They Have a Look You Have to Like

Philadelphia is not my town and normally I pay no special attention to any team that is not my own. But that ends today. I am a Phillie fanatic. Call me a Philliestine. I do not want poor old Philadelphia to blow its shot at the National League pennant, even though I do feel a certain sympathy this summer for St. Louis, it being under water.

The Phillies have been in first place for months and I like their lineup a lot. They look like a bunch of sportswriters. They are sloppy, grubby and they’re always stuffing their faces with something. John Kruk is Babe Ruth without the personal grooming. Mitch (Wild Thing) Williams is a cross between Dizzy Dean and Daffy Duck. Lenny (Nails) Dykstra is the first left-handed batter in history whose chaw of tobacco is closer to first base than to home plate.

These are my kind of guys, although I wish Lenny would switch to gum.

Yet some baseball watchers can’t wait to see a Phillie collapse equal to the fold of old. Many remember that season nearly 30 years ago when the Phils blew something like--what?--a 161-game lead with one game to go? That was the year Gene Mauch showed such amazing restraint by not hijacking a nuclear device and blowing up the entire civilized world.

This was 1964, when the World Series was eventually won by, yes, St. Louis, and when the Cardinal leadoff man--I kid you not--was named Flood.

Not until 1980 did the Phillies manage to win a World Series. It was their first, which was pathetic, because they had been playing in the majors since 1903. They won the ’80 Series over a Kansas City club distracted by the pained expression on the face of George Brett, who had a physical ailment that he was anxious to, uh, put behind him.

Three years later, the Phillies found themselves in the World Series again. I was there, too, and my most distinctive memory was of the fabulous Patti LaBelle singing a national anthem at Veterans Stadium that was so high-pitched, it could only be heard by neighborhood pups.

However, I couldn’t relate to the Phillies up close because most of them were so much older than me. Most of them were so much older than Mount Rushmore. They had five players--Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, Steve Carlton and Ron Reed--who were 38 or older. Newspapers dubbed them the “Wheeze Kids.” I think they sat around in the dugout discussing what it was like to play against Ty Cobb.

The ’83 Series began poorly for Philly when the second batter for the opposition, Jim Dwyer, sent a home run flying out of Baltimore’s Memorial Stadium. I had mixed feelings about this, having myself once struck out Dwyer on three pitches in a Connie Mack League game, and other writers in the press box had to forcibly restrain me from running down to the mound to instruct John Denny how to pitch to him.

It turned out to be Baltimore’s only run of the game. Philly won, 2-1. But the Orioles came back to take the next four games, even though a young infielder named Cal Ripken batted three for 18 in the Series and probably should have been given a day off.

I have been waiting for the Phillies to return ever since. The World Series has welcomed the Padres, Cardinals, Mets, Dodgers, Giants, Reds and Braves over the past 10 years, while the Pirates and Cubs have both been knocking at the door. But sports fans in Philadelphia have had little to cheer during this time, in any sport. Even Charles Barkley took his spitter and split.

So, I am pulling for Philadelphia to make it to this fall’s National League playoffs. I can’t wait to see how the Phillie pitchers handle Mr. April Through September, Barry Bonds. The last good thing Barry Bonds did in a month of October was dress up like a ghost for Halloween. He has been invisible in Octobers ever since.

I know that there are Los Angeles fans who would rather see the local team go out and beat the absolute cream cheese out of Philadelphia. Not I. Please forgive me, but I’ll be out there bleeding red.

I’d like to see Inky Incaviglia jerk one over the left-field palm. I’d like to see Mickey Morandini become the first baseball player ever to pull off two of those 4-4-4 triple plays. I’d like to see Terry Mulholland do his famous glove-handed throw to first base. I’d like to see Wild Thing Williams throw one of those wild ones of his that makes Vin Scully duck.

Most of all, I would like to see a World Series between the Philadelphia Phillies and the New York Yankees. This could be the first visiting team in history capable of scaring the hell out of people from the South Bronx.