote the aforementioned column instead. It’s not like I could get my mind to focus on anything else anyway.

After moving to Gettysburg, I tried to make it back to Wilmington at least one Sunday per month to watch the Phillies with my dad, but watching them would never be the same. We knew that our love for the Phils stemmed just as much from how Harry called the team’s games than the team itself.

Kalas had long been considered an honorary Phillie, and the players dedicated the rest of the 2009 season to him, wearing an ‘HK’ patch on the front of their uniforms. Shane Victorino also came up with the idea to hang a pale blue suit jacket of Kalas’ in the dugout, along with his trademark white shoes.

My dad and I enjoyed the good fortune of meeting Kalas once in May 2006. He was invited to the Wilmington Flower Market as a guest of WDEL 1150 AM, the radio station that broadcasted Phillies games in Delaware. Kalas was there to sign autographs of his picture for any fans in attendance, an opportunity the announcer rarely turned down.

At the most, I would say there 40 of us there to see Kalas, probably because his appearance wasn’t well advertised. I preferred the intimate feel, even though I would have gladly stood in line for six hours to see him.

Before sitting down to sign autographs, Kalas took the mic and spoke to us about how much he appreciated our support of the Phightin’ Phils, particularly during a recent winning streak that pulled them to within a game of first place. As his velvety voice rang out all over Rockford Park, I couldn’t believe I was this close to it, and I was about to get a lot closer.

The anticipation burned like fire in the pit of our stomachs as my dad and I waited in line with our photos. When it was my turn, I scurried up to the table and showing a nervous grin, I placed my photo in front of Kalas. I hadn’t met very many famous people in my life, so I wasn’t sure what to say. I finally blurted out something to the effect of, “I’ve been listening to you call games since I was a little kid.” He had probably already heard that from the 10 people before me, but he smiled warmly and said, “Thank you,” as he handed back my freshly-signed photo.

In the end, my words to him were appropriate. Part of the thrill of watching Phillies games growing up was tuning in 10 minutes before first pitch to hear Kalas welcome the fans to the telecast. I remember Harry and Whitey's pre-game acting as the soundtrack to my 11th birthday as my mother lit the candles on the cake. Though my Phillies fandom was still in its infancy at that point, Harry's unofficial presence at my party just felt right. It’s the wish of anyone who puts him or herself out there for the public’s consumption that their product keeps people coming back. Kalas was the best in his field at that.

As we left Rockford Park, my dad and I kept glancing down at Kalas’ autograph to make sure we hadn’t dreamt the whole thing. We were blown away that we got to hear that classic voice in person, and it was actually speaking to us. I’m embarrassed to admit that my dad and I lost our autographed photos after only a few weeks, but they were merely secondary to the experience of meeting one of our idols. It’s a meeting I treasure over any Phillies player. That is what he meant to the fans and to the art of broadcasting.

We won’t see another like Kalas again, but I’m so glad that my dad and I got to meet him, and I’m glad that he was alive to both see and call their second world championship. The Phillies made it back to the Fall Classic in October 2009, but lost in six games to the New York Yankees. I think the greatest moment of another Series win would’ve been when the players hoisted that trophy over their heads and said in perfect unison, “This one’s for Harry.”

April 30, 2011: Phillies vs. New York Mets

In 2011, I became more of an involved Phillies fan than ever before.

I wrote about them on an almost-daily basis for a startup sports website that unfortunately never got off the ground. Colleen received a major promotion at work that allowed me the financial freedom to attend six Phillies games that season, including trips to Pittsburgh and Washington (my first time ever seeing them on the road).

By now, I had a small group of people on my Phillies game invite list, but I still planned a game with my dad before anyone else.

I entered Citizens Bank Park that Saturday afternoon with more confidence about a Phillies win than at any previous game since 1993, and for once, I wasn’t looking for a Phillies blowout. The reason? His name was Roy “Doc” Halladay.

The Phillies struck fear in the hearts and minds of every other batting lineup in the National League prior to the season when they magically brought back Cliff Lee after losing him in 2009 – second sweetest Christmas gift ever behind the signed Cal Ripken ball Colleen gave me. The deck was now stacked in the Phillies’ favor with a rotation that included Lee, Halladay, Cole Hamels and Roy Oswalt.

But Halladay was an ace among aces. Not only did he run away with the Cy Young Award in 2010, his first year with Philadelphia, he tossed a perfect game in May and threw just the second postseason no-hitter in major league history that October against the Cincinnati Reds. He displayed a full arsenal of pitches that he could throw with absolute precision in any count. I had never seen a pitcher who looked in complete control every time he toed the rubber. Halladay was one of those rare hurlers who became even more unhittable with runners on base.

The New York Mets lineup looked befuddled against Doc over the first three innings. He retired nine of the first 10 men he faced on just 23 pitches, 21 of which were strikes. The Mets got to Halladay in the fourth, leading off with three straight singles to take a 1-0 lead, but he stopped the bleeding there. He bounced back quickly, collecting five of his eight strikeouts in the fifth, sixth and seventh innings.

The Philly offense finally rewarded Halladay’s strong outing in the bottom of the seventh with a pair of runs. Home plate became a harder destination to reach for the Phillies by 2011 – 4.4 runs per game, compared with 5.1 in 2009 – but scoring wasn’t as pressing of an issue when their starters were going seven or eight innings every night.

Even guys like Halladay tire toward the end of a game, and Doc made things interesting in the ninth before tying down the 2-1 victory. He threw six straight balls to start the inning, and Carlos Beltran nearly took him deep on a fly ball for the first out. After Halladay struck Jason Bay out, the game ended on an unlikely flash of the leather by well-below-average first baseman Ryan Howard. He made a diving stop on a sizzling ground ball by Ike Davis, and then flipped to his pitcher for the 27^th out. Similar to 1993, it seemed like no matter how they got it done, the Phillies were going to win.

It was Halladay’s second complete game of the young season, and he also owned five of the team’s 18 wins in April. My dad and I agreed Halladay’s gem was one of the best games we had ever seen together.

Prior to 2011, my dad and I were convinced we were bad luck for the Phillies. Of the nine games we went to between 1994 and 2010, our boys had won just three of them, and one of those was with backup players. The Phillies lost the three additional games I went to with friends over the same period.

Now that the Phightins boasted one of the best pitching rotations in baseball history, my luck suddenly changed. They won all six games that I saw from the stands in 2011, and three of those wins were the team’s only victory in that particular series. The icing on the cake came in September at Citizens Bank Park. I was there with my friend, Bill Paulino*, to witness the Phillies clinch their fifth straight NL East title. They would go on to post the best regular-season record (102-60) in team history.

That magical rotation made it all possible. Halladay, Lee and Hamels all finished in the top 6 in Cy Young voting after the season. More importantly, they helped me truly discover the beautiful art of pitching and to appreciate the 2-1 pitchers duels like my dad.

 

*Bill and I became friends through our love of the Phillies. How we met was stuff of legends. It was May 29, 2010, and we were gathered with mutual friends at a sports bar in New Castle, Delaware. We were there to watch the Philadelphia Flyers play in Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals, but we wound up watching Halladay throw a perfect game against the Florida Marlins.

August 18, 2002: Harry Kalas Hall of Fame celebration

Major League Baseball offers its fans numerous opportunities during the regular season to honor the most cherished members of their team’s extended family, be they former players, coaches or front office executives. Dad and I made sure we were present for Phillies’ most anticipated of these occasions during the 2002 campaign, and for many in attendance, the celebration recognized not so much a person, but a voice.

The calming baritone to which I refer belonged to none other than Phillies play-by-play announcer Harry Kalas. Despite hailing from the Midwest, Kalas was as Philadelphia as cheesesteaks. He endeared himself to the fans and the players with his easy-going personality and blue-collar devotion to his craft. In the days before he gave up drinking, he could be frequently found at the local watering hole until the wee hours, belting out classic oldies for his listeners, but he always somehow turned up to the broadcast booth on time with a clear head.

And that voice. It carried you to a special place that made baseball an inviting and comforting diversion from life’s daily grind. Kalas also stirred up the adrenalin in just the right doses on every exciting play. Whenever he raised his voice to an enthusiastic yell, particularly on his trademark “outta here” home run calls, he showed his genuine love for the game and his job. I owe my appreciation of baseball to my father, but Kalas played a definite role as well, as he did for multiple generations of Phillies fans.

Now in his 32^nd season with the organization, Kalas received baseball’s highest honor for broadcasters, the Ford C. Frick Award. It’s akin to a Hall of Fame induction for players, and a plaque signifying Kalas’ award is displayed in Cooperstown.

The Phillies commemorated this special recognition with Harry Kalas Day, resulting in Veterans Stadium’s only sellout in another disappointing season. Kalas, donning in a white suit jacket and purple lei around his neck, was honored with a touching pre-game ceremony on the field. Hosts Glenn Wilson and Darren Daulton led the crowd through several of Kalas’ most memorable calls, including Mike Schmidt’s 500^th home run and the last out of the division-clinching game in 1993. Kalas’ family and several members of the ‘80 and ‘93 Phillies teams joined him on the field, and he received a lap around the edge of the field while perched in the back of a red convertible. At the end of the ceremony, we finally got to hear Harry the K himself when he took the microphone to thank the fans for their support over the last 31 years. Kalas’ words carried a special weight for my dad, who had been watching and listening every one of those years.

One of the most touching moments of the ceremony for me occurred when Scott Rolen, who was traded to the visiting St. Louis Cardinals just three weeks earlier, emerged from the visitors dugout, gave Kalas a hug, and then opened the car door for him just prior to the lap. It’s a shame that Kalas and Rolen’s soundtrack to this moment was a chorus of boos from a majority of the crowd. Rolen’s difficulties with Philadelphia manager Larry Bowa were well documented, and some fans never forgave Rolen for his unceremonious departure, but for this one magical event they should have taken the high road.

Rolen wasn’t the only Cardinal under fire.

J.D. Drew became public enemy No. 1 in 1997 when he rejected the Phillies drafting him second overall because they refused the $10 million signing price that Drew’s evil agent, Scott Boras, demanded. The Cardinals gave into Drew and Boras when they drafted him the following year. During Drew’s first visit to Veterans Stadium in 1999, the fans famously showed their displeasure by throwing countless objects, including D-cell batteries, at him.

When Drew came to the plate in the top of the sixth inning to the usual round of boos, some fans sitting near my dad and I in the upper deck took things too far. I guess they counted on Drew to possess X-Ray vision because they stuck up their middle fingers while screaming obscenities. Other fans seated several rows below began shouting up at them to knock it off in deference to the children trying to enjoy the game. That only encouraged the offenders to scream louder, which prompted security to remove them from the area.

My dad and I and the people immediately around us could only shake our heads and laugh. One guy in the row behind us perfectly summed up the situation. Channeling his inner Rodney King, he pleaded innocently, “Can’t we all just get a Bud Light?” I couldn’t believe fans were still getting this worked up over Drew, but at least they provided me with better entertainment than the Phillies, who lost the game 5-1.

Every fan who attended the game received a special item: a bobblehead of Kalas and his former partner in crime, color commentator and Phillies Hall of Fame centerfielder Richie “Whitey” Ashburn. The two of them worked together in the booth for 26 years until Ashburn’s untimely passing in 1997. Their chemistry and humor on the air remains wonderfully unique.

And what would Ashburn’s response to that day’s celebration be?

 

As His Whiteness would say, “Great job, Harry. Now, let’s order a pizza!”