Baseball, Dads, Sons, and the Phillies

One of my favorite pictures from my childhood is of me and my two brothers in front of Connie Mack (the stadium, not the Congressman). It was bat day at the old park. Can you believe they gave away real bats with player's signatures engraved on them? Mine was Larry Hisle. I thought he was pretty good, but looking back on his stats, he hit .266 and .205, pretty bad.

Yesterday I took my son Jordan to the new ballpark. It's quite a beauty. Ashburn alley, the hall of fame walls, the open end, 40,000 really good seats, and it's actually shaped like a baseball field! What a concept.

As everyone in the Mid-Atlantic area knows, it was a very special day in Philadelphia, especially for us old-time Philly fans. Since bat day in '69 the Phils have not actually been a dynasty. There have been moments, and some very memorable and lovable players. But not too many playoff games, not too many winners, and a lot of painful losses.

I've watched the World Series for oh, about 37 years now. I've lived in New York and watched the Mets very closely in '86, and the Yankees just about every other year. I've watched the White Sox, the A's, the Cardinals and the Dodgers. I've tried to look beyond the talent, the pitching, the names and the numbers. One thing I've tried to pick up on is the comaradie. Do they like each other? Are they having fun? Do they like their manager? Do they play harder for this team than they would on another team? Do they give up when they're down? Are there one or two stars on the team, or are all them playing an important role?

On the way to the game, right after picking up some hoagies at Wawa (you know the one's with the marshmallow bread), I asked Jordan what we had to do to win.

His answer, "play like team".

Awesome, he does listen to his coach!

"What does that mean?", I gently pushed. "I mean, it's baseball."

Since I coach him in basketball as well as baseball, and basketball is a more obvious team sport, this was a tricky question for an 8 year old.

He said "play the field really well?"

"Yeah, like that", I answered. "Hit the cutoff man, make good throws, think about what to do when you get the ball. Anything else?".

"Uhm, play hard?"

"Sure, play extra hard for your team. They are counting on you to do your part. And if you have a bad day, they will try to make up for it. That's teamwork. They'll try to make you feel ok even if you strike out. Maybe next time, you get the big hit. That's what teammates do."

"Do you think we'll hit traffic, Dad?"

OK, maybe this was getting to be a little too much for an eight year old. But I was starting to get really jacked up. I was thinking about how this team has already proven to me that they have all the qualities that I look for in a team that can go the distance. Pitching (3 maybe 4 tough starters), power (Howard, Burrell, Rollins, Utley), manufacturing runs (Rollins or Vicorino or Werth steal second and third, sac fly scores a run).

But lot's of teams have all that. What else? Never quitting (50 come from behind wins, 50!). Seven games out with 17 to play. Chemistry (are you kidding, these guys love each other, just watch them!). Only one star? Who, Howard? Hardly. Utley, nope. Rollins? Easily the MVP and sparkplug, but not our only star. In fact, looking back over the season, Remember when Burrell stunk? I called him stinky Pat. His teammates picked him up and kept patting him on the back. Then he hit like .410 in August. Rowand had his ups and downs, Utley got hurt, some guy named Iguchi came in and had the fans chanting Taddy, Taddy! I'm thinking this is a tough game, but we just need to win. We beat the Nat, then the Mets.

We get there early, way early. We walk down to the dugout. I'm taking pictures of Jordan. Some guy in a red shirt comes off the field, stops at the dugout and starts signing. Some kid, about 18 years old, with two balls in his hand, looks at Jordan and says, "hey kid, want a ball?".

Jordan looks at this perfectly white ball with bright red stitching that says "Major League" on it, then looks at me like a deer in the headlights. "Well, thank him!" I look at this guy like, what are you an angel? Jordan turns around and a guy in red shirt comes off the field, stops at the dugout steps and starts signing autographs. Jordan hand his ball to the usher and this guy signs it, while I look up who # 55 is. Clay Condry, cool, he pitched the other day. "Thanks Clay!", like I recognized him all along. The usher smiles at me as if to say Clay appreciated that. I think, not only are they good, but they're accessible.

So we have plenty of time and I say let's take a lap. Now it starts to get crowded, but we push through Ashburn Alley, Tony Lukes, Crab Fries, and I think, Richie would like it here today. We sit down and look down and Clay is still signing. He must have signed 200 autographs.

Jamie Moyer starts warming up. I'm thinking, man it doesn't get any better than this. Like Tug McGraw or Lefty, a veteran, possibly his last year, who better than a home town boy? The pride of Souderton. A guy with a foundation for grieving kids. He could get rocked today, but maybe not. This could be something. Whoa, the Mets are losing 4-0, now it's 7-0!

I fill out the line up card and say to the woman next to me, "look at this lineup, Rollins, Victorino, Utley, Howard, Burrell, and Rowand. That's one heckuva lineup". So Rollins get on, steals second. Wow, steals third. A sac fly from Utley and we get a run. I can hear Dad, "fundamental baseball". I'm thinking, we do this darn near every night, and it occurs to me, we win thing today, and we deserve it. Later in the game we get a runner on, we bunt him over, and Iguchi pich hits a sac fly to deep right field. Taddy! And I think again about Dad.

Jamie walks off the field having given up one run in the 5th, the crowd goes nuts. Love is oozing out of these hardened fans. Here come the goosebumps again. I yell Jaaaammie! What the heck, I'm going nuts. I look at Jordan, he has never seen his Mr. cool Dad like this. I pick him up and I just take it all in. White towels, screams, high fives, lot's and lot's of love. I think of Carlton, Rose, Schmidt, Tugger, Johhny Callison, Jim Bunning, Chris Short, and Richie Ashburn. This games for you guys.

On the ride home I ask Jordan just one more question, and I swear to you this is true. "Jordan, what did we learn from watching the Phillies this year?"

He pauses for a second, but he knows the answer, "Never give up, right, Dad?"

"Yup".

I love you Dad, I love you Jordan, Let's go Phils.