Phillies Might Appear to Be Crazy, but They Can Play, Too

Curt Schilling calls this concoction of a baseball team “a bowlful of flakes.”

Mitch Williams says he is part of a band of “gypsies, tramps and thieves.”

And John Kruk says, “We’re throwbacks.”

These are the Philadelphia Phillies, baseball’s best story in spring 1993. Forget television contracts and labor squabbles and the uneven state of play in a game watered down by expansion.

Just stand and gape at the Phillies, who have hustled, homered and pitched themselves from last to first in the National League East.

This isn’t a baseball team -- it’s the infield at the Indianapolis 500.

Step underneath the stands at Philadelphia’s Veterans Stadium, and this is what you see:

Dave Hollins, an intense third baseman, can be found in the tunnel leading from the dugout, warming up for games by throwing baseballs 90 mph.

Off the clubhouse door.

Williams, the bullpen closer whose locker is under a sign marked “The Ghetto,” wears the No. 99 on the back of his uniform -- hey, they don’t allow triple digits in baseball. He tops off a buzz haircut with not one but two rat tails. And he spends much of his time before games striding from locker to locker, swinging a bat and spitting tobacco juice into garbage cans.

His teammates tend to keep their distance.

And in a stadium where smoking is officially banned, Kruk sits in one corner of the clubhouse, lighting up cigarette after cigarette. That’s before he plays. Afterward, the sweet-swinging first baseman, who looks about as athletic as a slow-pitch softball player, usually can be found inside the trainer’s room.

Drinking beer, of course.

This daily scene of clubhouse mayhem is accompanied by a ear-pounding, heavy-metal soundtrack, provided by Schilling, the pitcher as DJ.

“Mostly guys are real quiet,” Kruk said. “We kind of stick to ourselves. We don’t play music. We don’t have beards or long hair. I can’t believe how everyone makes that mistake and says we’re a bunch of crazy people. We aren’t. I guess that blows your question out of the water.”

Not exactly.

Kruk has a scruffy beard. And hair down to his shoulders. And a fondness for country music.

“We have a good time,” he said. “There are a bunch of idiots here. We have talent, and we have fun with each other. It’s hard to beat.”

Minors and other impressionable baseball fans are advised not to emulate the lifestyles of these players.

“The whole team is insane,” said 40-year-old relief pitcher Larry Andersen. “And there are some guys on this team who are more insane than I am. And that’s scary.”

But beneath the post-adolescent bluster beats the heart of a team that wants desperately to be taken seriously.

It’s sort of like Madonna talking about her art.

After winning the World Series in 1980 and the National League pennant in 1983, the Phillies basically took the rest of the decade -- and then some -- off.

Once handicapped by a weak front office, their stars grown old and their minor-league system gone dry, the Phillies sank to the bottom of the National League East. When they landed with a 70-92 thud in 1992, it was their third last-place finish in five years.

But now, they are on top with a 36-15 record after beating Cincinnati, 5-2, Wednesday night, busting open the National League East divisional race before Memorial Day.

“This team has 25 guys who actually want to be here, who want to win and who don’t care about anything else,” said Schilling, a former Oriole. “Everyone has an ego. But you check your ego at the door.”

The two men in charge of this crew actually know a thing or two about wild and crazy baseball teams.

General Manager Lee Thomas and Manager Jim Fregosi were not exactly angelic personalities during their major-league careers. Thomas went by the nickname of Mad Dog. Fregosi was called Loco.

“Jimmy and I liked to play the game and play it hard,” Thomas said. “We enjoyed ourselves, before or after the game.”

Baseball may not be a science, but Thomas, a former player development director with the St. Louis Cardinals, talks a lot about chemistry when he discusses how he put the Phillies together. On the first day of summer 1988 he inherited a team that was stodgy and still built around Mike Schmidt, a wondrous third baseman who could be downright prickly in the clubhouse. Schmidt’s no-nonsense attitude rubbed off -- the wrong way -- on the rest of the team.

“I used to go in the clubhouse, just to see the atmosphere,” Thomas said. “I didn’t like it. I could probably hear somebody whispering. I had a few meetings and I’d yell, ‘What the hell is going on here?’ And nobody would get into it. I knew we needed a pulse going in the clubhouse.”

Thomas went out and performed a heart transplant.

In the late 1980s and 1990s, you basically build baseball teams in one of three ways:

-- Grow your own in the minor leagues.

-- Outspend the other guy in the free-agent market.

-- Trade.

Thomas traded. A lot. In four seasons, he has executed more than 30 deals, while adding a few lower-priced free agents.

He started by taking the cornerstones of the team and spinning them off into younger, better players.

In June 1989, he dealt both a former Cy Young Award winner, Steve Bedrosian, and a former All-Star, second baseman Juan Samuel.

The Bedrosian deal to the San Francisco Giants yielded the leader of the Phillies’ pitching staff, Terry Mulholland. And Samuel went to the New York Mets for leadoff fireplug and center fielder Lenny Dykstra.

Thomas also sent Chris James, Schmidt’s heir at third base, to the San Diego Padres for Kruk. When Kruk arrived in the Phillies’ clubhouse, the team owner stuck out his hand and said, “I’m Bill Giles, owner.”

The response: “I’m John Kruk, ballplayer.”

To complete the makeover of the Phillies, Thomas began collecting pitchers. He’d take them off the waiver wire or add them as trade throw-ins or simply deal one arm for another.

“Some of the guys you never heard of,” Thomas said. “Some of them, you still haven’t heard of.”

But there are five who are gathering plenty of fame in 1993:

Mulholland, Schilling, Tommy Greene, Danny Jackson and Ben Rivera.

All came to the Phillies via trades.

Philadelphia all but stole Schilling from the Houston Astros for Jason Grimsley. Greene came from the Atlanta Braves as a throw-in with Dale Murphy. And Rivera was another gift from Atlanta.

In the past off-season, the Phillies talked about making a pitch for David Cone, but then backed off when the money became obscene. They settled on trading for Jackson, who had won 21 major-league games since 1989 with Cincinnati, Chicago and Pittsburgh.

“I know we took a few hits for getting Jackson,” Thomas said. “But I had seen him pitch in September for Pittsburgh. And he was powerful.”

Thomas finally had what he wanted: a five-man staff that threw hard and threw without fear.

“If we keep these five guys healthy, that will determine if we will win it or not,” Thomas said.

The Phillies aren’t fooled by all the “Animal House” stories, portraying them as wonderful and wacky guys. Jokers don’t win ballgames; pitchers do.

The Phillies talk about playing tough, aggressive baseball. Free-agent outfielders Pete Incaviglia and Jim Eisenreich add power and grittiness to the lineup. Hollins is on target to top 100 RBI, and catcher Darren Daulton continues to slug his way to the top of his profession.

“I know we finished last in 1992, but we had a ton of injuries,” Daulton said. “This thing has been building since 1989. But it has been frustrating because we’ve been bad for a long time. What they’ve done around here is build a team that should win, that is equipped to win. I think you have some players here that are prime-time players. They’re established guys, who might have a few weird antics.”

Actually, the Phillies are only unusual now because they compete in the era of the businessman-ballplayer. It’s tough to be a millionaire and take a pie in the face, but the Phillies have been engaging in food fights and pie-throwing contests all season.