Thankful For a Game?

It's Thanksgiving Day here in America, the fourth Thursday in November. It's a day where we give thanks to our God and spend time with the family and friends with whom he has blessed our lives.

The day usually includes a traditional meal of turkey, stuffing, vegetables, pies, and other foods and treats. It also includes watching pro football games on TV, and sometimes watching high school rivalry games in person.

Something that we don't usually think about or associate with on Thanksgiving Day is the sport of baseball. But I am going to take a little time to speak about the game on this day for one important reason. This is supposed to be a day on which we recognize and express our gratitude for the people and things that we love, and in my life there have been few things outside of my family that I have loved more than the sport that I like to call "The Greatest Game That God Ever Invented."

My love of the game encompasses every way that it can be enjoyed, from playing to coaching to spectating to fantasy. My involvement in the game pretty much began with the opening of Veteran's Stadium in my South Philly neighborhood when I was just 9 years old. Until that point the only real sports events that I had been exposed to were the Big Five basketball games that I remember my dad watching on television.

In the spring of 1971, 'The Vet' opened it's gates at Broad and Pattison, and my dad took my brother Mike and I to the 'Opening Day' festivities. It was an event prior to the first game, where fans could get in and walk around the ballpark and where all of the features were on display from the baseline picnic areas to the booming cannon of Phil & Phyllis that would follow each Phillies' homerun to the beautiful, colorful Dancing Waters fountain in centerfield. I was hooked by the place, and the team and game would soon follow.

The Phillies in those early 70's days were awful. The first three seasons at The Vet, the first three that I followed, saw the team finish in 6th and last place in the National League East Division. But my friends and I loved heading down to the ballpark where we could sit in the 700 level for just .50 cents. Because the team was so bad, there were many nights that we were able to move down to the lower levels in the later innings to seats vacated by season ticket holders.

We would go to those games in groups, often with a dozen or more kids together at one time. Sometimes we took the 79 bus on Snyder Avenue up to the Broad Street Subway, and then south to the Pattison Avenue stop at the stadium. But most times we just walked, since it was just a few miles and our legs, hearts and minds were all still young. The walk itself was often a part of the adventure and experience of having a good time hanging together.

My favorite players in that first 1971 season were slick-fielding, scrappy 2nd-year shortstop Larry Bowa, colorful rookie centerfielder Willie Montanez, and a powerful rookie outfielder named Greg 'the Bull' Luzinski. In 1972, two new players who would eventually change everything would join the team. Pitcher Steve Carlton came in a somewhat controversial trade for talented and popular pitcher Rick Wise, who had tossed a no-hitter the previous year. And a highly outed prospect 3rd baseman named Mike Schmidt would make his debut late in the season.

On the fields, playgrounds and schoolyards of my Two Street neighborhood in South Philly, I played the game as much as I could. Although I tried out and played a couple of seasons in organized leagues at the Murphy Rec Center at 4th and Shunk and with our local EOM sports organization, it was mostly in loosely organized neighborhood teams where I got my playing experience.

My friends and I played our version of stickball in the schoolyard at Sharswood Public School. We called the game 'longball', a game where the defense was setup the same as a baseball team, but where offensively you hit a rubber 'pimple ball' that was pitched to you underhanded on one bounce. You did your hitting with a stick, usually fashioned from a broom  or mop handle, though some kids came up with things over the years that looked like war clubs the origins of which were purely speculative.

We also had a game called 'fastball' that was played with the same stick and pimpleball used in 'longball', but in which the pitches were delivered overhand in the usual baseball pitching style. The batter stood at a 'strike zone' that was usually formed by a box drawn on a schoolyard wall, or that was formed by the window covering on the lower levels of the school building. The pitcher would deliver fastballs, curves, sliders and anything else he could come up with to fool the hitter.

A traditional South Philly game was 'half ball' in which you would take the standard rubber pimpleball and literally slice it in half. The two halves then each became a 'halfball', with the pitches delivered underhanded. The batters would usually face a large wall or structure, a certain level of which was designated as a homerun. We played these games every single summer from around age 9 or 10 until they disappeared from our radar screen when we reached around age 14 or 15.

During those early to mid-70's days of my developing love for the game, baseball was featured on network television in a 'Game of the Week' format. We also got to watch many of the Phillies road games on a local 'UHF' channel 17, and also the Major League Baseball playoff and World Series games.

My earliest memory of watching baseball on television involves following the 1972 NLCS where the Cincinnati Reds were facing off against the defending World Series champion Pittsburgh Pirates. The Reds were in the early years of what would become known as the legendary 'Big Red Machine" and had players such as Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, and Tony Perez. The Pirates showcased Roberto Clemente and Willie Stargell.

In the series, the Pirates took 2 out of the first 3 games in the best-of-5 series. The Reds stayed alive and tied the series up with big 7-1 romp in the 4th game, sending the series to an ultimate, dramatic fifth and deciding game. In that 5th game, the Pirates took a 3-2 lead into the bottom of the 9th. The Reds rallied to tie on a dramatic homerun by Bench. The Reds then put two more runners on base, and the Pirates brought in Bob Moose, one of their starters. Moose got two outs, one of them moving George Foster to 3rd base. Then it all ended suddenly when Moose threw a wild pitch, enabling Foster to score the game and series-winning run.

No one knew it at the time, but it would be the final game in the storied Hall of Fame career of the legendary Clemente. He would be tragically killed in an off-season plane crash while on a humanitarian mission to help victims of an earthquake. Both the Pirates and the Reds would remain contenders throughout the decade, and would both become rivals to the Phillies as our home team finally became a contender at mid-decade.

The Phillies fortunes began to change by 1974, when they finished at 80-82 and were a much more competitive club. By 1975, the team was a winner, and seriously challenged for the NL East title before falling short. That team was inspired by 2nd baseman Dave Cash, who had come over from the Pirates and whose slogan "Yes We Can!" inspired the ball club and was the rallying point for the team's advertising campaign.

The Phillies began to reap the benefits of the development of their own core of young players in Schmidt, Luzinski, Bowa, catcher Bob Boone, and pitchers like Larry Christenson, Dick Ruthven and Randy Lerch. Carlton developed from a good pitcher into a great Cy Young Award winner. And management made great trades to bring in Gary Maddox, Bake McBride and Tug McGraw among others. The stage was set for winning the NL East in 4 of 5 seasons from 1976 through 1980.

For the 1979 season, the team was able to make perhaps the biggest free agent signing in it's history when Reds sparkplug Pete Rose was signed. The '79 club ultimately fell apart down the stretch due to injuries and complacency, but in 1980 it all came together. The Phillies won the World Series for the first time in the 97 year history of the franchise. I got to attend Game #2 of that World Series, a Phils victory over the Kansas City Royals and future Hall of Famer George Brett, and my friends and I were right there in the middle of all the celebrations.

By the mid-1980's, I had been employed at First Pennsylvania Bank for a few years, and was a young father of two daughters. I had also been involved with the game by playing in a men's softball league, and had gotten involved with a team which we eventually came to call the "Brewers", mostly after our love of having a few cold adult beverages following each game.

The Brewers, their wives, girlfriends, and families became my 2nd family over the years, the best friends of my adult life. We would build the team into a perennial winner, and would take home league championships in 1985, '89, '90, '91, '92 and finally in 1994. I had the privilege of managing the '89, '91 and '94 champions. I also had my personal greatest moment as a ballplayer with the team when, on August 1st, 1991 in the final game of a championship series sweep, I homered over the fence at Archbishop Ryan high school's field.

Eventually, the playing career would give way to a combination of age and adult responsibilities. But the game never left me, as I continued to both follow the Phillies and MLB, both in person and on TV. I also got involved in the new hobby of 'fantasy baseball', in which you 'own' certain pro players and where your fantasy team success is based on their real-world performances.

In 1993, the Phillies would enjoy a rarity in Major League Baseball, a 'worst-to-first' season. The franchise had basically collapsed following the greatness of the late 70's and early 80's. That 1993 season would, in fact, be a rare contending season for the team over a two decade period. But those 1993 Phillies would prove to be the most fun ballclub that I ever watched. Players such as John Kruk, Lenny Dykstra, Darren Daulton, Curt Schilling, Mitch Williams and a cast of characters along with them moved to first place early, stayed there all year, and then upset the Braves in the NLCS. They took the defending champion Blue Jays all the way to the 6th game of the World Series, where Joe Carter beat Mitch in one of baseball's greatest finishes. Despite the finish for the Phillies, the season will never be forgotten by those of us who lived through it and enjoyed every inning.

In the summer of 1998, I formed the 'Whitey Fantasy Baseball League' with a number of other lovers of the game from all around the country. It is a 'keeper' league, where you get to keep and maintain control over your players unless or until you trade them away or release them. We have both Major League players and a full minor league/prospect/draft system now. I won the championship in this league with my Philadelphia Athletics teams in both 2002 and 2008.

Of course, that 2008 baseball season was important to all Philadelphia baseball fans, not just to my fantasy title-winning self. The Phillies, after floundering for most of the past two decades, had been building a winner over the previous few seasons. In 2008, it finally all came together. The team won the World Series led by players like Jimmy Rollins, Chase Utley, Ryan Howard, Jayson Werth, Shane Victorino, Brad Lidge, Cole Hamels and Brett Myers. They went back to the Series in 2009, and nearly made it three straight appearances this past season.

My love for the game remains strong as I turn 49 years old. I haven't stepped into a batters box since early in the summer of 1999, but the game still courses through my veins. This past season, my wife and I purchased our first-ever season ticket package for the Phillies, enjoying many Sunday games together at the place we consider our 2nd home, one of the most beautiful ballparks in baseball, Citizens Bank Park. Just last month, we stood in the stands and roared with the crowd as Roy Halladay threw a no-hitter against the Cincinnati Reds in the NLDS, the only no-hitter and one of the greatest pro baseball moments that I ever experienced in person.

This Thanksgiving Day, among all the other things for which I am thankful, I include this game that has meant so much to my life's enjoyment. From the schoolyard ball of South Philly to the family of the Brewers softball team to the great Major League moments: Carlton Fisk waving a ball fair, a baseball rolling between Bill Buckner's legs, Brad Lidge dropping to his knees in joy, baseball has given me memories and experiences that have enriched my life in so many ways.

Finally, thank you, God, for allowing me to participate and enjoy your greatest game in such an intimate way. And almost as much as spending eternity in your loving presence and with my family and friends, I look forward to playing the game, once again in my youth, in your Heaven. To running the bases, sliding into the bags, diving for the balls, gunning the throws, smelling the freshly mowed grass, feeling the crack of the ball against the bat, hearing the cheers, feeling the embrace of teammates. For this great game, I am eternally thankful. Happy Thanksgiving to all.

1980: Not A Kid Anymore

All this year at my Facebook page, which you can view from the link in the sidebar here at my website by joining up yourself and 'friend'-ing me, I am taking a daily trip back in time to the 1980's. Each month I am highlighting a different year chronologically, and this month have been featuring the music, tv, movies, and important events of the first year of the decade: 1980.

In 1980 the world changed, both in my own individual life and the world at large, in some of the most important and influential ways it ever would. Just one year earlier, as 1979 dawned, I was a 17-year old high school senior living in an apartment in South Philly with my dad and brother. Little did I know how much a life could change in less than a year.

I had been dating a girl, Anne Jacobs, ever since meeting her down at the Jersey shore in Wildwood, New Jersey during the late summer of 1976. We overcame the fact that I lived in South Philly without a car and she lived out in the Delaware County suburb of Prospect Park to become high school sweethearts.

Anne was a year behind me in school, and so while I was finishing up my senior year and preparing to graduate from St. John Neumann high school in South Philadelphia during the first half of 1979, she was still just a junior at Archbishop Prendergast high school out in Drexel Hill, Delaware County.

It was at some point in the late spring of '79 that we began to realize something big might be up. There were increasingly unmistakable signs to us that Anne had become pregnant, and by the early summer we knew it was true. We told our parents at the end of that summer, and I put my LaSalle University plans aside to go out and find a job.

In the fall of 1979 I landed a job as a messenger clerk with the old First Pennsylvania Bank, beginning a decade-long career in the banking world. Anne and I, with the necessary permission from our parents since we were still under 18 years old, got married on November 7th that year, and I moved in with her family.

This is where 1980 opened for me, vastly different from a year earlier. Married at just 18 years of age, living in the suburbs, taking a train in to work everyday in downtown Philadelphia. And then in early February, a day before my own father would turn 40 years old, Anne gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who we named "Christine", adding 'Dad' to my new roles in life.

There is no way that I will ever encourage any teenager to get pregnant. It is one of the most difficult things to go through, trying to properly raise a child while you are still very much one yourself in so many ways. But I also cannot deny the love and joy that Chrissy brought into my life beginning on that day. In a few days from now she will turn 30 years old, and is now a 2-time mother herself. Where has all that time gone?

That would not turn out to be the last major domestic change in my life during 1980, however. We tried to live with Anne's family, but trying to make your own way as parents and a couple is difficult enough without having the dynamic of living under the same roof as people who still treat you like kids. By the fall we had gotten our own apartment at the corner of American and Ritner Streets, and thus began trying to give it a go out on our own back in my old South Philly stomping grounds.

One of my favorite little life stories comes from February 22nd of that year. Just as this year, 1980 was a Winter Olympics year, and the American hockey team made up of young college kids had been stunning the world by slipping through the tournament undefeated. Looming ahead of them was a date with Cold War destiny.

On that Friday the American kids were poised to take on the goliath hockey juggernaut from the Soviet Union in an Olympic semi-final game at Lake Placid, New York. Just two weeks earlier, the Russians had blitzed the U.S. by a 10-3 score in a pre-Olympics exhibition. Then they rolled over five opponents by a combined score of 55-11 to reach this point in the tournament.

The day before the matchup, New York Times columnist Dave Anderson wrote: "Unless the ice melts, or unless the United States team or another team performs a miracle, as did the American squad in 1960, the Russians are expected to easily win the Olympic gold medal for the sixth time in the last seven tournaments."

No one really believed that miracle was likely, but the young American team had captured my and the nation's hearts and imaginations with their dramatic play. The game against the Soviets was going to take place during the day, but would be televised that night in prime time by the ABC network. Remember, these were the pre-ESPN domination days with no 24-hour news coverage of events.

I resolved to stay away from any radios or television during my work day at the bank, which in those days proved easy. I went home with no knowledge of what had happened in the game and was prepared to grab some dinner and then settle in to watch the drama of the U.S.-Soviet hockey game.

While I ate, excited about the upcoming game, Anne walked in to the kitchen of her parents house on 11th Avenue and said matter-of-factly "How about the Americans beating the Russians in hockey today?!"

I'll leave it to your imaginations the phrase that immediately raced through my stunned mind at the revelation of the game result that I had been successfully avoiding all day. Ouch. Priceless.

With my excitement ruined and my enthusiasm tempered by the knowledge of what was going to happen, I settled in that evening to enjoy the spectacle of what has become known to history as the 'Miracle on Ice' in the American squad's 4-3 epic upset of the Soviet hockey team: "Do you believe in miracles? Yes!"

In the larger world during the first year of the 1980's, the Carter Presidency continued to deteriorate as the Iranian hostage crisis droned on and on. His candidacy for the Democratic Party nomination received a serious threat from Teddy Kennedy, who I stood just a few feet away from during an early spring campaign stop in Philly that year.

Kennedy would receive my first-ever vote in a Presidential primary, but would lose a hard-fought nomination process to Carter. Later in the year, the Reagan Revolution began with the election to the Presidency of Ronald Reagan, the greatest American President of the past century, but one who I simply did not appreciate or support at the time.

During the year of 1980 we Americans would become introduced to or more familiar with people and topics such as Abscam, Voyager, Ayatollah, Olympic boycott, Rosie Ruiz, Mt. Saint Helens, Yoda, CNN, Solidarity. We would all end the year sobbing over the murder of John Lennon while asking the question "Who shot J.R.?"

Philadelphia was the capital of the sports world in 1980. That spring, the Flyers were beaten in overtime of the 6th game of the Stanley Cup Finals on a controversial goal by Bob Nystrom of the New Islanders. The Isles appeared to be clearly offsides on the winning play, but the refs blew the call. Had the Flyers won, they would have tied the series and sent it back to the Spectrum for a decisive 7th game.

Also that spring, the 76ers advanced to the NBA Finals before succumbing in six games thanks to a herculean performance from Lakers rookie Magic Johnson, who filled in for injured all-star center Kareem-Abdul Jabbar and single-handedly kept the Sixers from sending that championship to a deciding game.

The Philadelphia Eagles had a season to remember that fall and winter, finishing 12-4 and winning the NFC East under coach Dick Vermiel. The Birds finished tied with the Dallas Cowboys, who beat them in the regular season finale by a 35-27 score, but won the tie-breaker for the division title. They would advance to make the franchise' first-ever appearance in the Super Bowl in January of 1981.

And then there were the 1980 Philadelphia Phillies. One of the best teams in baseball since 1975, the Phils were repeatedly disappointed and disappointing in making playoff appearances in 1976, 1977, and 1978. The 1980 team was considered by some to be getting a little old-in-the-tooth, but the veterans fought to yet another division title.

In what many still believe to be the greatest NLCS in baseball history, the Phils edged past the Houston Astros and advanced to face the great George Brett and the Kansas City Royals in the World Series. In the dramatic finale to the 6th game at Veteran's Stadium, Tug McGraw struck out Willie Wilson to preserve a 4-1 win and give the long-suffering franchise' it's first-ever world championship.

I remember clearly watching the game in our little South Philly apartment that was full of friends for the game. We spilled into the streets after the victory, and I headed up to Broad Street with some to enjoy the victory celebration. We worked our way towards the Vet, and it was in the midst of that joyous celebration of the championship just won by Mike Schmidt, Steve Carlton, Larry Bowa and crew that my life very nearly changed forever once again.

I was standing on Broad Street just north of Snyder Avenue in the middle of what was a sea of celebratory humanity, and at the same time there were vehicles still trying to leave the area as well. Somehow I got squeezed by the crowd into the small space between two cars slowly edging their way along. Trying to avoid the crowds, one of the cars kept edging towards the other, pinning my legs between the two.

I started to bang on the hood and windows of the two cars as my legs got squeezed tighter, and just in time felt the release of pressure as the drivers realized what was happening and eased off me. That close to getting my legs crushed while celebrating a life long dream of a World Series victory!

1980 was absolutely a year of change for me, for the country, and for the world. It was a year of beginnings and challenges, of frustrations and celebrations, of defeat and victory, and of joys and sorrows. It was a year that not many others to follow would be able to equal for it's quantity of high drama. And it was ultimately the first year of my life in which I was not a kid anymore.

BORN 1980: Christine Veasey, Erin Mooney Bates, Justin Timberlake, Elin Nordegren, Zooey Deschanel, Robinho, Nick Carter, Gilbert Arenas, Albert Pujols, Eli Manning, Adam Lambert, Francisco 'KRod' Rodriguez, Natalie Gulbis, Andre Iguodala, Joe Flacco, Mischa Barton

DIED 1980: Jimmy Durante, Paul Lynde, Paul 'Bear' Bryant, Ray Kroc, Johnny Weissmuler, Jackie Wilson, Donna Reed, L. Ron Hubbard, Ray 'the Scarecrow' Bolger, 'Pistol' Pete Maravich, Hirohito, Ted Bundy, John Lennon

Harry the K is Outta Here

"Once there was a silly old ant, who thought he could move a rubber tree plant. Everyone knows an ant can't move a rubber tree plant. But he had high hopes. He had high hopes. He had high apple pie in the sky hopes." There is perhaps no more wonderful, in-character moment in the adult life of Harry Kalas than that of him standing in a beer and champagne-drenched Phillies locker room in the fall of 1993. The Phils had just accomplished what many thought impossible. What is still perhaps the most beloved group of Phillies in the franchise' long history, a team that featured such characters as John Kruk, Mitch Williams, Lenny Dykstra, Curt Schilling and Darren Daulton, had just defeated the powerful and favored Atlanta Braves to win the National League pennant one year after finishing in last place. Harry stood in the middle of the trainer's room with the players all gathered around, everyone soaked with that bubbly and brew, and led them in a rousing version of the song "High Hopes" that someone had the great vision to actually record for posterity. The scene in the bowels of Veteran's Stadium can be viewed on any number of video products released from that magical season. It is my absolute favorite Harry Kalas moment of all-time. The pure joy in Harry, the obvious love that he had for the Phillies organization, and the particular affection that he had for that group of players was on full display. Last week, Harry Kalas began his 39th season as the lead broadcaster for the Philadelphia Phillies radio and television broadcasts. It all started with a game in April of 1971 that christened the shiny new Veteran's Memorial Stadium in South Philadelphia. On Monday afternoon it ended fittingly at a ballpark. Harry was prepping for last night's broadcast of the Phillies game at Nationals Park in Washington, D.C. when he collapsed in the press box. At the age of 73, the man who had become known affectionately as 'Harry the K' and respectfully as 'The Voice' had reached the end of his days. My own love affair with the team traces back to that very 1971 season. As a 9-year old, I began to be infatuated with the game and the team that had just moved from North Philly down to almost being in the shadow of my own home in South Philly. My friends and I would ride our bikes that spring up on to the nearly completed but not yet opened Delaware Expressway, now known simply as 'I-95', from our homes in the Two Street neighborhood and around to the shining new jewel of towering white columns that was 'The Vet'. We would ride around the concourse of the stadium, hitting full speed before exiting off one of the many long, sloping ramps that would lead tens of thousands of fans up to the entrances just weeks from then. The thrill of those rides was as great a rush as any 9-year old could ever hope for, or so I thought in the days just before my Phillies affair would begin. My dad took my brother and I to the Opening Day festivities for the Vet, and there we got to see the magical dancing water fountain in centerfield, the gigantic unfurling American colonial flag, the fan-friendly baseline picnic areas, and the huge, smiling faces of a couple of characters, Phil and Phyllis, who would fire off a cannon to celebrate every Phillies homerun in those early Vet days. I was hooked, and I began to listen to Phils games on the radio, something that for every year of my life growing up I had already heard my own grandfather and many of the older men of the neighborhood doing while sitting out on their porches on almost every summer evening. These men had listened to the games as they were broadcast from old Connie Mack Stadium by the legendary By Saam and Bill Campbell, and a relatively young, recently retired, and popular former Phillie named Richie Ashburn. But for the new era now opening at The Vet, the team wanted a new fresh face and voice, and so they lured the 35-year old Harry Kalas away from the Houston Astros organization where he had been the on-air voice since 1963. When I turned on my little transistor radio that April and began to follow the Phils, it was Harry's voice that greeted me, as it would for every single Phillies season over nearly four more decades. In those early years the Phillies quickly began to become strong competitors in the National League, culminating in the club winning three straight Eastern Division titles from 1976-78. They had some veteran pitchers such as Steve Carlton and Tug McGraw, and talented young players like Larry Bowa, Bob Boone, Greg Luzinski, and most importantly a young, slugging 3rd baseman named Mike Schmidt. Over nearly two decades, Harry Kalas would develop a strong relationship with the Phillies Hall of Famer and greatest-ever player, highlighted by the development of a legendary and iconic homerun call that Phils fans would hear across two generations: "Swing, and a long drive, deep left field....Outta Here! Homerun, Michael Jack Schmidt!" It was a call that every Phillies fan would learn to imitate as well. You can stick a microphone in the face of almost any Phillies fan and get them to do their 'Harry homerun call' impression. Harry also developed an intense friendship with the man with whom he shared the broadcast booth for 28 seasons, the man who he simply called "His Whiteness", Rich Ashburn. The on-air chemistry that the two men had rivaled their off-field friendship, and this came out clearly in their banter and game-calling. When 'Whitey' passed away following the calling of a game late in the 1997 season, no one mourned more deeply than Harry, and for the rest of his career there would be fond, sentimental references to Whitey woven into many Phils' broadcasts. As many fans did, I had my own moment with Harry Kalas. It came during a late-90's season bus trip that some of my family members had taken to see the Phillies play the Baltimore Orioles at the beautiful new Camden Yards ballpark. We had rented out a party room for some pre-game food and drinks, and at one point I had to use the men's room which was down the hall from our party room. As I exited that men's room, there walking out of the doorway of another party room at the same moment was none other than Harry the K himself. I was startled at seeing the man so closeup, and he seemed startled just from the timing of our entry into the hallway at the same moment. I just blurted out "Hey, Harry!" and his reply was something that I can still hear ringing in my ears today: "Hey, How are ya?" in that typically friendly but signature voice as he ducked into the bathroom that I had just left. Harry Kalas had just personally addressed me with that voice. As stupid as it sounds to some of you, it was one of the most memorable moments of my life. That's how big a Phillies fan, and a Harry Kalas fan, I had become, and still am to this very day. In the fall of 1980, the Phillies gave their fans what they had been waiting for over a century to see, a championship. But for we Phillies fans there was something missing. The rules of Major League Baseball at that time did not allow hometown broadcasters to call the games on radio or television, and so there were no broadcasts of Harry Kalas and Richie Ashburn calling those games in a live format for our fans. That lost opportunity made what happened in 1993 with those 'Macho Row' Phillies even more special, hearing Harry and Whitey get to call the World Series games together. But the Phillies lost that series in dramatic fashion thanks to the walkoff homerun by Toronto's Joe Carter, and so Harry still had never called a championship. Through any number of tough seasons in the late 1990's you wondered whether an aging Kalas would ever get that opportunity again. In 2002, Harry was honored with the Ford Frick Award for baseball's immortal broadcasters, and subsequently with enshrinement in the baseball Hall of Fame, joining both his longtime Phillies pals Whitey and Schmitty among the games legends. With a coming new ballpark the Phillies management and ownership began to loosen the purse strings and bring in some new talent like Jim Thome and Billy Wagner, and the team began to win again as one of baseball's most beautiful facilities opened at Citizens Bank Park. After a couple of seasons a group of young homegrown players like Jimmy Rollins, Pat Burrell, Cole Hamels, Ryan Madson, Ryan Howard, and Chase Utley finally brought the Philadelphia Phillies back to the World Series stage. On the night of October 29th, in the culmination of a game that had taken two days thanks to weather conditions, the Phillies were just one strike away from finally winning another World Series title when Harry finally was able to make the live call: "One strike away; nothing-and-two, the count to Hinske. Fans on the their feet; rally towels are being waved. Brad Lidge stretches. The 0-2 pitch — swing and a miss, struck him out! The Philadelphia Phillies are 2008 World Champions of baseball!" It was a moment long overdue, and a shining moment that Harry Kalas deserved as much as anyone who has ever broadcast any sporting event. This past Sunday afternoon, my wife and I were in our car, driving home from having spent Easter Sunday down the shore with some family members. We are both big Phillies fans, and got to enjoy both that unforgettable 1993 season and World Series heartbreak and the 2008 World Series victory celebration together. On the ride home we were enjoying the 39th season of listening to Harry Kalas call Phillies games, as the Phils put the finishing touches on a victory over the Rockies out in Colorado. As we heard Harry call it: "Bouncing ball to Chase Utley, this should be the game... Chase throws him out, and that will be it as the Phil's win 2 out of 3 here at Coors Field, coming back to take this one by a score of 7 to 5." Little did we know that it would be the final time that we would here Harry close out a Phillies game. There is an old saying that all good things must come to an end. Every one of those 1971 Phillies, the 1980 world champions, and the 1993 NL champs saw the ending of their careers come. Richie 'Whitey' Ashburn saw the end of his life come, as did Phillies legends like John Vukovich and Tug McGraw. This one carries perhaps the deepest sting and hurt, more so than even with the Tugger himself, who was a truly beloved figure in town. For almost four decades, Harry Kalas came into all of our living rooms and our cars, into our places of work, our back yards, our front porches, and down on to the beaches with us. He brought a magical, story-telling quality to Philadelphia Phillies baseball games with a unique signature of a voice, and with a love and passion for both the team and the game that if you listened long enough made you incapable of turning it off before falling in love with it as well. Now, Harry is back reunited with his good friend Whitey, calling games in heaven, which gives me something even more to look forward to in the hereafter. The words 'legend' and 'icon' are tossed around sometimes with too much ease. 'Harry the K' was truly an iconic legend here in Philadelphia that will never, ever be forgotten. And the great thing is that we have so much of it recorded. We will hear that voice at various times over the rest of our lives. Perhaps the best way to end this tribute would be with one personal indulgence. Far from being disrespectful, I believe the man that I met in that Camden Yards hallway a decade ago would love it. One final call, this time for Harry instead of by him: "It's a long life, deep affection left at the field, Harry Kalas is....Outta Here!"

The Forgotten Philly Series

No one of a certain age will ever forget the events of October 1980, as the Phillies won their first and only World Series title behind future Hall of Famers Mike Schmidt and Steve Carlton, the legendary Pete Rose, and beloved Phils icons such as Larry Bowa, Garry Maddox, Greg Luzinski, and of course, Tug McGraw. The magical, fun, worst-to-first 1993 team that went to the World Series before losing on a legendary homerun by Joe Carter of the Toronto Blue Jays off Phils' closer Mitch Williams is unforgettable as well to even more fans. That cast of characters led by Darren Daulton, Lenny Dysktra, Curt Schilling, and John Kruk will be spotlighted later this week. There are even some old enough to remember with fondness all the way back to Richie Ashburn and Robin Roberts leading the 1950 Phils up against the Yankees dynasty before falling short, losing 3 of the 4 games by just one run. But somewhere along the way, somehow since it doesn't happen very often, the Phillies appearance in the 1983 World Series seems to be lost in the memory banks of many fans. It remains to this day, sandwiched between that 1980 magical title and 1993 near-miss, the forgotten series to Phils fans. That '83 Series matched the Phils against the A.L. champion Baltimore Orioles. Back in those days, the O's were regular contenders in the American League east division. From 1966 through that 1983 season, the O's enjoyed their 'Glory Days', winning three World Series in this span, six A.L. pennants, and also winning 5 of the first 6 east division titles. Three of the O's players won MVP awards in this span, and their pitchers won six Cy Young Awards. It was a great organization, and the 1983 team was typical. Led by future Hall of Famers Jim Palmer (in his final full season), Eddie Murray and Cal Ripken Jr (a rookie that year), the Orioles won 98 games in the regular season. The Phillies that year had the oldest average player age in the big leagues. At an average of 32 years old, that Phils team was nicknamed the 'Wheeze Kids' by the media, a pun hearkening back to that 1950 team whose youth earned it the legendary moniker of 'Whiz Kids'. Schmidt, Carlton, Rose, Maddox, reliever Ron Reed, and pinch-hitter Greg Gross were still around from the '80 world champs. They were joined by former all-stars and Rose' former fellow 'Big Red Machine' mates Joe Morgan and Tony Perez. Also starring on that club were outfielders Gary Matthews and Von Hayes. and pitchers John Denny (who won the Cy Young that year), Al Holland, and Larry Anderson (the only Phil to play on the '83 & '93 Phils Series squads). A young Juan Samuel came off the bench that year to provide speed and spark. The Phillies jumped out to a 1-0 lead in the Series thanks to an 8th inning leadoff homerun by Maddox, after Morgan had tied the game with a 2-out homerun in the 6th. Denny tossed 7 2/3 strong innings, allowing just 5 hits, and Holland finished up for the save in the 2-1 victory. In Game #2, the O's got another pitching gem from Mike Boddicker, who had won the ALCS MVP, and took the contest by a 4-1 score to tie the Series at 1-1. But the Phils felt good. They had split in Baltimore, and would now return to Philly for the next three games in Veteran's Stadium. Game #3 was a gem tossed by Steve Carlton. 'Lefty' took a 2-1 lead into the 7th inning thanks to solo homers by Morgan and Matthews, and appeared to be cruising as he got the first two outs. But the O's longtime team-leading catcher Rick Dempsey, who would end up taking the Series MVP award, smacked a double, and a pinch-hitter brought him home as the tying run with a single. Holland came in to relieve, gave up another hit, and an error by shortstop Ivan DeJesus brought home the go-ahead run. The sequence would prove to be a Series turning point, as the O's nailed down the 3-2 win despite mustering just six hits, taking a 2-1 Series lead. In Game #4, the bats broke out as each team clubbed ten hits. The Phils again took the lead, this time by 3-2 heading into the 6th, but Phils reliever Willie Hernandez suffered a 2-out meltdown that resulted in the go-ahead runs. An insurance run in the 7th proved pivotal, as a Phils 9th-inning rally fell just short in a 5-4 loss that put the Orioles within one win of a title. For the vital Game #5, the Phils sent young righthander Charles Hudson to the mound. But it wasn't the kid pitcher that did the club in, it was the non-existent bats. The Phillies managed just five hits, and Eddie Murray snapped out of a Series-long slump with a pair of homeruns to seal the Phils fates. Baltimore won the game in a 5-0 shutout in front of a dispirited crowd at The Vet, taking the Series by four games to one. Then young and a rookie players, but soon to be a record-breaking legend, Cal Ripken Jr recorded the final out, and the O's celebrated on the turf at The Vet (pictured above). The Phillies would not return to the World Series for a decade. Worse days were ahead though for the O's who have not returned to the Series since that day. Phillies legend Paul Owens had taken over the reigns of the club that year during the season, and had guided the 'Wheeze Kids' to the World Series in what remains for many the forgotten World Series in Philadelphia.

Uncle Frank and I Go To the World Series

The 1980 World Series holds a special place in the hearts of all Philadelphia Phillies fans, and none more so than myself. First of all, it is the only championship that the Phils have won thus far in their 125-year history. It is also special to me because I got to see it in person, having attended Game #2 at Veteran's Stadium with my Uncle Frank LoBiondo. How it was that my Uncle Frank and I attended a World Series game together is a part of the story. It's not that we were ever particularly close, though he is a great guy and someone who I have always liked and enjoyed being in the company of at family events and such. He is my father's sister's husband, so my uncle through marriage, and again, a great guy. It's just that at the age of 18, I had plenty of friends and family who would normally have been ahead of Uncle Frank in the pecking order for my extra ticket. In fact, that I even had an extra ticket is it's own story. Back in those days which may seem somewhat ancient now, there was no internet, and few of the types of ticket brokers that you find today. Most tickets to events were purchased either by standing in line at the box office or by procuring them at the venue on the day of the event from a 'scalper'. When the Phillies won the 1980 National League pennant by defeating the Houston Astros by 3 games to 2 in one of the most dramatic pennant battles ever, I knew that I just had to get to the first Phils appearance in the Series in my lifetime. I was a huge baseball and Phillies fan, as I remain today, and I went out to The Vet to stand on line waiting for tickets. I got up to the box office and there was a maximum limit of eight (8) tickets that each individual could purchase at $20 per seat, and so I bought my allotted maximum, shelling out $160 in the process. Believe me, that sounds like chump change to most of you here in 2008, and the fact is that it would cost you 10x that amount to get into Citizen's Bank Park for this years Series. Well back then it was a lot of money to me and my young family. As I said already, I was only 18 years old at the time, but I already was married with an 8-month old baby. I worked for First Pennsylvania Bank as a messenger clerk, a job that I had just begun a year earlier, right out of high school. Needless to say, it barely paid the rent and other necessities. But I had a plan in buying the 8 tickets, and it worked wonderfully. At the bank, I put out word that I had extra seats, and was quickly besieged with offers for my tickets. I sold two for $100 apiece, and another two for $50 each. Happy at having done so well, I sold the next pair on the cheap for $25 each. I had quickly sold six of the tickets, worth $120, for a total of $360, and I had my two remaining seats to still enjoy the game. The person with whom I was supposed to attend the game couldn't get off from work, and so I was left to scramble at the last minute for someone to go with me. You wouldn't think it would be a problem, but remember, it was 1980. No cellphones, no texts, no computers. The only way to get in touch with anyone was in person or by land-line phones. With literally no time before I should be leaving for the game, I began to make some phone calls. No luck. No one was answering their phones, or those friends whose homes that I reached were still not home from work or school. Unbelievably, my brother, father, grandfather, and my closest friends were all out-of-pocket in that short time that I had to get a game partner. After trying about a dozen or so people, I thought of my cousins, and I started out by calling the house of my cousin Donna LoBiondo (now Mooney). Donna and I were the same age, and I had always gotten along well with her, and she only lived about three blocks away. When I called, my Uncle Frank, her father, answered the phone. Much as everyone else that I tried, Donna was not yet home from work. But sensing an opportunity, Uncle Frank volunteered that he would go with me if I wanted. Well, there you have it. So I walked over to their home, and Uncle Frank and I walked to the 79 bus on Oregon Avenue, took it westbound to the Broad Street Subway, and took the subway down to The Vet. What excitement there was in what was then still a showplace venue of a stadium. The Phils had held off George Brett and the Kansas City Royals the previous day for a thrilling 7-6 win, and so took a 1-0 lead in the Series into our game. For this 2nd game, the Phils would send their future Hall of Fame ace, Steve Carlton, to the mound. 'Lefty' was cruising along and the Phils took a narrow 2-1 lead into the 7th inning when suddenly there was some type of ruckus down on the field. It seems that the Royals manager believed that Carlton had a foreign substance on his hands. The umps went out and checked, and whatever they found, they made Carlton stop and wash his hands. Whether it rattled Lefty or what, he proceeded to walk three batters, and then the Royals' star outfielder Amos Otis ripped a 2-run double. KC added another run, and took a 4-2 in the game into the bottom of the 8th inning. The Phils started to put a rally together, and pinch-hitter extraordinaire Del Unser eventually tied it at 4-4. Then up came outfielder Bake McBride, and the man known as 'Shake-n-Bake' rapped a go-ahead single through a drawn-in infield to put the Phils back on top. The crowd of more than 60,000 roared, including Uncle Frank and I from out seats way up in the 700 level, the highest point in The Vet, behind home plate. Then the Phils' MVP superstar 3rd baseman and future Hall of Famer Mike Schmidt drove a double off the wall to score bake with an insurance run (pictured above), and The Vet was literally rocking from the jumping up and down and the roar of the crowd. With normal closer Tug McGraw unavailable, tall righty Ron Reed came in for the Save in the 9th, and the Phillies and we fans celebrated a 2-0 lead in the World Series. That lead would evaporate quickly, as Kansas City won the first two games back at their home park to tie the Series at 2-2, but the Phillies won a dramatic 5th game and came back to The Vet exactly 28 years ago tonight. There and then, on October 21st, 1980, the hopes and dreams of all Phillies fans were finally realized when the Tugger slipped a fastball past Willie Wilson with the tying run at the plate, and the Phils took the 6th game by a 4-1 final score. No one who was around this town back then will ever forget that season, team, victory, and the ensuing parade. And in particular, I will never forget my first and only visit to the World Series, with my lucky longshot ticket winner Uncle Frank right there with me.

The World Series of My Childhood

For the first time in 15 years, and for just the 4th time in my life, the World Series is coming to Philadelphia. All this week, I will be turning over this website/blog to my favorite sport, our American 'National Pastime', what I like to call 'The Greatest Game That God Ever Invented'. For those looking for the usual social and political commentary there are plenty of other outlets. With the election coming those important topics will return next week. My own experience in enjoying the Series is highlighted by the Phils' appearances, but is not exclusive to the home team. The Series of my childhood were dominated by dynasties in Oakland, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, and New York. The first Series that I recall from my childhood was the 1971 victory by Roberto Clemente and the Pittsburgh Pirates over Brooks Robinson and the Baltimore Orioles. As a 9-year old that summer, I first fell in love with the game when the Phillies opened Veteran's Stadium virtually in my backyard. The shame of that '71 Series for me was that I never really got to appreciate Clemente fully as a ballplayer. It was my first time watching him, and one of the final times. He was killed in a plane crash the following off-season, and I didn't learn about just how great he had been until much later. To me, those Pirates were the villains in the Phillies east division. They had slugging Willie Stargell, daring Dave Cash, colorful catcher Manny Sanguillen, professional hitters in Al Oliver and Gene Clines, and a pitching staff led by Steve Blass and Dock Ellis. On September 1st of that year those Pirates had become the first team in MLB history to field an all-black starting lineup. Bottom line is that they were good, and as the Phils emerged mid-decade as contenders it would be those Pirates whom they battled. I really got into the game the following season which saw the emergence of the Oakland A's dynasty. Those 'Swingin' A's' wore colorful uniforms and had colorful stars like Reggie Jackson, Vida Blue, Joe Rudi, Sal Bando, Gene Tenace, Catfish Hunter, and Rollie Fingers. As the sun set on that Oakland dynasty, we saw the emergence of the 'Big Red Machine', who won back-to-back in '75-'76 with players like Pete Rose, Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, George Foster, and Ken Griffey Sr leading the way. That 1975 Series gave us one of the greatest moments in World Series history when the Red Sox won game #6 in extra innings to tie the Series and send it to a 7th game on a dramatic homerun by Carlton Fisk (pictured above). The Bosox catcher was forever immortalized as he nailed a long fly along the 3rd base line towards the 'Green Monster' in Fenway Park's left field. Fisk was pictured waving the homerun fair as he headed toward first base, then leaping for joy as it cleared the wall. Watching on TV as a 14-year old, I was rooting for Boston and screamed for joy when Fisk hit his blast, waking my dad who was a cop and who came running out thinking that something was wrong in our apartment. That was one of the most dramatic games that I had ever seen to that date, and I recall a game-tying homerun by Bernie Carbo of the Sox in the late innings almost as well as Fisk's blast. The Yankees turn came next, as George Steinbrenner used the new free agency system to buy the Bronx Bombers back to the top by signing players like former A's stars Jackson and Hunter, winning the '77-78 Series in back-to-back fashion. It was during these years that the Phillies began to emerge as serious contenders. The 1975 Phillies were in contention for most of the year before falling short, but then won the N.L. East titles in 1976-77-78, winning 101 games in both the '77 and '78 seasons. But the Phils always managed to fall short in the playoffs. In '76 it was pretty much accepted, as the Phils were newcomers to the post-season and the Big Red Machine that defeated them was in its heyday. But the '77 & '78 teams were arguably better than the LA Dodgers clubs that defeated them. In that '77 playoff, it was the 'Black Friday' game that cost the pennant, a game that was discussed in detail in one of my postings last week. So the Phils were contenders, but couldn't seem to reach the World Series. After that '78 season, ownership opened its wallets and signed Pete Rose away from the Reds. The Phils bolted out to another eastern lead with Rose, Mike Schmidt, Steve Carlton, Greg Luzinski, and Larry Bowa leading the way. But that team somehow faded down the stretch, and was passed in the standings by the 'We Are Family' Pittsburgh Pirates and their 'killer bee' uniforms that were highlighted by flat-top caps. The Pittsburgh franchise that won the first Series which I had ever followed back in 1971 had ended the decade as champions again. Would the Phillies, serious contenders now for the previous five years, ever get to the World Series, or had their best opportunities passed them by? The 1980 season would answer the question in dramatic fashion. That story for tomorrow.