Swingin’ Ted
A year ago we were in Washington wondering what was going to happen. The Phillies were supposedly involved in the bargaining for Manny Ramirez as well as a handful of relief pitchers as the trading deadline approached. Ultimately, nothing happened, but that didn’t make the day any less fun.
Shane Victorino, a player who was rumored to be the chip in some of those supposed deals, put on a show by pretending to sweat out the final minutes to the deadline. The reality, as we learned, was that the talk was just a lot of hot air. However, in looking back at quotes from then-GM Pat Gillick, the Phillies nearly made some deals.
One of those was, indeed, Manny Ramirez.
“I think at some point we had a good feeling about it,” Gillick said after the deadline had passed a year ago.
Good? How good?
“We were talking,” Gillick said then. “We were involved. We just couldn't get where they wanted to be, and we couldn't get where we wanted to be. So it was just one of those things.”
“Good” and “talking” are such ambiguous terms. The truth is some people talk about doing things that make them feel good all the time, but instead end up following the same old patterns day in and day out. Plus, everyone’s interpretation of “talk” isn’t always the same. For instance, it would be interesting to hear if Boston GM Theo Epstein had the same “good feeling” about sending Ramirez to the Phillies, but in the end it turned out to be “just one of those things.”
In retrospect, the Phillies were better off without Ramirez. They have three All-Stars in the outfield and the worst thing that happened to any of them was an extended trip to the disabled list for Raul Ibanez.
Otherwise, smooth sailing.
In looking back, the Phillies nearly pulled off a deal for a starter, too. It was going to be a three-way deal according to Gillick and one insider with the club portrayed the starter as, “decent.”
At the last minute one of the teams backed out.
“It was a three-way deal and we got agreement form one club and they were trying to get agreement on players from another club,” Gillick revealed of the unknown starter last year.
Think about this for a second… what if the deals had gone through? Would they have changed the season in any way, shape or form? Could it be the best deal the Phillies made last year was not making a deal at all?
IT’s difficult to speculate because the Phillies got so hot in mid September and tore through every team all the way to the end. Guys like Jayson Werth, a player who emerged during that hot streak and carried into his All-Star year, like to point out how strong the Phillies always play in September and beyond.
It’s difficult to argue with the results.
But now that Cliff Lee and Ben Francisco are with the team, it’s interesting to wonder “what if.” Would Lee even be here if the Phillies had gotten that “decent” starter in the three-way deal? We’ll never know, but in the meantime Lee will make his debut with the Phillies on Friday night… hours after Pedro Martinez wraps up a rehab start in Triple-A.
That’s decent.
*
Last year at this time the Phillies were in Washington where a dude like me got to visit The Amsterdam Falafel House. It was such a good time that I thought I’d re-post an excerpt of it here:
Now I have never been to Amsterdam or Holland, but folks who know better say the Adams-Morgan Amsterdam Falafel Shop is as authentic as it gets. In fact, one giveaway to the authenticity of the TAMF (not sure people call it this, but you know, I’ll put it out there) is that they serve brownies and make it a point to inform the consumer that they are not “enhanced.”
Enhanced is my word. On the menu they were called “virgin” brownies.
Yeah.
Anyway, the menu is very basic at The Amsterdam Falafel Shop in Adams-Morgan, located just a half block from the famous Madam’s Organ – the place Playboy magazine named the best bar in the United States. In fact, they serve just falafel (two sizes), Dutch baked fries (two sizes) and un-enhanced brownies (square shaped).
Each sandwich is made to order and each diner can add any of the 18 different sauces and toppings from the garnish bar.
It’s definitely a treat, man. Plus, they usually stay open late (but not past midnight on a Sunday as I learned last month) so if you find yourself in the area and get a hankering for authentic Dutch falafel, by all means, drop in.
After lunch, I drove to the ballpark via Capitol Hill where it looked as if there was a lot of governing going on… a lot of gentrification, too. It seems to me that The District has at least one Starbucks for every household. Interestingly, neighborhoods that were once talked about in hushed, scared tones are now filled with people walking around in madras shorts and business suits with a chai latte in hand.
Good times… good times.
//
Between posting it up against episodes of “Hung,” “True Blood,” and “Entourage” on Sunday nights and no onDemand presence, the MLB Network’s show, “The Pen,” didn’t get as many eyes as it should have.
That’s a shame, too, because baseball fans love to see their favorite players humanized. In covering baseball, those humanizing stories are probably the only aspect of coverage that TV does well since almost all of the real news gathering is still done by the writing media.
That’s neither here nor there, of course. The point is too many people missed a pretty decent show about the Phillies. So in this region, Comcast SportsNet will pick up the slack by re-airing the entire series.
Here are the scheduled air times:
| Episode | Date | Airtime | Replay Date | Time |
| 1 | Mon., Aug. 3 | 7:30 p.m. | Sat., Aug. 29 | 12:30 p.m. |
| 2 | Mon., Aug. 10 | 7:30 p.m. | Sat., Aug. 29 | 1:30 p.m. |
| 3 | Wed., Aug. 12 | 7 p.m. | Sat., Aug. 29 | 2 p.m. |
| 4 | Mon., Aug. 17 | 7:30 p.m. | Sat., Aug. 29 | 2:30 p.m. |
| 5 | Mon., Aug. 24 | 7:30 p.m. | Sat., Aug. 29 | 3 p.m. |
| 6 | Sat., Aug. 29 | 3:30 p.m. | Mon., Aug. 31 | 7:30 p.m. |
Unfortunately I couldn’t dig up any episodes of the show on the Internets, but as far as MLB programming with the Phillies goes, here’s Jimmy Rollins pretending to be Rickey Henderson…
And by pretending to be Rickey Henderson, I mean imitating his home run strut, not his on-base percentage.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9dLB5UO0As&hl=en&fs=1&]
If they could re-do the show I'd like to see more of the witty banter between the relievers in the bullpen and the fans out on Ashburn Alley. From what I hear from some of the guys that hang out there, it's like a comedy routine.
This is ugly, folks: [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JuNQOFePQeM&hl=en&fs=1&]
The first time I ever walked into Fenway Park, I thought to myself, “Hey, this is just like Reading, only bigger…”
And older, of course. Fenway Park opened shortly after the Titanic went down in 1912. Reading Municipal Stadium, as it was known when it opened, has been hosting baseball games since 1951. That makes it a relic by today’s standards, but the ironic thing is the movement in stadium building (which ought to be about finished now, right? Doesn’t every city, town and hamlet have its own new ballpark by now?) is to be both old and new at the same time.
Reading appears to have gotten that part right in 1951.
I was the last Philly-area scribe out of the ballpark last night following Kyle Drabek’s 10th outing for the R-Phils, and on the way out I flashed back to a few of those times at Fenway. Walking those empty corridors in search for an exit was reminiscent of a time in 2004 when Jim Thome and I (name-dropping!) did the same thing. See, at Fenway, the visitors’ clubhouse opens right out on the main concourse and the ballplayers have to walk through the same halls the fans traipsed through during the game. So when looking for the way out – me to an elevator to write a story before walking back to the Marriott, Thome to his waiting town car – Thome talked about the ambiance of the joint and I mentioned how it reminded me of Reading, Pa.
Back when Thome played in the Double-A Eastern League, he probably saw the same thing. Just like Fenway, the clubhouses at FirstEnergy Stadium (as it’s called now) open right onto the concourses. The difference is that the ballplayers actually have to wade through the fans in order to get back to the showers and training room. Another difference is that the home clubhouse in Reading is larger than the visitors’ clubhouse at Fenway.
Another difference is at Fenway they sell chowder and lo mein on the concourse. At Reading it’s funnel cake and Yeungling.
Anyway, Reading’s moniker as, “Baseball Town” is well deserved. In fact, the web site Minor League News rated FirstEnergy as the second-best ballpark in the country. The funny thing about that is all the other minor-league parks rated in the top 10 all opened since 2000. To me that should give Reading more points since those other places seem to be attempting to create what FirstEnergy has naturally.
It looks like a smaller, chowder-less Fenway inside, a little like old Memorial Stadium in Baltimore on the outside, which opened around the same time as the park in Reading, but was demolished in 2001. But comparisons aside, the little ol’ ballpark in Reading, Pa. is pure baseball through and through.
For those into the game at its bare essence, it’s tough to beat Reading, Pa.
*
Along those lines, Coca-Cola Park in Allentown is nothing to sneeze at either. Chances are Pedro Martinez will be working in his second rehab assignment this Friday in A-town, so some folks who rarely venture out of the city confines might make the trip up the NE Extension, too.
Which brings up an interesting point…
Here in Lancaster they have an Atlantic League ballclub managed by ex-Cardinal/Twin/Phillie Tom Herr where they play games in one of those nouveau minor-league parks that pop up everywhere like a big box store in a strip mall. Truth be told, it’s a pretty nice way to spend an evening in a place where there are a dearth of truly exciting things to do.
Nevertheless, Lancaster’s ballpark will never be a destination for the hardcore baseball fan simply because there is no reason to watch a game there. In Lancaster, the pro team will never have Major Leaguers in town for a rehab game or the hot prospects around for a summer or two on the path to the big leagues. With no affiliation with a big league club in a city that could very well support a Double-A club, the team is filled with guys just hoping for one last chance or just playing for the love of the game.
Nothing wrong with that.
But it doesn’t make for quality baseball. Sure, the majority of folks don’t go to baseball games for the quality of the game, but, you know, I do. And there are other seamheads out there into the same thing.
Quality… why is that so difficult a concept to accept these days? And that just ain’t for baseball, either. Give people something good instead of a sales pitch and they'll beat down the door.
That's guaranteed.
Call this just a brief interlude from the All-Halladay-All-The-Time business. Later this afternoon we roll up to Reading, Pa. to take a gander at Kyle “The Deal Breaker” Drabek before wading into to the deep end of the rest of the deadline comings and goings.
So first this, then Reading, San Francisco and points Continental.
First of all, I don’t speak French. From the sounds of the language, it seems a little easier to follow than Spanish, which is something I can piece together as long as the speaker goes slowly and uses some words I can attach some sort of context to.
Sometimes it works, but sometimes it goes terribly, terribly wrong. For instance, one time I tried to say, in Spanish, that I was hungry and it came out as, “I want a man.” That wasn’t what I meant at all, but hombre and hambre are two similar sounding words that mean two completely different things.
Anyway, there was a French commentator on the radio the other day commentating on the big bicycle race. To be more precise, it was the penultimate stage of the Tour de France where the riders climbed the otherworldly-looking Mount Ventoux. Reports indicated that there were one million people lined along the switchbacks of the mountain that probably helped to freak out the riders even more. If it wasn’t a serious climb above the tree line over terrain that looked like the dark side of the moon, or the oxygen debt mixed with the lactic acid buildup, the fact that the riders had already completed approximately 2,000 miles of the trip from Monte Carlo through the Basque country, into the Alps and Provence before finishing at the Champs-Élysées in Paris.
Helluva way to spend three weeks.
However, according to the translation of the French commentary, the word coming from Mount Ventoux was more awed than respect.
Lance Armstrong est courageux masculin.
Not sure if that’s correct vernacular, but that was the sentiment. The French were celebrating Lance Armstrong as if he were Charlie Lindbergh or Jerry Lewis and it was the strangest thing. After years of spitting at him as he rode by on his bike, and claiming that the chemotherapy treatments he had undergone when he nearly died from cancer was “performance-enhancing,” it appeared as if they finally warmed up to the 37-year-old Texan.
How could that be?
Maybe it was because Lance could be painted as a victim of sorts during the 2009 Tour de France. You know, because surviving cancer and rumors of doping wasn’t enough. This time, the seven-time winner of the biggest race in the world, overcame ambivalence from race directors eager to keep him in retirement and off the previously banned team Astana. Then there were the 11 doping tests during the 21 stages of the race that came after the charade of a claim that he attempted to dodge a drug-tester. That stuff was brie on a baguette compared to the surgery in which he had 12 screws fused into his collar bone after a wreck during a race in Northern Spain. That was the hardest part of the comeback.
“Lying in the ditch in that situation … You sort of ask yourself, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’” Armstrong told ESPN’s Bonnie Ford. “I don’t feel that way today, necessarily, although I’m still in a lot of pain and ready to get this behind me. It was a shock.
“To go as long as I have without having anything like this happen is basically a miracle. … It was bound to happen. It’s not good timing, but it certainly could be worse. And I look at it from a different perspective, too, just from the curveballs my health has thrown me in the past. Laying in that ditch with a shattered collarbone is a lot better than other health scares I’ve had.”
Fair enough, but it seems that really turned around the French was the hard-nosed ride up Mount Ventoux last weekend. Lance didn’t win that stage, but that was beside the point. The French seem to favor guys who are valiant in defeat than guys with talent who win. Though to call the Mount Ventoux ride a defeat is not totally accurate. Lance finished fifth, but rode in support for eventual Tour victor Alberto Contador. When Contador needed a boost or a helping hand, Lance was there to carve out a path. When Contador needed someone to run interference, Lance was there.
Lance was the highest profile domestique in the history of the race. He did everything to ensure Contador’s second Tour victory except fetch water bottles.
Here’s the thing about that – he didn’t have to. If Lance wanted to win the race, he surely could have. With a team as strong a Astana, the ’27 Yankees of cycling, all Lance had to do was find a way to get Contador to fall into line and get after it. Even after Contador inexplicably surged ahead during the early stages of the race to put a time gap between himself and the rest of his team, Lance let it slide.
How come?
Well, as first reported by Bonnie Ford, Lance had a plan. Ever Machiavellian, Lance was busy breaking up the band in the middle of the concert. Next year the seven-time champ will likely be the main man on the newly formed Team Radio Shack. He’ll take team manager Johan Bruyneel with him and possibly even top American rider, Levi Leipheimer with him.
Contador? Well, he’s on his own. It appears as if the proclaimed top rider in the world will be the man on a new Spanish team. It’s not confirmed but since the cycling world leaks like a sieve it appears as if this is the way it’s shaping up.
Nevertheless, Lance will get to take on Contador mano-y-mano in 2010. Both men will be busy putting together the best teams (maybe Lance will get George Hincapie, the American who turned in the greatest 75th place finish in the history of team sports during the Tour), but don’t look for anything less than another great rivalry.
Maybe even some slippages in political correctness.
After the (spectacular) coverage on VERSUS was lauding Contador as the strongest rider in the world and a great champion of the race, ex-rider Frankie Andreu asked Lance if his soon-to-be former teammate had any weaknesses
“Yes,” Lance said. “He has some. But we’re not going to talk about them now.”
If only he would have fiendishly wrung his hands together, too.
From the my-how-we-have-grown file, we give you Jayson Werth as a first-round draft pick for the Orioles back when he was a budding catcher, followed by Werth in the midst of his professional wrestling career. Yes, he's all growns up.
Selected in the 11th round of the 1983 draft, Doug Drabek was the property of four different organizations before his son Kyle was born in 1987. In fact, Doug’s rights were held by the Twins, White Sox and Yankees before he made his Major League debut.
So it’s kind of interesting that the son of the 1990 NL Cy Young Award winner and first-round draft pick of the Phillies in 2006 is in such an interesting spot. Kyle’s dad was once the proverbial player-to-be-named-later. No one ever coveted Doug Drabek as a minor leaguer until he actually got to the big leagues and proved he could pitch.
And pitch he did.
From 1988 to 1993, Doug tossed at least 219 innings and averaged 245 innings per season, counting the playoffs. He also never missed a start during that six-year span, won 71 games and finished in the top 5 in the Cy Young balloting three times.
The older Drabek was The Horse of the rotation that Charlie Manuel always talks about. He was the type of pitcher that gave the manager, pitching coach and bullpen a break every five days.
Now here’s where it gets interesting – when Doug Drabek was his son’s age (21), he was dealt from the White Sox to the Yankees organization and got a promotion from Single-A to Double-A. The following year (1985), Drabek spent the entire year in Double-A before starting ’86 in Triple-A for a handful of games.
At age 24, Doug Drabek was in the big leagues for good. For six years of his 12-season career he was one of the best pitchers in the National League, though hardly a Hall of Famer. After he signed a big free-agent deal with the Astros, Drabek won just 42 more games in the big leagues and by 1998, the career was over.
He was just 35.
For the sake of argument, let’s say Roy Halladay pitches until he is 35. That means he has three more years to go, which, if history (the Phillies, family and natural development) is an indicator, three years should be the time when Kyle Drabek is in the big leagues for good.
That is if he stays healthy long enough to make it to the big leagues.
Comparisons between father and son are inevitable. Why not … it’s easy. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, they say, and besides, Doug Drabek was a really good pitcher until the end. However, it seems as if the only thing the Drabeks have in common when it comes to pitching is that they both are right-handed and have the same last name.
Otherwise, Doug Drabek was crafty. He struck out a bit more than five hitters (5.7) per nine innings in the Majors and had roughly the same ratio (5.4) in the minors. Doug was efficient as a pitcher. He threw a sinker and made the most of his pitches. Even when he was racking up more 250 innings per season, Doug never averaged more than 109 pitches per game.
This season Kyle Drabek has 118 strikeouts in 122 innings. He’s has a big fastball which he used to rack up 74 whiffs in 61 2/3 inning in his first crack at advanced Single-A for Clearwater. More importantly, the injury issues seem to be behind the 21-year-old and he made the transition to Double-A rather seamlessly.
In other words, the kid knows how to pitch. So much so that Manuel didn’t compare him to his dad, but to another hard-throwing right-hander…
Try Tom Seaver.
“It'd be tough for me to trade Drabek,” Manuel said. “I like Drabek because he's strong in his legs and his hips and he's a drop-and-drive kind of pitcher. I'm not a pitching coach but I like his mechanics and I like where he comes from and he's a strong-bodied kid, like a Tom Seaver type or a Bartolo Colon, and he's got that kind of stuff. And he's young, and I think he has a big upside to him.”
But Roy Halladay… name three pitchers in the big leagues that are better than him. If Manuel wants The Horse, there he is. In fact, Halladay could get traded to the National League tomorrow and still likely get votes for the AL Cy Young Award. If Halladay were to join the Phillies and spend the remainder of his contract in Philly, a three-peat is not an unreasonable thought.
So here it is – what should the Phillies do?
• Bank on a can’t-miss kid with the pedigree and big right arm. • Go for the short-term glory because titles come twice in 126 years in these parts.
Certainly they are tough questions and one that might keep general manager Ruben Amaro Jr. awake at night. But is there a wrong answer? Is this a damned-if-you-do/damned-if-you-don’t situation?
Anyone have a crystal ball?
Name one person who doesn’t enjoy the arguments in baseball. Go ahead, name just one person. And if you do find that one person who says they do not enjoy the little angry banter between manager and umpire, guess what? I have a little surprise for you…
They are lying.
Everyone likes the arguing in baseball.
Some of the reasons for this are obvious. Call it the oppressed challenging authority or the little guy standing up for himself. Then there is the cathartic aspect of it. Most of the time people have to bottle up their frustration and anger and shove it deep down until it manifests as an ulcer or high-blood pressure. But in baseball it’s OK to scream, yell and kick dirt like an idiot.
But here’s the thing about a manager kicking up a fuss over a bad call or some other slight by the umpires … it doesn’t help anything. The umpire never changes his mind, never reverses the call, and never says, “You know Chuck, you convinced me. I see things your way now so, yes, I will officially change the call. Kudos to you, sir, for helping me see the error of my ways.”
That never happens. It’s even rarer than the unassisted triple play. Since 1909 there have been exactly 14 unassisted triple plays in Major League Baseball history. But not once has an umpire ever reversed his call.
So that leads us back to the question – why argue? If the umpire is omnipotent and the issue is lost before the manager or coach even step foot out of the dugout. It’s almost as stupid as banging your head against a brick wall, yet it happens several times a week and the fans go crazy for it every time.
Take the row between Charlie Manuel and home plate umpire Dan Iassogna during the sixth inning of the Phils’ 10-5 loss to the Cubs, for instance. Clearly Iassogna missed the call where Paul Bako tipped one into the dirt. However, Iassogna ruled that the catcher Koyie Hill snagged it for strike three. The ump made the call even though dirt splashed around the ball, Bako barked, the Phillies’ bench exploded in protest and the Cubs slunk off the field like they stole something.
No worries, though, because Iassogna drove the getaway car.
Iassogna blowing the call wasn’t the problem, though. Instead that’s where the fun began. After all, ol’ Chuck is known for his hot temper. Oh sure, Charlie is fun, and relaxed and as nice as they come. He loves to tell jokes and stories and can laugh at himself easily.
But don’t cross him.
As Randy Wolf once said, “Don’t mistake his kindness for weakness.” And of course, Jim Thome once retold the story about how Charlie turned a clubhouse ping-pong table into kindling after a game.
Mix Chuck’s temper with Iassogna’s arrogance and, voila … it’s show time! That's especially the case when a missed call stifles a two-out rally.
Do a quick Google photo search on Iassogna and it appears as if the guy has an anger-management issue, a demand for attention or, hell, maybe he is just an angry guy. What are you going to do … sometimes people are pissed off. Actually, he appears kind of confrontational.
Iassogna, as some remember, was the umpire who always seemed to drive Larry Bowa crazier than any other ump — and that’s saying something. It was Iassogna who got the notch on his belt for running Bowa for the first time as Phillies manager in July of 2001 and the two continued to have some run-ins during the length of Bowa’s stay as Phillies skipper.
In fact, Iassogna is so quick to flip off that mask, puff out his chest and confront any type question that he makes folks feel sympathy for guys like Bowa. Hell, Iassogna has even run Manuel from several games, too.
So what gives? Why does it seem as if Iassogna is in the middle of controversy and ready to throw everyone out of the game? Is there anything in his background that explains this?
Well, not really. According to the umpire media guide, Iassogna has a B.A. in English from the University of Connecticut, so maybe he ejects managers and players for ending sentences with prepositions. He also turned 40 on May 3, went to Catholic school, lives in Georgia and has a wife and two daughters.
The media guide profile also points out that Iassogna is, “a frequent blood platelet donor, [and] proudly works with the Chicago Fire Department in support of the ‘Bucks for the Burn Camp,’ which helps children that were burned in fires.”
Sounds like a good guy, right?
But then there was a story from Sept. of 2007 where ex-Phillie Marlon Anderson fought a suspension following an ejection because of Iassogna’s “lies.”
According to the story:
"I went in there today and read the report that he wrote," Anderson said. "It's amazing that a grown man could sit there and lie and say the things that he said and not have to show up and defend what he said."
He said Iassogna's report indicated that Anderson cursed the umpire three times with a specific profanity.
"That's something that doesn't come out of my mouth. Anybody who knows me as a person has never heard me say that. There was a time in my life when I did use words like that. But that's no longer what I do," Anderson said. "It's pretty sick. It makes me sick in the stomach. I don't want that on my record. That's not who I am."
Look, the job of an umpire is not easy. Far from it. No one ever talks about their work unless they make a mistake, which is sure to give any human being a complex.
However, no one ever went to a baseball game to see Dan Iassogna – or any other umpire for that matter. That’s not a knock on the profession, but umpires know that when they train for the job. They know it’s difficult and they know they can diffuse a lot of problems by simply showing restraint.
But lately it appears as if some (not all) umpires are quick to yank off the mask and confront the players, coaches and managers. They seem to have a bad case of the rabbit ears and ready to jaw with a guy over the tiniest slight.
Then again, we cheer, chant and go crazy when they do, so maybe that’s all part of the show, too. In that case, Iassogna and some of his cronies are the classic heels.
The Phillies have a magic number which is a pretty good indicator that the Phillies are putting the squeeze on the rest of the NL East. Any combination of wins coupled with Braves’ losses equaling 66 gives the Phils the division three-peat. Insert Phil Hartman doing the sarcastic clap here:
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWc-8E3zec0&hl=en&fs=1&]
Strangely, we’re in a stage of the Phillies’ history where simply winning the division isn’t good enough. Call it the price of success. A few years ago the Phillies could get away with adding guys like Paul Abbott and J.D. Durbin to the rotation and no one would bat an eye.
That’s just the way they did things back then.
But with success comes expectations. So instead of Abbott and Durbin, or a trade to add a strong middle-of-the-rotation guy like Joe Blanton, we want more and Ruben Amaro and his posse know it.
So we get Rodrigo Lopez, a pitcher out of the game for two years after Tommy John surgery, instead of Abbott. Lopez once won 44 games in three seasons for some run-of-the-mill teams in Baltimore. He has pitched in a bandbox against the likes of the Yankees and Red Sox and come out on the other side to talk about it.
And after the surgery Lopez may have lost some of his velocity and snap in his curve, but he’s made up for it in savvy and experience. Not to compare the two, but sometimes it seems as if the guys who come back from serious surgery have the look of a guy who as been to war. They have seen some things – grown up. They nearly had something very valuable taken away from them and know how fleeting a baseball life can be.
Lopez, however, hasn’t guaranteed himself anything even though he has been a cog in the new-look rotation that has allowed just two runs in the last 25 innings. That’s because Pedro Martinez threw 63-pitches over four innings of a simulated game on Tuesday morning. Chances are the three-time Cy Young Award winner will be ready for Major Leaguers by the first week of August, which just might mean curtains for Lopez.
But what happens if the Phillies are able to swing a deal for ace Roy Halladay (or a pitcher of that ilk)? What happens if Amaro can make that type of deal and not lose J.A> Happ, who goes then? Jamie Moyer? Cole Hamels? Joe Blanton?
Definitely not Happ or Pedro.
Yes, these are strange times for the Phillies. Winning has a way of changing things more than we realize. Probably more than the Phillies realize, too.
Nearly seven years ago, Eric Junge pitched five innings of a 4-1 victory over the Pittsburgh Pirates in a meaningless September game. In fact, September of 2002 was one of the last few final months that were meaningless for the Phillies. In 2004 all that was left to decide in September was when they would mercifully pull the plug on the managerial career of Larry Bowa.
Those were the days when the pitching coach got punched in the face by a player, and some wondered if it was simply a matter of time until the manager suffered the same fate. Nope, those definitely weren’t the golden days of Phillies baseball.
More like Blood Sport.
Anyway, Eric Junge started and won his first Major League outing over the Pirates in rather dramatic fashion. See, Junge was finished pitching for the year after going 12-6 with a 3.54 in Triple-A in 29 starts, until then-GM Ed Wade called him at home in Rye, N.Y. in the middle of a pizza feast. The Phillies needed some fresh arms to get through the year and since the roster had expanded, Junge got a phone call inquiring whether he wanted to pitch in the big leagues.
Sure, Junge said, but first he had to cancel some plans.
Junge joined the Phillies on Sept. 11, 2002, exactly one year after that day. So instead of going down to Ground Zero with his trumpet to play a tribute to the three friends from childhood that died on 9/11, Junge was the Vet waiting to make his big league debut instead of “preparing to mourn and remember.”
“I would have been playing my trumpet, playing Taps. It's something I used to do on Veterans Day and Memorial Day. I would go down to the town square and all the veterans would be there,” he told us. “It would be my little way of saying thanks for our freedoms. Taps for me is emotional. I'd rather be pitching in the big leagues, obviously.
“I didn't think I would get called up," he said nearly seven years ago. “It's all kind of surreal. I was getting ready to mourn and now I feel alive.”
I remember that day for a lot of reasons. First, there weren’t too many games in the 2002 baseball season that were too memorable. Brett Myers made his debut at Wrigley Field, pitcher Robert Person his a pair of homers and got seven RBIs in about two innings of a rout over the Expos, and Scott Rolen was traded.
Secondly, only two seasons into Bowa’s reign of terror, it was clear things had already come unhinged. Little did we know at the time that the franchise would have to take some decisive actions after some growing pains and old-fashioned time biding.
Otherwise, it was an underwhelming season.
But Junge was interesting. After he threw those five innings in which he gave up four hits and one run in his only big league start, I was all set to write about how he was the first Bucknell University alum to pitch in the big leagues since Christy Mathewson. Acquired in the Omar Daal trade with Los Angeles, Junge was the minor league surprise of ’02.
Instead of writing about the surprise start, the Mathewson angle and a promising future, someone saw three names scribbled on Junge’s cap while talking to him in the clubhouse after the game. The names “Fetchet,” “Mello” and “McGinley” were hard to miss there in black Sharpie just to the left of the Phillies “P” on Junge's cap.
What was the deal with those words, Junge was asked.
Those three guys were Brad Fetchet, Chris Mello and Mark McGinley, Junge told us. All three died on 9/11 at the World Trade Center during the attacks. Mello grew up with the pitcher and the two played baseball and football all the way from little league to high school. He died when his plane struck the north tower.
Fetchet and McGinley were Bucknell classmates of Junge who were working in the Trade Center that fateful day and didn't make it out.
Then there was Junge's dad Peter, who was standing on the street corner adjacent to the buildings when the first plane hit, which was carrying Mello. A maritime attorney with offices a block away from Wall St., Peter Junge was on his way to court when the unthinkable happened. Junge was eating breakfast in a waffle house in Huntsville, Ala., preparing to pitch for the Dodgers' Double-A club, Jacksonville.
“That was a hectic day,” Junge told us after his first Major League start.
It was a helluva story and forced a lot of us to re-do those Mathewson/Bucknell angles we were knee-deep in by the time we met with Junge. But aside from the emotional side of the story, there also was the work on the field. After all, it’s not every day a pitcher in his first big league start walks off with swagger. Junge might have been a surprise call up, but he was acting as if he belonged.
“Some guys might be apprehensive but he acts like he's been here for 20 years,” Bowa said after that game. “With his makeup, he wanted the opportunity and he opened some eyes. He was walking around the dugout yelling, ‘Let’s go!’ and getting everyone fired up.”
Junge’s big league career lasted just 10 games. In 2002 he got another win when Vicente Padilla exited a game after just 13 pitches and Junge came on in the first inning and went into the sixth.
But injuries derailed whatever future he might have had with the Phillies or a chance to return to the Majors with another club. In 2003 he was shut down after 16 games between the Phillies and Triple-A. When he came back from shoulder surgery, he pitched at three different levels in the Phillies’ organization before he was granted free agency at the end of the year.
Then came the life of the baseball nomad. In 2005 he pitched in Triple-A for the Mets and then released. In ’06 it was Triple-A with the Padres and then another release. For 2007 it was a handful of games in the independent Atlantic League until he wound up back at Scranton/Wilkes-Barre with the Yankees.
And then, of course, another release.
Junge spent 2008 in Japan pitching for the Orix Buffaloes, which was the former team of So Taguchi and Ichiro, as well as the organization that featured an Amarican cleanup hitter named Chuck Manuel. They called Chuck, “The Red Devil.”
Now 32, the same age as former teammates, Marlon Byrd, Johnny Estrada, Geoff Geary, Nick Punto as well as a year older than his ex-third baseman, Chase Utley, Junge is still out there playing. As fate would have it, the lean, 6-foot-5 righty signed to play for a team with a stadium less than one-mile from my home as the crow flies.
Yeah that’s right, Junge was pitching for the Lancaster Barnstormers in the Atlantic League. The Atlantic League is baseball purgatory… or maybe worse. No matter, in his first month with the team the baseball lifer (think Chris Coste had he been a prospect) was the league’s pitcher of the month with a 4-1 with a 1.73 ERA and twice broke the franchise record with 12 strikeouts in a game. In 26 innings, Junge had 34 whiffs.
And then he was gone.
That’s what I learned this evening when I moseyed down to the ballpark with the kids to check out a game. I had hoped to see Junge, relive those days in Philly and see what’s shaking with Antonio Alfonseca, who is closing out games for the Barnstormers. However, Junge’s name was strangely omitted from the roster. A quick Google search later revealed he had left Lancaster to pitch for a team in South Korea.
How’s that for an indictment of the team, league and town? Junge would rather travel halfway around the globe to pitch in South Korea rather than for Tom Herr and Von Hayes in Lancaster, Pa.
You know, some days I know how he feels.
Nevertheless, good luck to Mr. Junge. Undoubtedly he could trade in the uniform for a career as a good baseball exec, but let’s hope his baseball journeys pay off with a trip back to the big leagues or at least some pretty kick-ass stories. He certainly gave us one seven years ago, and, as readers of the site know, it’s the stories that make the word go ‘round.
Raul Ibanez went home to Miami on Thursday and slugged two more home runs to help the Phillies whip the Marlins in the first game of the second half. For a kid who went undrafted out of the city’s Sunset High School and did not receive a single scholarship offer, the schoolboy catcher was hardly a big-league prospect in those days.
Actually, it took a couple of phone calls just to get Ibanez a tryout for Miami-Dade College. Two years later the Mariners snapped him up just before his 20th birthday in the 1992 draft.
It’s safe to say Ibanez just might be the best 36th-round draft pick in baseball right now.
But after six trips back to the minors after making his big-league debut in 1996, a release and two turns on the free-agent market, Ibanez went from a catcher with no baseball future to his first All-Star Game at age 37. In fact, the All-Star Game was just his third game back after going to the disabled list with a strained groin.
In his fourth game back he pushed his team-leading homer total to 24. That’s one more than he had in 2008 at pitcher-friendly Safeco Field. Better yet, Ibanez missed 21 games with the strained groin in which the Phillies went 10-11. With Ibanez in the lineup the Phillies are 39-27.
But let’s make no mistake about it – Ibanez’s success isn’t measured by statistics. That’s just too easy. No, there’s a pretty good reason why Ibanez is the favorite player of a lot of jaded media types, teammates and fans. Sure, he is turning in a career year in his first season with the Phillies, but if Ibanez had slugged half as many homers it’s doubtful that would make him any less popular with the ink-stained wretches and veteran ballplayers.
Call it simply humanness and grace. Ibanez actually looks at people when he talks to them. He remembers names and faces. He is borderline obsessed with his daily workout regime, but always has time for a quick conversation.
Yes, it’s a cliché, but Ibanez is a regular guy in a business where there aren’t too many regular guys.
“He can go out to eat with his family at Islas Canarias restaurant on a Sunday and nobody will look at him twice,” said Greg Tekerman, a former assistant who coached Ibanez at Miami Sunset High to the Miami-Herald.
Joe Posnanski, the columnist for Sports Illustrated and the Kansas City Star, got to know Ibanez a bit when the player was finding his way with the Royals. Quite simply, Posnanski says Ibanez is his favorite player.
And there is no second place.
I thought about this quite a bit during the All-Star Game in St. Louis because there I saw an old friend … Raul Ibanez. I should say that Raul has this ability — and you know people like this — he is everybody’s friend. I would never say that anyone is IMPOSSIBLE to dislike because, let’s face it, some people don’t need any reason at all to dislike. But I would put it this way … anyone who dislikes Raul Ibanez would have a hard time defending it in a court of law. He’s smart and thoughtful and humble, three pretty great things to be. You probably know that Raul was the oldest first-time All-Star position player ever, and so reporters were gathered around him, firing all the questions that get asked at such things — from the absurd (“So, what kind of wine did Ichiro send you as congratulations?”) to the more absurd (“When did you realize you were here?”) — and he answered every question in his usual attentive way (in both accent-free English and accent-free Spanish), and you could see every person (no matter their country of origin) leaving the table with the same “Raul is my friend” expression on their faces.
That expression is all over the place these days. Seattle, Kansas City, Philadelphia, St. Louis and back home in Miami. A good guy is having a good year… it’s about time.
Here's another reason why I'm stupid: I rarely, if ever, travel with a proper camera. Sure, there are plenty of standard items chucked into my bag for any trip across this great, big US of A of ours, things that are needed for everyday life.
You know what I'm talking about.
Anyway, after rolling through the 2008 playoffs and World Series, as well as the baseball winter meetings in Las Vegas, spring training, The White House for a ceremony with the President, three trips to New York City, Atlanta and finally, the All-Star Game, it's time to pack a camera next to the toothbrush and contact solution.
This BlackBerry photography just doesn't cut it. Either that or I have to do something about my shaky hand. Nevertheless, here's a photo dump of some of the most recent sites around the big-league baseball circuit:
ST. LOUIS – Remember back when those quotes attributed to Scott Rolen surfaced? You remember, it was shortly after the third baseman was traded to the Cardinals from Philadelphia. It was something about his new team being located in “Baseball Heaven.”
You know, “I feel like I’ve died and gone to baseball heaven.”
Of course you remember. It just added a little more to that annoying self-image problem they have in Philadelphia.
Well, guess what? Maybe you want to come in a little closer so I can whisper this to you. Certainly I don’t want to get anyone worked up into a lather or hurt anyone’s delicate little psyche. But here it goes:
Rolen was right.
There, I said it.
St. Louis is baseball heaven. Take the way they feel about football in Texas, hockey in Canada and sprinkle in some surfing in Hawaii and then, maybe, you will understand how they feel about baseball and their Cardinals in St. Louis.
They’re nuts.
Oh, and it’s not just the kids, the 18-to-35 age demographic, or the grandfathers who saw Dizzy Dean and the Gas House Gang whip the Yankees at Sportsmen’s Park in the ’26 World Series, either. Nope. It’s everyone. They all dress in Cardinals red, they all cheer loudly for their hometown players and clap politely in appreciation for good play by an opponent.
Do they boo? Um, does the Pope date?
Actually, that’s not completely true. When Ted Lilly of the Cubs was introduced before Tuesday night’s All-Star Game, the fans sounded like Philadelphians when Rolen and J.D. Drew showed up on D-Battery night at The Vet. But before it was assumed an unruly St. Louis fan was going to reach for their flare gun and fire off a shot across the diamond, the booing stopped. Sure, it was loud, but it was good natured.
Darnit, it was friendly.
But c’mon… there is nothing more odious and ridiculous that comparing the fans of St. Louis to the fans of Philadelphia. It’s just a dumb exercise. Different folks, different strokes.
However, the friendliest people on earth just might live in St. Louis. Make that obscene friendly. It’s like cartoonish friendliness, the kind that makes Will Rogers look like surly ol’ Dick Cheney. So mix that with the Budweiser Beer that flows deeper than the mighty Mississippi just spitting distance away from the ballpark and the surprisingly majestic Gateway Arch, and it’s no wonder everyone is so tickled and happy.
And it’s no wonder they love those Cardinals.
I saw the strangest thing yesterday while walking from the hotel (which just so happened to be located on the spot where President Harry S Truman was photographed in one of history’s greatest moments of taunting when he held up the Chicago newspaper that read, “Dewey Defeats Truman) to the ballpark for an evening of All-Star baseball, rooftop sniper sightings and Pedro-mania! What I saw was an old lady, with an uncanny resemblance to Estelle Getty, strolling around town with a Willie McGee t-shirt.
Seriously, Willie McGee! I mean, who didn’t love Willie McGee – he was a terrific ballplayer. But who would ever put Willie McGee’s visage on a t-shirt and then sell it to people. It was the weirdest thing ever.
Maybe not as weird as the veritable throng of people that lined the downtown streets like it was V-E Day and tossed back some Budweiser and some Mardi Gras beads as the All-Stars paraded from their digs at the Hyatt to Busch Stadium. The players weren’t doing anything other than riding in a car. Some waved. Others scowled. Yadier Molina, the Cardinals’ catcher, tossed baseball cards to the throng. Reports are his throws repeatedly fell short.
Oh, and get this: during the All-Star Game I crossed paths with the great Stan Musial. They called Stan, “The Man,” and for good reason. One look at his career statistics and it’s tough not to wonder why he was given the nickname of a mere mortal. Man? No, that guy could hit like 20 Men, but “Stan The Men,” doesn’t have the same ring.
Nevertheless, approaching his 90th birthday, Stan gets around in a wheelchair these days. He also doesn’t carry around a harmonica and inexplicably break into song the way he used to on those corny baseball reels. He also is depicted in his classic batting stance in 15-feet of bronze statue in front of the entrance of the new Busch Stadium located on a stretch of road named, Stan Musial Drive.
So yes, Stan Musial is kind of a big deal in these parts. People lose their minds when they see him up close even though he retired as a player at age 42 in 1963.
But get this, Stan gave me his autograph last night. It was a pre-emptive autographing. He just rolled over and handed me a postcard with his picture and signature on it. I didn’t ask – hadn’t even occurred to me that one should ask Stan Musial for his autograph – and I’m not sure it’s even something I need. However, Stan just assumed that people want his autograph so he travels with a pile of signed cards and hands them out like gum drops.
Unsolicited autographing? Really? Cool.
Maybe that just goes to show how crazy they are for baseball in St. Louis. After all, Stan Musial rolls with piles of autographs to drop onto the populace like confetti. In fact, he’s how goofy St. Louis is for baseball – old ladies who look like Estelle Getty wear Willie McGee shirts and young kids with iPhones in front of a PlayStation game at the massive baseball mall the constructed on the downtown streets, wear replica shirts with Musial’s No. 6 on the back.
St. Louis, thy name is Baseballtopia.
But for every Willie McGee and Stan Musial shirt worn, there are 9,173 people wearing something celebrating Albert Pujols. Stan is The Man, Albert is The King or, El Hombre. The truth is Albert Pujols is so popular and beloved in St. Louis that he could strangle a man to death in cold blood in front of thousands of people beneath the Gateway Arch and the town would be cool with it.
They would probably say the guy had it coming and hope that by strangling a guy Pujols didn’t mess up his swing in any way.
Yep, they love baseball in St. Louis. When describing Philadelphia fans as “frontrunners” last year on the now-defunct “Best Damn Sports Show,” Jimmy Rollins cited St. Louis and the love the citizens have for the Cardinals as an example of how ballplayers like the fans to behave.
Guess what? Rollins isn’t the only one with that sentiment. It is Baseball Heaven, after all.
Shirley Crow
Who’s the boss?
You wanna when you realize they have nothing to work with? It’s when they trot out Jack Clark with the Home Run Derby trophy to the raucous strains of Pat Benatar’s Hit Me With Your Best Shot.
Do these folks know how to party or what?
Actually, they introduced Jack Clark as “Jack The Ripper.” As far as nicknames go, that’s a little too obvious. Kind of boring, too. “Jack The Ripper?” C’mon St. Louis, you’re better than that…
Well, maybe not. Stan Musial was, “Stan The Man.”
Duh.
What’s it going to be, “Stan The Boy?” Of course it’s “Stan The Man.” Why not get a little creative and try something with Musial?
Come on, work with me, folks.
After taking a gander at Jack Clark, “Jack The Buffet Line” is probably more apt. Still, to take nothing away from Clark, he was the Runnin’ Red Birds’ slugger. In three years with the Cards, Clark hit 66 homers. That’s 22 in ’85 and 35 in ’87. Clark was a slugger in an age where 35 homers was a lot. In fact, 35 homers was the most Clark ever hit in his career.
In comparison, Chase Utley has clubbed at least 30 homers in two of the past three seasons and already has 20 this year. No one considers Utley a home run hitter, but in the past two-and-a-half years, Utley has cracked 75 homers. Clark’s best three-year homer stretch was 87 between 1987 to 1989.
Utley will crush that with an average second half.
Should we start calling him “Chase The Ripper” or just marvel in how much the game has changed in a relatively short time.
OK, someone crank up the Benatar.
Just did a stroll around the press box and noticed the Home Run Derby on TV… what’s with those tail lines coming off the ball? Is that cool?
I’ll tell you what is not cool (and by that I don’t mean jerky, just geeky), Jayson Stark is tweeting his crazy facts and stats about the Home Run Derby. There’s this one for instance:
Albert will be the 12th straight hometown Derby participant not to win -- unless everybody else gets shut out. Last to win: Sandberg in '90
Or:
This is only the 2nd swingoff since they abandoned the old format, which broke ties based on season totals. The other: 2007, won by Pujols!
And:
Howard 6 HR in last 9 swings. But will it be enough?
I think I’m going to stop following him.
(I'm joking, Jayson, I'm joking...)
Nevertheless, Ryan Howard climbed into first place in the Home Run Derby, but will have to hope for a slump from Prince Fielder and David Cruz. Certainly a Cruz-Prince final was not what the heads at ESPN wanted, but sometimes reality TV shows take a crazy turn.
Note: Howard dropped out of the top spot while writing this. Prince Fielder knocked him out of the finals.
So before the next walk around the box, here are some more facts:
The last time the All-Star Game was in St. Louis was 1966. The 42 years between All-Star Games is the longest span between hosting the Midsummer Classic. However, Kansas City seems poised to break it. The All-Star Game hasn’t been to KC since 1973.
Maybe they ought to have the All-Star Game in Las Vegas? Why not… the Winter Meetings were there last year and it was a huge hit. This December they’re having them in Indianapolis. Vegas to Indianapolis.
More facts:
The last time an NL team sent its entire outfield to the All-Star Game was in 1972 when Pittsburgh sent Willie Stargell, Al Oliver and Roberto Clemente. In the late 1970s, the Red Sox did it three years in a row.
President Barack Obama will throw the ceremonial first pitch at Tuesday’s game. The last President to do this was George H.W. Bush in 1992. President G.H.W. Bush did it in 1991, too.
Zzzzzzzzzz.
So Ryan Howard will move on to the second round since the Twins’ Joe Mauer only hit five home runs. Howard didn’t look awesome, like he’s known to be with some bombs during actual games, but he hit one 470-feet plus.
That counts.
Instead of having Mick Billmeyer pitch to him as he usually does, Howard’s high school coach was thrown into the gig. That’s cool. After all, when does a guy from the St. Louis suburbs ever get to hang out at the All-Star Game.
But you know, what about Mick? All he gets is batting practice.
Then again, when you meet Mick and talk to him, you realize the guy is living a charmed life. The guy knows a lot about catching and all that, but really every day he has in the big leagues is something else. Besides, it’s guys like Mick who make the big leagues interesting.
Anyway, Albert Pujols came up and suddenly the ballpark turned into the dance floor at the club with all the camera lights flashing.
On another note, it would seem that the ball would fly out of the park considering how humid it is. It’s downright soupy here in The Loo, and much too warm for my liking. However, a few of the ol’ salts still banging around the big league writing circuit say that for St. Louis in July this weather is downright temperate.
Plus, it’s difficult for paint to dry in this type of climate. If one were to ask if a basic, one coat of paint on a wall would dry faster than the Home Run Derby to end, it would be a push.
As a betting man I’d take paint in a squeaker. That’s especially the case with Pujols needing his last swing to forge a tie to get into the “swing-off” with David Cruz and Carlos Pena. The winner advances and the loser(s) get to kick back with the kids running wild on the sidelines with their dads.