'Dear Mr. Dork'

It’s time to add a new favorite player into our elite group of baseball players. To get into this veritable Hall of Fame, the criterion is very cut-and-dried – personality matters. Forget talent and style. Those things matter, but they’re way down the list. To make my list of top baseball players, nothing is more important than entertainment value. That’s why players like Aaron Rowand and Jamie Moyer are better than Roger Clemens or Alex Rodriguez.

Besides, who wants a ballplayer that recites lines scripted right out of Bull Durham?

There’s another guy to add to the list, but not for anything he said to the press or did on the field. Actually, it’s how he interacted with a fan during the middle of a game that got this star superstar status.

That player? Vernon Wells.

Here’s what happened:

Apparently the Blue Jays’ Wells had been heckled mercilessly by a couple of guys in the cheap seats (actually, there are no cheap seats anymore, but until there is a more apt term we’ll stick with the popular nomenclature) in Cleveland. As the game wore on, the yapping from the fans grew louder and louder as more fans piled on.

Finally, after taking the abuse for six innings, Wells wrote a message on a baseball a tossed it to the ringleader. The message read:

Dear Mr. Dork,
Here is your ball! Can you please tell me what gas station you work at, so when you are pumping my gas, I can yell at you!!! Now sit down, shut up and enjoy the game.
- Your favorite centerfielder

Vernon, you had us at “Mr. Dork.”

On another note, Wells and the Blue Jays come to the Bank next weekend. Perhaps the Jays should pack an extra bushel of balls to write out messages for the hometown fans?

More: Indians fan wants last laugh
More: Interview with the ringleader heckler

***
No one asked, and I’m not particularly interested in football during baseball season or the months between January and December, but it seems as if the Eagles have quarterback controversy over who will be the starter three years from now.

Things like that always remind me of a quote from Tug McGraw, who upon calmly and coolly slipping out of a jam against The Big Red Machine’s murder’s row of Joe Morgan, George Foster, Tony Perez and Johnny Bench with his typical aplomb, Tug was asked how he kept his composure: “Well,” he said. “Ten million years from now, when the sun burns out and the Earth is just a frozen snowball hurtling through space, nobody's going to care whether or not I got this guy out.”

Just like we won't care that the Eagles drafted Kevin Kolb in the second round when Donovan McNabb, still 30, was coming back from yet another injury.

Tug made us all have fun

John R. Finger ComcastSportsNet.com

Everyone has a Tug McGraw story.

There was a time at spring training — just a week and a half before he was diagnosed with cancer — when Tug didn't like the way Randy Wolf shouted, "I got it!" during a fielding drill. It appeared to Tug that Wolf was handling himself a little too business-like for his tastes. Sure, it was just a drill on a typical Tuesday morning in Clearwater where not much was happening, but to Tug, Wolfie just didn't seem to be into it enough.

	Tug McGraw leaps into the air after striking out Willie Wilson on Oct. 21, 1980. (AP)

"Is that all you got?" the fun-time reliever shouted while running from third base toward Wolf. "All you have to do is be loud."

McGraw then stood on the mound screaming, "I got it! I got it!" demonstrating one aspect of the game that set him apart during his playing days. Certainly, there was no one in baseball would could match McGraw's emotion.

On that day, McGraw certainly made an impression. After his demonstration, every player tried to scream louder than the one before, but none could match McGraw's vocal prowess. Brandon Duckworth came pretty close. So did Jose Mesa. In fact, Wolf even improved his volume as the drill became less about fielding and more about who could scream as loud as crazy lefty standing near third who was reveling in the madness he created. But perhaps even most importantly, McGraw's point was properly made:

If you're going to do something, have fun.

You're damn right.

It's pretty fair to say that no one had more fun playing baseball than Tug McGraw, who died from cancer on Monday with his family at his bedside near Nashville, Tenn. Actually, that might not be fair to say at all. We're probably shortchanging Tug more than a little bit. After all, Tug was a guy who — clad in a black leather jacket, of course — told New York to "stick it" in front of 100,000 people at JFK Stadium the day after the Phillies won the World Series. Of course Tug had to be the center of that party, too. He got to throw the last pitch, leap as high as an Irish guy from California could before summoning the entire Delaware Valley to pile on top.

Fun? That's not even close.

Tug once said that if the FDA ever came into the Phillies clubhouse during the 1980 season, it would "shut down baseball."

For those of us who grew up living and dying with every pitch during the Phillies' golden age, McGraw was the one most like us. With his nervousness and neurosis manifesting itself with slaps against his thigh with his gloved hand at the end of an inning, or taps on his chest after a loud drive slipped foul, he expressed himself in the way any eight-year old would. When we said "Phew! That was close," Tug was saying the same thing on the mound in front of everyone.

But that was just Tug style. He wasn't cool and detached like Steve Carlton or Mike Schmidt, he felt what we were feeling. He knew the magnitude of a situation but was smart enough to keep it all in perspective. It was only baseball, after all. It's supposed to be fun.

When asked what he was going to do with the money he received for making it to the World Series with the Mets in 1973, McGraw said: "Ninety percent I'll spend on good times, women and Irish whiskey. The other 10 percent I'll probably waste."

After escaping from a tough, late-inning jam against the Big Red Machine's Joe Morgan, George Foster, Tony Perez and Johnny Bench with his typical aplomb, Tug was asked by a reporter how he was able to stay so cool. "Well," he said. "Ten million years from now, when the sun burns out and the Earth is just a frozen snowball hurtling through space, nobody's going to care whether or not I got this guy out."

Yes, everyone has a Tug McGraw story.

"In almost 60 years, Tug got in about 110 years worth of living," teammate Bob Boone said. "There was no one I know who lived more than Tug McGraw. Those of us that really knew Tug will always be telling Tug stories."

Even the people who barely knew him will tell great stories. How many bars in towns across the National League did he spend nights in? How about in this city? Geez, I can't remember the first bar in Philadelphia I stepped into that didn't have a picture of Tug above the bar or door from a recent visit. Hell, my wife's grandmother even has a Tug McGraw story. She even saved the snapshots from some bleary-eyed meeting in Florida during the late 1970s.

Even though the pictures are out of focus, Tug has a huge grin plastered across his face and his arms around a couple of old ladies.

Hey, there were no velvet ropes with Tug. Everyone was welcome.

Why not? After all, this was a guy who added a smiley face at the end of his name when he signed autographs. He was a guy who used his barbering skills to give free haircuts to poor people in New York's Lower East Side. He wrote a children's book and a comic strip called "Scroogie." He announced his retirement on Valentine's Day of 1985 with the quip that "baseball stole my heart, but I was never a jilted lover."

Tug says he liked his 1958 car "because it plays old music."

He reported in the team's 1980 yearbook that his least favorite city was: "I don't know. I haven't been there yet." His biggest turn-on: "Larry Bowa (because) he makes unbelievable plays," while his biggest turn-off was: "Larry Bowa because he makes unbelievable noise."

Tug voraciously studied books about Babe Ruth and Ben Franklin and loved Elvis so much that he dressed and spoke like the King as a tribute on the anniversary of his death.

Those who know say his brother Hank is really wacky.

Yeah, we all remember watching Tug strike out Willie Wilson on Oct. 21, 1980, but it's particularly funny to note that his incentive to get Wilson out wasn't winning the only World Series in franchise history, it was avoiding a dire fate.

"When the police horses and dogs came out in the top of the ninth and ringed the field, I saw this enormous horse take a huge dump on the warning track. I said, 'Uh oh, I better not do with this game what that horse just did.' "

There are just so many stories and so many things to remember.

Like the time that kid born in the '70s was standing just outside of the visitor's dugout at McKechnie Field in Bradenton, Fla. before the Phillies took on the Pirates in the first spring training game of 2003. Suddenly, Larry Bowa walked two feet away and shouted, "Tug," with his arm in a throwing position. Without words and an errant throw away from a solid beaning, I watched Tug and Larry Bowa loosen up before batting practice while Mike Schmidt chatted with Harry Kalas a few feet to the left.

What, was Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny on the way, too?

Sure, we can talk and talk and talk about Tug for days. Doesn't seem like just yesterday that he struck out Willie Wilson? Guys like Tug are supposed to be retired. They aren't supposed to die. He was a guy who had time for everyone and was having the time of his life with you. He was one of us.

As the great Red Smith wrote in 1974: "He is a beautiful guy, a sensitive, emotional, demonstrative, genuine, outgoing, affectionate, exuberant, sad and sometimes irresponsible human being."

But he was also, as Smith wrote,"left-handed and lighthearted and not necessarily more predictable than the screwball he throws, but he is no dummy."

How could he be dumb? He was too busy making us all have fun.

E-mail John R. Finger

Tug McGraw dies at 59

John R. Finger ComcastSportsNet.com

Tug McGraw, the author of the most important pitches in Philadelphia baseball history, died Monday afternoon after a nine-month battle with brain cancer with his family by his bedside near Nashville, Tenn. at the age of 59. A cancerous tumor was found on McGraw's brain in March while the happy-go-lucky pitcher was working as an instructor for the Phillies at Spring Training.

Ya Gotta Believe!
David Montgomery "Tug was special. He gave us all great perspective. He competed very hard yet always managed to have so much fun doing it. He really connected with our fans and everyone in the organization." Bill Giles "To know Tug was to love him. He was more than just a pitcher, he was loved by everyone that knew him. He had a special spirit that will never be forgotten by anyone who saw him pitch and he is responsible for Philadelphia's most defining sports moment when he struck out Willie Wilson to win the city's only World Championship." Ed Wade "We were happy we were able to get Tug back in uniform two years ago and provide him with the opportunity to do what he loved to do. Tug was able to share his experiences and exuberance for the game and life with our young pitchers. He will be sorely missed." Larry Bowa "He epitomized what Philadelphia is all about. He was hard-working, dedicated and never gave up. The picture of him jumping up in the air after the last out in 1980 is very memorable. He was a great person and will be missed." Mike Schmidt "He put up a gallant fight. Publicly, he never let on that he had gotten a raw deal. He was Tug through the entire thing. As he always said, 'I front-loaded my life, just like my contract.' His passing is hard to take because his presence meant so much to people around him." Larry Andersen "When I came to the Phillies in 1983, we made it to the World Series. During the Series, I had my daughter there who was only 13-days old at the time. Tug took one look at her and said, 'That's unbelievable. It took me 13 years to get to the World Series and it took her 13 days.'" Bob Boone "I am saddened by the news. Tug was a good friend and a good pitcher, but I will always remember him as my great friend. He lived life to the fullest." Larry Christenson "He battled right to the end like he always did. He took it on and was not afraid of the challenge. Not once did I hear him complain. He was one of my best teammates and friends." Dallas Green "I don't think I can pick a favorite from the 1980 team, but he'd rank right up there near the top. He gave his heart and soul not only to me, but to his teammates and the fans. He was very special to me." Brett Myers "I first met Tug when I was in the minor leagues. He was a great guy to be around and he always had fun. He brought a lot of that to me and I'll always remember him for that. My thoughts and prayers are with his family right now. Dan Plesac "This year in spring training, when he spent time to play catch with me every day, was unbelievable for me. I thought it was so cool to play catch with this guy that, when I was 18 years old, I thought walked on water. He was a big reason why the last game at the Vet was so special to me. To be on the field with him, Schmitty, Booney and the other immortals was truly special. My heart goes out to his family and the entire Phillies family." Chris Wheeler "Tug was a fun, inspirational guy who threw the pitch to Willie Wilson that started the party in 1980. He had a unique sense of humor and just loved life. He fought his final battle with the same style and courage that epitomized his career. Tug was an original and we will miss him a lot." Randy Wolf "It's hard to lose anybody, but to lose somebody like Tug is devastating. Losing him is like losing a superhero because he's one of the most charismatic people I've ever met. We've immortalized him and it's a sad reminder that bad things happen to good people."

Born Frank Edwin McGraw on Aug. 30, 1944, in Martinez, Calif. McGraw earned his nickname from his mother for the voracious manner in which he breast-fed. He is survived by a brother, Hank; three sons, Tim, Mark and Matthew; one daughter, Cari, and four grandchildren.

McGraw, wildly popular, saved some of the biggest games in Phillies history and was on the mound when the team won its only World Series in its 121-year history. He also appeared in the World Series for the champion Mets in 1969 and 1973 and has been a special spring training instructor at the request of manager Larry Bowa for Phils the last two years.

In his 20-year career in the major leagues, McGraw was 96-92 with a 3.14 ERA and 180 saves. He pitched for the Mets from 1965 to 1974 and the Phillies from 1975 to 1984, and won a World Series with each team.

But 1980 was the season where McGraw became a Philadelphia sports icon. Always ready with a quip and a laugh, the lighthearted and fun-loving left-handed reliever struck out Willie Wilson to end the 1980 World Series for the club's only championship in its existence.

Still, it wasn't enough for McGraw to win the World Series without a party. The following day, millions of fans turned out for a victory parade down Broad Street to JFK Stadium. Holding a Philadelphia Daily News that carried a "WE WIN!" headline, McGraw spoke to the more than 100,000 Phillies fans that filled the old stadium: "All throughout baseball history, Philadelphia has had to take a back seat to New York. Well, today New York can stick it because today is their day."

Beloved in New York, McGraw came into his own after being traded to Philadelphia. With the Phillies, McGraw was on teams that won NL East titles from 1976-78, the World Series in 1980 and the NL pennant in 1983. The 1981 Phillies also reached postseason play during a strike-shortened season.

Without McGraw, the Phillies never would have won their first World Series in 1980. After coming off the disabled list in July of that season, McGraw allowed just three earned runs the rest of the season and compiled a 0.52 ERA during that span.

He recorded 11 of his 20 saves after July 31 and was 5-0 with five saves during the memorable stretch run in September and October. He got the win in the Phillies' NL East clinching game on Oct. 4, 1980 when he struck out Larry Parrish, then leaped in the air as the Phillies headed for the postseason for the fourth time in five years.

During his nine-year Mets career, McGraw went to two World Series — 1969 and 1973 — winning it all in 1969. He was acquired on Dec. 3, 1974, by general manager Paul Owens, who died Dec. 26, for Del Unser, Mac Scarce and John Stearns. The Phillies also received a pair of outfielders, Don Hahn and Dave Schneck, in the six-player deal.

"We were a young team that was starting to come together, but we didn't believe in ourselves," said long-time teammate Bob Boone. "Tug changed that with his arrival. He brought that 'Ya gotta believe!' attitude."

McGraw always did things with flair. He broke into professional baseball by pitching a no-hitter for the Mets' Cocoa, Fla., minor league team in 1964, and made his Major League debut the following season. Along the way he pitched out of a lot of jams before heading into the clubhouse to fill reporter's notebooks with his quips. When asked if he preferred grass to Astroturf, McGraw said: "I don't know, I never smoked Astroturf."

When asked about his repertoire of pitches, McGraw said his screwball was bread-and-butter pitch but relied heavily on his "Bo Derek" fastball because, "it has a nice little tail, or his "Cutty Sark" fastball because "it sails."

Surely, all of McGraw's quips and stories could fill volumes. Perhaps even more difficult would attempting to find a tavern or a gathering place in the city without Tug's picture above the bar. McGraw was one of those guys in which everyone has a story about.

Better than that, there are thousands of kids that grew watching McGraw pitch who would slap their glove as they walked off the mound in a little league game. "Patting his hand on his heart after a guy hits a home run foul, who would do that in the heat of the battle?" said Phillies manager Larry Bowa, who played with McGraw on the 1980 championship team. "But it showed he had no fear. He was loose. That's how he played the game."

Summer 2003 McGraw spent most of 2003 receiving treatment in Florida and resting at his home in Delaware County. Occasionally, he summoned up the strength to attend several Phillies games, including a dramatic entrance at the final game at Veterans Stadium on Sept. 28.

During the final ceremonies, McGraw rode in from the right-field bullpen in a black limo with tinted windows and reenacted his strike out of Willie Wilson that clinched the '80 World Series.

"It was like blowing out the final candle on the birthday cake," McGraw said then. "I enjoyed the heck out of it."

"Once I got on the mound, it's like I got it all back."

It also brought to life McGraw's old rallying cry that became the Mets' mantra during their run to the World Series: "Ya gotta believe."

Actually, McGraw's quip became a motto for the pitcher's life. "Ya gotta believe!" was not only his slogan when he needed it most — through his nearly yearlong fight with cancer — but during his battles in the late innings, as well.

After McGraw was hospitalized during Spring Training in Clearwater, Fla. — while in his second year as a guest pitching instructor — doctors found two tumors. Surgery was performed and McGraw began an arduous rehabilitation process.

He remained in everyone's thoughts throughout the season. In addition to hanging a green Phillies jersey with McGraw's No. 45 on the back, the Phils were always happy to have Tug around. He showed up at the Vet nearly a dozen times and even made trips to Camden Yards in Baltimore and Shea Stadium in New York.

On May 29, McGraw made his first appearance at the Vet where he detailed his fight against cancer as well as his initial diagnosis in which he was given just three weeks to live.

"I guess that three weeks thing didn't work out," McGraw said last May. "I'm going to live for a long time."

He also revealed how he found out something was wrong during spring training. McGraw's friend John McManus was visiting him in Clearwater from Philadelphia when McGraw told him that he felt like there was something wrong. He says he didn't feel very well while having dinner with a group of friends and even showed up at Jack Russell Stadium to work on a day off. Later, McManus found him acting oddly and took him to the hospital.

"I was just standing in the kitchen just relieving myself. [McManus] came in and said, 'What the heck is going on, '" McGraw revealed. "He and a bunch of friends picked me up and took me to the hospital. That was stage one of saving my life. Stage two was when (son) Tim and (daughter-in-law) Faith (Hill) got me into the Moffet Center in Tampa. They did some quick research and found out the Moffet was very good. When I got there the whole neuro-oncology team was there."

	Tug McGraw reenacts the last pitch of the 1980 World Series during the closing ceremonies at Veterans Stadium last September. (AP)

On July 3, in his first appearance back in his old stomping grounds since he had life-saving surgery to remove a cancerous brain tumor, Tug and his seven-year-old son Matthew rode through the field in a golf cart to right field, where they changed the "Vet Countdown" tote board from 39 to 38. But the second McGraw poked his head out from the tunnel behind home plate, the crowd stood and cheered and didn't let up until the inspirational leader of all those great Phillie teams had left the building.

"By the time I jerked that number off there and stuck the other one on, I felt like I was cancer-free," McGraw said then.

As McGraw and his son made the ride out to right field, Jim Thome leapt out of the dugout to the top step and summoned his teammates to come out with him.

"Tonight is about as good as it gets when you're retired," McGraw said.

Along the way, McGraw appeared on the Today show, as well as a fundraiser for the Moffett Center in Tampa. His last public appearance came just three weeks ago when he received the Hope and Courage Award from the Greater Philadelphia Chapter of The ALS Association.

McGraw was a 1962 graduate of St. Vincent Ferrer High School in Vallejo, Calif. He attended Vallejo Junior College before he was signed by the New York Mets in 1964. He is the author of two autobiographies (Screwball and Ya Gotta Believe!), a children's book called Lumpy: A Baseball Fable, as well as a comic strip called Scroogie.

Additionally, he worked for WPVI as a reporter, appeared in Ken Burns' documentary Baseball and a TV commercial with his son Tim.

Funeral arrangements are pending.

E-mail John R. Finger