Dutch gets his due

The easy part is making the jokes.

A favorite is the one that was the most obvious, like how Darren Daulton must be pleased that he was elected into the Phillies’ Wall of Fame now instead of a couple years down the road. Considering that the ex-catcher has claimed that certain folks will “ascend” into space at the conclusion of the Mayan calendar on Dec. 21, 2012 at precisely 11:11 a.m. Greenwich Mean Time, it’s good that Daulton got his due now.

His post-baseball life has also been rife with tabloid fodder, too. There have been DUI charges, he’s had his license suspended, been arrested for domestic abuse, and he spent two months in jail for contempt of court after refusing to abide by the terms of a legal agreement related to the divorce from his second wife.

And to think, he was thisclose to becoming the Phillies’ manager instead of Larry Bowa. Imagine how those teams could have turned out.

These days, though, Daulton appears to be past all of that. Reasonably fit for a 48-year old man who spent most of his adult life strapped into catcher’s gear and had nearly a dozen different knee surgeries, Daulton mane of hair that fell out of his batting helmet is beginning to thin out. To compensate, he has a neat beard outlining his jaw line and a tan that would put George Hamilton to shame.

His skin is like rich, luxurious Corinthian leather.

“I’ve been driving with the top down,” Daulton said about his deep, sun-enhanced hue.

There was plenty of talk about the past with Daulton on Tuesday afternoon at the Bank where he was officially welcomed into the club’s Wall of Fame. The ceremony in which a plaque bearing his likeness will be tacked to the wall in Ashburn Alley will take place on Aug. 6.

Chalk up Daulton’s election as one where intangibles like leadership and hard work trumped all.

“I never saw anyone work harder during a rehab,” team general partner David Montgomery recalled about the winter of 1986 and 1987 when Daulton worked out at the Vet in an attempt to return from one of those knee surgeries.

Essentially, that was the essence of Daulton… he always had to work and it never looked easy. Though he went to the All-Star Game three times and was the fourth catcher to lead the National League in RBIs during the 1992 season, effort was paramount. Injuries robbed him of some good years and certainly some bad choices were made along the way, but when it all came together it was pretty sweet.

Look at that 1993 season where Daulton was the straw that stirred the drink. That season where the Phillies won the NL East and got to the World Series to face the Blue Jays, Daulton finished seventh in the MVP voting despite the fact that a teammate finished second in the voting and he batted just .257 with 24 homers.

The number that slips through the cracks is that Daulton caught 146 games that season. Yeah, no wonder he was always having surgery. Daulton caught 141 games in 1992, too, which eventually led to him not being able to catch at all after the 1995 season.

“There was one thing I could always eliminate, and that was if I worked my tail off I wouldn't have to look back if I didn't make it and second-guess myself,” Daulton said. “After hurting my knee early in my career, that was a moment I had to make a decision on whether I was going to play major-league baseball or not. The things I felt I had control of I tried to accomplish that.”

Control when it came to baseball was the one thing Daulton had. However, like everything else that didn’t come easy, either. As Daulton explains, it took a slight by his manager and another soul-searching decision for him to take over the role he became most known for.

“I remember (manager Jim Fregosi) pinch-hitting for me in the ninth inning in Pittsburgh with Ricky Jordan [in 1991] and I got a little peeved,” Daulton said. “I went in and said ‘Fregos, I thought I was your everyday catcher,’ and he said, ‘Dutch, until you can prove to me you can hit left-handed pitching in the big-leagues, I'm going to pinch-hit for you late in the game.’ He said, ‘You've been here the longest, they’ve turned the club over — Schmitty is no longer here, Lefty’s gone, so you’re the guy who needs to step up and be the leader of the ballclub.’

“From that point on, I decided that’s my job, and he kind of reiterated we need a leader and I was obviously the guy running the show behind the plate, so that was probably the first night it dawned on me, if I was going to remain here, I was going to have to be the club leader ... and also learn to hit left-handed pitching.”

Daulton never really hit lefties all that well during his career (just .233), though by the end of his career there was no discernment in the statistics against either handed pitcher. Moreover, though he was no longer the catcher, Daulton was the leader the Florida Marlins needed when they made the mad dash to the World Series victory in 1997.

Simply put, prior to the current run by the franchise, Daulton may have been one of the most important players to ever wear the team’s uniform. For the time and the place there were not too many players who had an impact like Dutch. Of course, importance of a player belies simple things such as numbers on a page and in that regard Daulton is both simple and complex.

Kind of like the man himself.

Thome departs the same way he entered

Jim Thome wanted to step out of the batter’s box, wave to the crowd and doff his Twins’ batting helmet to the fans at the Bank on Friday night. As the cheers grew steadily louder as he walked from the visitor’s on-deck circle to the plate, Thome pointed out that the time wasn’t right.

Returning to the ballpark he helped open with a home run into the second deck for the first (unofficial) hit with his third different team, Thome wished there was some way he could have acknowledged the Philly fans. But as a pinch hitter in the top of the fifth inning with the game still very much in the balance, it would have been very odd. See, Thome worries about things like respect for the game and the opponent as well as the proper way to play the game.

Yes, baseball really matters to Jim Thome.

He thought about it again on Saturday night, too, when his two-run home run in the ninth inning started a five-run rally for the Twins that lead to the ugliest loss of the season for the Phillies. This time the ovation for the rocket Thome belted into the second bullpen (estimated at 466-feet) was mostly nostalgic. Sure, it was the future Hall of Famer’s 570th homer and was a shot off the 30th different team, but it was kind of a farewell to his old hometown fans. The standing ovation was a tribute for a guy who got the whole thing started for the Phillies.

Would this new golden era of Phillies baseball been possible if Thome hadn’t signed with the Phillies before the 2003 season? When he left Cleveland after 12 years and 334 homers it sparked a resurgence that turned Philadelphia from a place where ballplayers ran from as soon as they could, to a destination.

Could the Phillies have gotten Pedro Martinez, Cliff Lee, and Roy Halladay or been able to keep Chase Utley, Jimmy Rollins and Cole Hamels if Thome hadn’t first shown up? Would Charlie Manuel have come to Philly if it hadn’t been for Big Jim? Hell, would Ryan Howard ever been a five-year, $125 million man without Thome?

Short answer… no.

“We needed to do something at the time,” Rollins said. “He brought excitement back to Philly baseball.”

It was a long time coming, too. So if the fans want to give Thome a standing ovation even though he helped the Twins beat the Phillies on Saturday night, it’s OK. For a pretty obvious reason, it felt right.

“That was pretty special. For the fans to do that, it was their way of showing respect and me telling them that I thought it was pretty cool,” Thome said after Saturday’s game. “The home run [Saturday] brought back a lot of memories.”

Thome hit his 400th homer at Citizens Bank Park and is closing in on the rare 600-home run plateau. In fact, if Thome gets to 600 he will be just the eighth player to do it (assuming Alex Rodriguez beats him there), but just the fifth slugger to reach the mark having never been linked to performance-enhancing drug use.

In other words, there’s no other way to view Thome other than as one of the greatest home run hitters to ever live.

“For me, it's humbling to talk about,” Thome said, acknowledging that he was at the “latter” part of his career. “When you get to this stage, it's something. It's pretty surreal to me. I'm just humbled and blessed.”

Actually, his homer on Saturday very likely could be his last plate appearance in the ballpark he christened with that homer back in 2004. After all, he’s going to turn 40 in August and is pretty much just a pinch hitter and a DH these days. He’s not the threat he once was during his two full seasons with the Phillies—where he hit 89 homers—or the first couple of seasons with the White Sox.

But you know what? Thome is cool with all of that. He understands that he has to make some changes and he’s willing to slide into a support role for the Twins’ stars, Joe Mauer and Justin Morneau. Whatever it takes to get another shot at some October baseball, Thome will do what it takes.

“I'm a team guy, and this whole group here is filled with team guys,” he said. “It's nice to talk about home run records. I'm humbled by that. I'm really excited to talk about winning.”

Yes, the end is creeping ever so closer, and the names Thome passes on the all-time lists get more impressive every time he hits the ball. For instance, home run No. 570 pushed him past Rafael Palmeiro into sole possession of 11th place on the all-time homer list. Harmon Killebrew is just ahead at No. 10 with 573 homers.

Plus, with 1,584 RBIs Thome is tied with Killebrew and Rogers Hornsby for 35th all-time. Six more ribbies ties him with Andre Dawson and 11 more equal Mike Schmidt and George Brett. Interestingly, two more seasons could push him past Reggie Jackson for the most strikeouts ever, as well as into the top 5 in walks.

Indeed, it’s been a pretty nice career for Big Jim, though he warns there is still plenty of baseball left for him to play. Last weekend very well could have been Thome’s last stop at the Bank, but not his last lap around the track.

“I don’t think so,” Thome said when asked if 2010 will be his last season. “For me, not yet. Maybe soon. I have kids and I want to be with my kids, but I think you know it [time to retire]. When the time is right maybe I’ll wake up and say, ‘You know what, maybe this is it.’ It’s not there yet. I love the game and I have an appreciation toward the game and I respect what’s been given to me.”

And where would the Phillies be without him? Probably not where they are now.

A foul most foul

As soon as it went down, Jim Joyce’s infamous call at first base to end Armando Galarraga’s chance at a perfect game had already been deconstructed and spit back into heavy rotation. It quickly registered as a trend on Twitter while folks argued if it was the worst call in a regular-season baseball game ever.

But then a funny thing happened—the whole thing was celebrated. Joyce, Galarraga, the Detroit Tigers and the sport of baseball… every last one of them were looked at as heroic and/or people to be emulated. Before anyone could digest what had happened it was the worst call ever, but then just as quickly the fastest 180-degree turn in public opinion took place and knocked it all off kilter.

Wha’ happened?

Easy. Joyce admitted he was human. He stood before everyone and did not make excuses when he said that he messed up. He apologized to Galarraga, accepted criticism stoically and offered to fix things any way that he could.

In other words, Joyce held himself accountable. Though there was no need to change the outcome of the game, machinations were in place for oversight. In the case with the imperfect game nothing was changed, though Major League Baseball says the matter was under review.

As Americans and sports fans, we demand that type of assurance that the game is on the level. After all, who wants to invest time and energy into being a fan only to see it all erased by the whims of one man? That’s why maverick referee Tim Donaghy’s admission that he fixed NBA games so offensive and made the jail sentence he served justifiable… people don’t just put money into sports, but they also give up their time. Nothing is more valuable than time.

And that’s why the finish of the World Cup match between the U.S. and Slovenia made me so angry.

I should point out that outcomes of games rarely upset me. Oh sure, when I was a kid I was disappointed if my team lost and I’ve been known to show emotion in regard to the McCaskey High basketball team. But for the most part the correct tact (I think) is to look at a game as a painting or a work of art that should be allowed to unfold organically. It’s more enjoyable to sit back, relax and let things play out.

So when a guy like referee Koman Coulibaly of Mali thrusts himself into a game and essentially determines the outcome, it’s too much to bear. For those of us who got out of bed especially early in order to watch the game, Coulibaly stole from us, too.

By now most sports fans have seen or heard about the go-ahead go that was scored by the U.S. and inexplicably waived off by because of some unexplained phantom foul. Making matters more twisted is the fact that the goal would have been exactly what the U.S. needed to advance to the knockout round of the World Cup for just the third time ever and first time since 2002. Because the game against Slovenia ended in a tie, the U.S. must win its final game against Algeria to guarantee a berth in the round of 16.

The U.S. team seemingly did its job by beating Slovenia, the referee, however, had a different agenda.

The part that’s most maddening about how the debacle unfolded is that there was no explanation or oversight. Sure, Coulibaly likely won’t referee another game as big as a World Cup match, but why was there no system in place to make sure mistakes like this one cannot occur? Or, why was there no official call made on the spot or comment from FIFA?

Hey, some of us got up early to watch the World Cup. Our day was ruined! 

Anyway, Sports Illustrated soccer writer Grant Wahl has seen this all before and offered this in his latest from South Africa:

As much as I love soccer, I do get extremely frustrated by how often the postgame discussion revolves around the referee's decisions. No sport, not even NBA basketball, approaches soccer when it comes to officiating controversy. And no sport does less to provide teams and fans with explanations for refereeing decisions. The fact is that we may never know why Coulibaly waved off the U.S. goal -- FIFA doesn't allow a pool reporter to interview the referee, as most sports do, and I got no response when I e-mailed FIFA's head press officer in search of an explanation.

In the postgame mixed zone, U.S. Soccer president Sunil Gulati said he hadn't seen replays yet, but he had received 43 text messages from people who had watched the replay and not seen a foul. “We don't know what the foul was,” said Gulati. “We'll ask, but they're not required to tell us.”

Like Wahl, I love soccer—especially the World Cup. But I can understand why a lot of Americans haven’t warmed up to the sport because of things that happened in Friday’s match. In the U.S. sports leagues the officials explain the call on the spot… it was holding or clipping. Safe or out, foul or play on. Sure, that doesn’t mean a call isn’t open to second-guessing, but at least we know what is happening and why.

Hey, it’s our time—we’re owed at least that much.

World Cup action scores big in Phillies' clubhouse

NEW YORK — It wasn’t so much the audacity of the shot from the end line that snaked between the North Korean goalie and the right post that stopped people in their tracks, it was the lavishness of the celebration by Brazil’s midfielder, Maicon. Part interpretive dance mixed with equal parts long-distance dedication, Maicon says the goal in Tuesday’s World Cup match was a dedication to his wife.

Which kind of makes the rest of us look like a bunch of slackers...

Nevertheless, it was the celebration that got the most attention in the Phillies’ clubhouse at Yankee Stadium nearly three hours before that night’s game against the defending World Champion Yankees. Oh sure, players like Ryan Howard—a standout soccer player when he was kid, he says—love the competition and the athleticism of the game and have a bit more than a passing interest in the World Cup (they are sports fans after all), but more than anything else it’s the theatrics.

Ryan Howard couldn’t get enough of the showmanship.

Oh make no mistake about it; Howard is a savvy fan of soccer. He knows which teams are usually strong in international play which is why Spain’s loss to Switzerland on Wednesday raised a few eyebrows around the team’s clubhouse. But the Phillies’ cleanup hitter also knows that every goal scored in the World Cup is a small miracle. They are like lightning strikes or immovable forces of nature calmly brushed aside. In a more hyperbolic and extreme sense, a goal like Maicon’s proves there are forces larger than us in the universe.

Or something like that…

“A 1-0 game is like 10-0,” Howard said, comparing soccer scores to baseball. “A 2-0 game is a blowout and the 4-0 game like Germany had the other day, that’s ridiculous.”

Surely some saw Maicon’s post-goal celebration as ridiculous. Better yet, it was arguably more compelling than the shot that tucked into the net just inside the left post. In fact, after such a magical goal everyone in the room knew the celebration would be equally as spectacular. When we all realized that the shot had indeed found the net, someone said, “OK, here we go,” in anticipation of what was to come next.

Maicon didn’t disappoint.

Overflowing with emotion, Maicon ran toward the sidelines with his eyes and index finger pointed toward the heavens before he dropped to his knees and put his fingers to his mouth that from the first glance looked as if he were imitating Dr. Evil from the Austin Powers movies or was sucking his thumb. Only later did we learn that he was giving tribute to his wife in a manner that would make former NBA player Doug Christie jealous.

“And to score in the first game? I cried, but I was happy. I kissed my wedding ring for everything that my wife has done for me,” Maicon explained to reporters after the match. “It is a thank you for everyone who has been by my side.”

Later, Maicon got into wardrobe and performed the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet.

Kidding aside, Maicon’s celebration led to an interesting topic of discussion, one I’m sure others have pondered as well…

How come baseball players don’t celebrate the way they do in other sports? Certainly a home run is a physics experiment that could have saved Sir Isaac Newton some time waiting for that piece of fruit to clunk him on the head. Moreover, a perfect swing of the bat that meets the ball oh so perfectly is just as artful as anything that occurs in the so-called, “Beautiful Game.” Clearly this was a question for Howard, one of history’s most prolific home run hitters.

“The next time you hit a home run you should celebrate like that,” I said to Howard while pointing to Maicon on the TV hanging above the clubhouse.

“What, you mean drop to my knees and suck my thumb?”Howard answered with a big smile and a laugh.

“Well, maybe not like that, but it looks like [Maicon] could get around the bases pretty quickly. Maybe you could just do that slide on the knees or do a little touchdown dance?”

Obviously this was all so ridiculous. Howard hits so many homers that he be worn out simply by getting around the bases. Still, it is worth mentioning that Howard’s current home run trot has its own panache with its relaxed movement around the bases that finishes with a little skip at home plate where he registers the run with his right foot as though he were dipping his big toe into a swimming pool to test the temperature of the water. Howard is cool with his own unique style. Howard’s big, smooth and strong vibe works in baseball so much better than anything that could have been choreographed by Bob Fosse or even Charo.

Either way, it never gets old. We could watch Howard or Maicon do their thing all summer long. At least that’s the sense one would get in a stroll through Manhattan where restaurants and pubs entice potential patrons by advertising the day’s World Cup games with big signs out front, while stores dress up mannequins in the latest team kits. Better yet, there were more folks seen around town in soccer gear than there were people dressed in Mets garb.

Was that dude really wearing a Lionel Messi shirt on the No. 4 train?

Adapt, evolve, survive

Well now everything dies baby that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
—Bruce Springsteen

NEW YORK — Now we don’t know what is happening with the Phillies. The issues regarding the collective offensive slump could be one of those fluke things or maybe even something larger at work. We’ll be able to figure out those things at the end of the season when we ask what went wrong or right for this ballclub.

But make no mistake about it… something is wrong with the Phillies these days and walking in to Yankee Stadium for three games beginning tonight is probably not the best remedy. After all, not only do the Yankees have the best record in baseball, but also they are 22-7 at home this season.

So as the Phillies hope for a resurrection and look for a big-time measuring stick, we can only project and ask questions. No, it’s not the best situation, but until something breaks it’s all we have.

The question:

Is this it? Is this 32-29 version of the Phillies — the team that is 6-14 in the last 20 games — what we’re going to have to deal with for the rest of the season? And if so, how did we get here?

No, things don’t look too promising, and though manager Charlie Manuel remains upbeat and continues to trot of the mantra that his guys will hit (and pitch?), secretly he is worried. Why wouldn’t he be? Manuel knows as well as anyone that sometimes the twists and turns of the game have a way of settling in. At some point the trends stop being aberrations or spikes in a chart and become the norm. Just listen to Manuel speak if you need proof. He’ll cite line and verse about a time when the Phillies dropped into an offensive swoon, stayed there and never really wiggled out of it.

It began, Manuel recalls often, with a 20-run explosion in St. Louis in 2008, followed by the thought that the Phillies were on the way to scoring 1,000 runs for the season only to replaced with the reality that the team wasn’t going to score many runs without slugging a home run.

Worse, the great hitting coach’s team went on to win the World Series that year not by slugging past teams, but with pitching and defense.

Of all the indignities!

In the meantime the numbers are pretty harrowing. Worse, the owners of some of the ugliest digits are the players the Phillies can least afford to post them. After tying Reggie Jackson's World Series record with five homers in last October's Fall Classic, Chase Utley has dropped off considerably. Though he clubbed 10 homers in the first two months of the season, the All-Star second baseman has not hit one since May 20, a span of 21 games. Uglier yet, Utley has batted just .153 in that span. That's far worse than the .230 with two homers Ryan Howard has provided over the last 20 games or the .164 average and lone homer from free-agent to be, Jayson Werth in that same period.

As the manager might say, “Not good…”

The most alarming of the team-wide slumps is with Utley, who looks as if he is a marathoner who hit the wall. It’s not that Utley isn’t posting the numbers because sometimes that can be subjective and/or not an accurate measure. No, the part that Utley barely has warning track power anymore is what is strange. Last year Utley was whipped at the end of the season because had off-season hip surgery, rushed to get back to the lineup and then played in 156 regular-season games and 15 more in the playoffs. It was understandable for a guy to wear down under those circumstances.

However, how could Utley look so tired just 59 games into this season considering Manuel promised to give his second baseman more days off during the season? Instead, because of the Phillies’ struggles it’s become a vicious cycle. Manuel can’t rest Utley because the team needs to win games, but by continually trotting him out there he has begun to take the shape of a pencil worn down to the nub.

There are other variables at work, too. For instance, pitchers appear to have regrouped after being bludgeoned during the so-called “Steroid Era.” In making up for lost time and fighting back against ballparks built to cater to baseball’s lost age, the big-league pitchers have mounted an insurrection with three no-hitters and two perfect games already this season. Those tallies would be four and three if Jim Joyce hadn’t missed a call at first base in Detroit two weeks ago.

Like any living species, pitchers adapt and evolve. So after more than a decade of being treated like chum for hitters, the tables have turned. For a team filled with talented yet strikeout-prone and flawed hitters like the Phillies, opponents finally appear to be exploiting certain weaknesses.

All of those theories and questions only create more theories and questions. Still, the only question that matters in the short term is to wonder how quickly can the Phillies adjust, adapt and evolve.  Because if the answer is not, “very quickly,” what we see might just be what we’re going to get.

God save the Green

Here’s how good (good used facetiously) the U.S. has been at soccer in the WorldCup:

For the team to advance to the knockout round for the first time in 64 years — in only its second appearance after 40 years of not qualifying for the tourney — Team USA needed a fluke goal. Actually, make that (perhaps) the most notorious fluke goal in the history of sports.

At the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, Calif. In June of 1994, Colombia’s star defender Andres Escobar intercepted a crossing pass into the penalty box only to deflect it past his own goalie to give the U.S. a 2-1 lead it would never relinquish. Because of that goal, the heavily-favored Colombians were bounced from the tournament that many believed they could win.

Ten days later back home in Medellin, Escobar was murdered when he was shot 12 times allegedly by a gunman hired by disappointed drug lords. Police reports say that after each of the 12 shots hit Escobar, the murderer yelled, “Goal!”

It’s bad enough getting bounced from the World Cup, but to do so with a loss to the United States is like pouring salt into the wound.

Yes, they take football seriously all over the globe and as the marquee sporting event in the world, play in the World cup is scrutinized and deconstructed more fervently than anything. Football is a religion in a lot of countries and followed to a degree that even fans of American football cannot understand.

Now goals in World Cup action are like lightning strikes. Sure, a couple of goals in a game can occur, but they are rare enough that they are celebrated as if they are small miracles. In other words, to give away a goal to the opposition is so devastating to a team’s chances in a match that it can sway the outcome of the tournament. Goals can change lives… or end them.

So when Clint Dempsey’s shot from 18 yards away in the opening match for USA and England in the 2010 World Cup, bounced off the hands of goalie Rob Green and trickled into the net, it didn’t take long to see what was coming. No, Green will live. They take football as seriously as anything in England, but not to the extreme to murder a guy. But unless England regroups and advances far into the tourney, Green’s life will never be the same.

Indeed, goals change lives. They mean that much.

Just a quick peruse through the English newspapers was enough to see what Green is in for. Sure, the Philly and New York sports media is supposed to be tough, often creating heroes and villains with just a few sentences. However, in Philly we have nothing on the London writers who have carved into the English team without mercy. Green, of course, has been the main target with ledes like this one from the Sunday Times, a conservative paper in London owned by the same company as the Wall Street Journal:

To the Boston Tea Party and Belo Horizonte, the Royal Bafokeng Stadium can almost be added. Here was parity that felt a lot like purgatory for Englishmen. England have not begun a World Cup better for 28 years, scoring incisively through their captain, Steven Gerrard, just four minutes in, and yet they have seldom ended a tournament’s opening game feeling worse.

Robert Green, Fabio Capello’s contentious choice of starting goalkeeper, imploded and the myth that England are somehow among the favourites for these finals was exploded. A scrappy, uncomfortable draw against the second-ranked side in Group C may not stop Capello’s men topping it, but it is hard to see them proceeding far in the knockout rounds unless they make giant and sudden improvements.

That story was one of the less incendiary published in the aftermath of the USA-England match. The overwhelming majority of the prose from England’s writers from South Africa cut deeper and sharper, not wasting time in going for the jugular. The tabloid, The Sun, plastered pictures of Green’s “fluff” all over its Sunday editions and buried stories about British Petroleum’s “fluff” into the back pages.

From The Sun:

SKIPPER Steven Gerrard refused to condemn Robert Green after the keeper's gaffe cost England three points in Rustenburg.

Indeed, the writer seemed indignant about the team’s captain refusing to pile on a teammate and later in the story labeled Dempsey’s shot on goal, “tame,” with this bit about another error by the British:

“One disastrous spill the Yanks won’t complain about.”

Yes, because the Yanks are a bunch whiners for complaining about the wanton destruction of the planet.

And from The Guardian:

Just as South Africa opened their World Cup with a goal that will be remembered forever, so England, as is their wont, contrived to open theirs with a goalkeeping blunder that will never be forgotten. No sooner had Fabio Capello placed his confidence in Robert Green than his judgment was mocked by the sort of bungle no professional footballer can comfortably watch, an unforced error that allowed the United States back into a game on which England appeared to have a comfortable grip after Steven Gerrard's early goal.

Nowhere was the fact that England did not lose the game mentioned high up in the reports from London. That all seemed beside the point as the knee-jerk reactions rolled in from a misplay that has not affected England’s chances to win the World Cup for the first time since 1966. In fact, England and the United States are still favored to advance to the knock-out rounds if they score a victory against either Algeria or Slovenia, two teams not rated as high as either club.

But football was invented in England. More than Brazil, Italy, Colombia, Ghana, Spain, Germany or South Africa, football is an English game to a degree even greater than football, baseball and basketball are our games. The first modern rules were put together at Cambridge University in 1848 though the game had been played in England since the medieval times as they were first focused on conquering the world and as a gift they gave it football.

With this gift, though, comes a steep price and Green is paying it for all of England.

 “Bring it on,” Green said bravely after discussing his misplay with the English press in South Africa. “I can take it.”

Indeed Green will continue to take it until England regains a spot on top of the world. Based on the dispatches from London, that won’t be any time soon.

Philadelphia's First Dynasty: 100 Years after the A's ruled

First story in a series

Believe it or not, two of the greatest baseball teams in the history of the game played in Philadelphia. What makes that unbelievable is there has been more lost games from Philadelphia baseball teams than any other. In fact, heading into action on Thursday night, Philadelphia teams in Major League Baseball have lost 14,441 regular-season games and 63 more in the playoffs.

Only a team from Philadelphia could win 99 games and go to the World Series one year and lose 109 games the next season and 117 the year after that. More notably, of the top 10 worst single-season winning percentages in league history, Philadelphia holds 40 percent of the spots. That total increases to 45 percent of the top 20 worst seasons.

Oh, but when things go well in Philly we don’t know what to do with ourselves. Surely the reasons for this are better left for sociologists and trained professionals, so we’ll just leave that type analysis alone. However, when it comes to baseball in Philadelphia there are two eras that are on the top of the list and everything else kind of just filters in behind.

From 1929 to 1931, Connie Mack’s Philadelphia Athletics tore through the American League to win three straight pennants with an average of 104 wins per season back when they only played 154 a year. Baseball historians regard the 1929 A’s club as a bit below the ’27 Yankees when ranking the greatest teams of all-time, though the three-year run by the A’s is amongst the greatest ever and had the distinction of ending the Babe Ruth-Lou Gehrig dynasty.

But before Babe Ruth, the Yankees or the A’s that knocked them off in three straight seasons, the 1910 Athletics set the standard for which all Philadelphia baseball teams are based. That was the season Connie Mack guided Philadelphia to four trips to the World Series in five years, capturing three championships. In ’10, the A’s rolled over the Cubs in five games, six games over the Giants in ’11, a five-game victory over the Giants in ’13 before it came to an end in four games to the Braves in 1914.

The first dynasty of baseball history came to a crash landing in 1915 when Mack sold off his great players or the jumped to the upstart Federal League and spent the next seven seasons in last place.

Could you imagine what we would have written and said about Mack in this day and age if he sold Home Run Baker, Eddie Collins and Chief Bender to make a little cash though it meant a decade in the second division? That would be like David Montgomery being told by the Phillies’ partners to dump Ryan Howard, Chase Utley and Roy Halladay in order to line the team’s coffers.

Strangely, Mack chose to sell out when his core group of stars were just coming into their primes and it’s not far-fetched to think that the Philadelphia Athletics and the Philadelphia Phillies could have played in the 1915 World Series. The first two games would have been played at the Baker Bowl on Broad and Huntingdon in North Philly, packed up the gear after the games, and walked down Lehigh for five blocks to Shibe Park.

Forget a subway series; Philadelphia could have hosted the Lehigh Avenue series.

Anyway, over the next few months we will write about the 100 years since Philadelphia started baseball’s first dynasty. Look for some stylings about the 1910 Philadelphia Athletics here over the next few months. We’ll revisit the “Deadball Era” where Frank “Home Run” Baker hit just two homers in 1910, but he led the league the next four straight years with totals of 11, 10, 12 and 9.

So here’s a little slice of the Deadball Era for the Digital Age. We’ll start with a little story about my favorite player from those teams:

Charles “Chief” Bender

The Chief, part Chippewa, led Connie Mack’s Philadelphia Athletics to five pennants in the early part of the 20th Century and was a predecessor of Jim Thorpe’s at the Carlisle Indian School in Pennsylvania. Bender was easy-going, but he was not one who didn’t like to get in his subtle digs at those who treated him poorly because of the relevant racism. His teammates were always impressed that Bender withstood the racism of the era with aplomb and patience.

That didn’t mean they didn’t tease him. However, when Bender’s teammates made racist cracks to him, the pitcher called referred to them as “foreigners.” When admiring children crowded around him in the street and sought to ingratiate themselves with war whoops and rain dances, he never lost his patience. He was not unaware of the racism around him, but the easygoing Bender weathered the worst while doing his job, kind of like how Jackie Robinson bore the brunt during his first years in the majors nearly four decades later.

“You ignorant ill-bred foreigners,” Bender used to shout at his tormentors. “If you don't like the way I'm doing things out there, why don't you just pack up and go back to your own countries.”

At that time, as it is even now, teammates, fans, and the media called most players of Native American background “Chief.” In 1910, that was an epithet roughly equivalent to calling an African-American male “boy.” Not to mention, it doesn’t take a whole lot of creativity to call an Indian, “Chief.” But known as Chief to nearly everyone in baseball, Bender didn't complain. However, he always signed autographs “Charles Bender.” Notably, Connie Mack always called him by his middle name, Albert. He also said that if he ever needed one pitcher to win him a game, he would call on “Albert Bender.”

“If I had all the men I've ever handled and they were in their prime and there was one game I wanted to win above all others,” Mack was quoted as saying, “Albert would be my man.”

That was for good reason, too. Bender pitched a four-hit shutout in his first World Series game on Oct. 10, 1905 for a win in Game 2 against John McGraw’s Giants, before dropping the clincher with a five-hitter to the great Christy Mathewson in a 2-0 defeat.

In all, Bender started 10 World Series games and completed nine of them. In the 1911 World Series he started three games, completed them all, and allowed just three runs. In his first seven World Series starts covering 61 2/3 innings, Bender posted a 1.31 ERA and 47 strikeouts to 18 walks.

His best pitch was one he was credited with inventing called the “nickel curve,” which today is known as the slider. According to Baseball Reference, Bender compares to modern pitchers like Bert Blyleven and Greg Maddux.

In 1910, Bender put together his best regular season when he went 23-5 with a 1.58 ERA in 30 games. Perhaps best explaining his dominance in 1910, Bender had a 0.916 WHIP, allowing just 182 hits in 250 innings with a no-hitter against Cleveland on May 12.

During the World Series that season, Bender won the opener with a three-hitter over the Cubs at Shibe Park, but lost in a chance to sweep the series in Game 4 when the Cubs scored with two outs in the 10th inning off him.

Bender played with the A’s until 1914 when he jumped to the Federal League after the World Series. Following a season with Baltimore, Bender returned to pitch in Philadelphia with the Phillies for two seasons. After his playing days, he managed, coached and sometimes pitched with a bunch of minor league teams. Ultimately, he settled back in Philadelphia and lived in the Olney section of town on 12th Street behind the current location of the Albert Einstein Medical Center. Back in Philly, Bender operated a couple of businesses, including a jewelry shop in Conshohocken and a sporting goods store on 13th and A rch Streets in Center City. He also worked at Gimbels in Center City and coached with the A’s beginning in 1945until his death in 1954.

In September of 1953, the veterans committee elected Bender to the Hall of Fame, but eight months later — and three months before his induction at Cooperstown — Bender died of cancer at Graduate Hospital. He was buried at the Hillside Cemetary in Roslyn, Pa.

His legacy, aside from being the ace on the staff of the first dynasty in baseball and inventing the slider, Bender was known for his kindness off the mound and his smarts on it. Ty Cobb claimed Bender was the “braniest” pitcher he faced as well as the era’s “money” pitcher.

Going long on Strasburg

WASHINGTON — There were so many unique moments during the major league pitching debut of pitching phenom Stephen Strasburg that it’s hard to settle on one that was the best. Sure, that 100-mph fastball and breathtaking curve were otherworldly and maybe even the filthiest pitches in the league right now, but we knew about those things coming into Tuesday night’s game.

OK, maybe we didn’t know how good those pitches were beforehand. Last month when Strasburg was pitching for Double-A Harrisburg at Reading, his repertoire of pitches was not as good as the stuff he had on Tuesday night. In other words, the kid is getting better.

Still, the moments that stood out the most to me all involved Pirates outfielder Delwyn Young.

Young, 28, spent his first full season in the majors last season where he slugged seven homers with 43 RBIs in 124 games. This season Young has been used as a second baseman and a right fielder where he has appeared in 43 of the Pirates’ 58 games, posting modest to poor stats. The most subpar amongst those numbers is the four walks and the .275 on-base percentage mostly coming from a guy who gets most of his plate appearances batting out of the No. 7 spot in the order.

At least when he doesn’t come off the bench.

Nevertheless, Young’s legacy as a ballplayer just might come down to his two-run homer in the fourth inning off Strasburg at Nationals Park on Tuesday night. It was that shot into the first row of the right-field seats that were marked down not just for the first home run off the kid, but also as the first two runs.

Now the interesting part wasn’t the home run itself as much as it was the machinations behind it. For instance, Young belted just the 13th homer of his career and his third of the season simply by dropping the bat head on a pitch that was thigh high. In the instances where such a swing sends the ball into the seats, the pitcher typically has thrown a fastball in a spot where the equipment, not the ferocity of the swing, does the damage.

Obviously, Strasburg could become prone to allowing homers since his 100-mph fastball supplies all the power.

But the thing about the homer Young hit off him was that it came on Strasburg’s changeup. Make that a 91-mph changeup, but a changeup nonetheless.

Often, a pitcher’s changeup is only as good as his fastball. With guys like Cole Hamels, Johan Santana and Pedro Martinez, three pitchers with the best changeups ever, the most important part is that all of those guys could bring the heat into the mid-90s. When they throw the change there is a significant difference for the hitter looking at a pitch going 95 to 85. In fact, often that difference is crippling to hitters. Pedro is known as one of the greatest pitchers in history because of that drop-off in velocity between pitches.

But when a guy throws one 100-mph and comes back with a 91-mph changeup, the difference is somewhat negligible. Only a good guess will help a hitter against a fastball as rapid as Strasburg’s, while his changeup is more like a pedestrian fastball. If he misses with a changeup like he did with Young in the fourth inning, he’s going to get hurt.

So if there is a flaw in his pitches it’s that Strasburg’s changeup is way too fast.

The other interesting part of Strasburg’s debut was that the media presence dwarfed that at the Wachovia Center for the Stanley Cup Final. Both ESPN and the MLB Network did pre- and post-game shows from the field, including a segment on ESPN that featured Young on the set still in uniform after the game. Strasburg was so good that the one guy to interview from the Pirates was the guy who walked into a bad pitch and hit it out. Had it been Strasburg’s fastball instead of his changeup, it’s doubtful Young would have been asked to sit with the ESPN crew.

The final intriguing part about Tuesday’s game was what happened after Young hit the homer. From that spot in the game, Strasburg faced 10 hitters and retired them all. He got eight of those outs on strikeouts including whiffs against the final seven hitters of the game.

Yes, it was Young that forced Strasburg to stop goofing around with pitches like 91-mph changeups when it was clear no one could hit the 100-mph heater and wiffle ball-like hammer.

There’s your moment Delwyn Young. Enjoy Pittsburgh.

The Big Train returns to Washington

WASHINGTON — Like most people, I love a good party. In fact, the only thing better than a good party is a great story. After all, a story is a gift that keeps on giving each time it’s retold and in the end aren’t stories all we have?

You know… something saccharine sweet like that.

Anyway, in the sports media business they combine the two with things called “events.” The All-Star Game is an event and so are the league championships, though with the late start times for the games they are much more festive for others. Truth is, the craziest time I ever had at a World Series was when I ordered up a 4 a.m. wake-up call for Kevin Roberts. He repaid me with a gift of a muscle contusion following a punch to the brachial plexus.

The jerk.

Nevertheless, the traveling circus known as The Stephen Strasburg Experience finally settled in The District after a two-month tour of exotic locales to places like Altoona, Reading, Norwich, New Britain and Harrisburg. Unfortunately, Strasburg made it away from City Island in Harrisburg where the flying insects are known to take up residence during the summer months. Some of those big bugs have been known to have pets, like puppies or ponies.

If a pitcher can spend a summer at City Island and survive, places like Nationals Park or any other big league outpost is a breeze.

Yet without that experience we’re all buckled in to see the second coming of Walter Johnson, which in Washington is pretty significant. See, baseball in Washington has been flirting with becoming a three-time loser since the National League club from Montreal pulled up stakes and set up on the banks of the muddy Anacostia. Past versions of the Washington Major League Baseball Club found better futures in St. Paul, Minnesota and Arlington, Texas while some have argued that things weren’t all that worse when the team was called the Expos.

Indeed, we might have to go back to when Johnson pitched Washington to the World Series in back-to-back seasons in 1924 and 1925 to find a player who has meant as much to the survival of baseball in The District as young Strasburg. Johnson’s career ended after the 1927 season and the franchise hung around for 33 more seasons after that.

Actually, Johnson was as good as it got for baseball in D.C. He was born in Kansas, went to high school in California, but was so beloved (schools and parks were named in his honor) in Washington that he remained there until his death in 1946. After The Big Train retired in ’27, the three different Washington franchises finished in first place in 1933, second place in 1930 and 1943, and never came closer than that since. Get this: Johnson won 417 games in his 21 seasons in the majors and still the Senators only made it to the World Series twice. In 1913 when Johnson won 36 games, the Senators came in second place with just 90 wins. That comes to 40 percent of the team's wins.

That’s so amazing it makes one’s head spin.

And that might only begin to explain why the sports world is focused on a Tuesday night matchup between the Nationals and Pirates. It’s not merely the debut of a pitcher paid $15 million for just signing his name to a piece of paper or the promise of a kid with a right arm so explosive it can hurl a baseball more than 100-mph with a curve ball that leaves grown men in a cowering mess while begging not to be forced to hold a bat ever again. This Strasburg kid—still just 21—is moving history. It’s as if he’s powered the flux capacitor and completely erased the entire time/space continuum. 

Or, if Washington and baseball are not transformed by a kid born in San Diego the same day as when Michael Dukakis was accepting the Democratic Party’s nomination for President, we’ll all take the easy road and label it the biggest failure in baseball. A career-threatening arm injury could cause a section of Southeast D.C. to go back to its pre-Nationals Park form while the franchise moves on to Portland, Charlotte, Las Vegas or maybe even Monterrey, Mexico. We’ll start using names like Brien Taylor, David Clyde and Todd Van Poppel. We’ll tell more cautionary tales only to go back to believing the hype with the next kid with an arm that supersedes his years.

That is truly what the media calls a party.

So we’re buckled up in Washington ready for an eyeful of the next savior… at least until The Next One is identified and sold for at least $15 million.

Um... your town is cool, too?

Note: Variations of this essay have been posted on this space in the past, but since the hacky, trite, tired “city rip” pieces are en vogue, we reworked it and we present it again like new. Sorry, folks, if it makes you feel good about putting down another civic body, you have other issues… you know, besides being a hack.

THE TOWN FORMERLY KNOWN AS ANGRYVILLE — They handle defeat well in Chicago. After all, the Blackhawks, White Sox and especially the Cubs have taught them well. Just think how good at losing they’d be if Portland would have done the right thing and drafted Michael Jordan.

But in Chicago they don't mope, freak out, or litter the field with D-sized batteries during the action. They really don't even complain, to be perfectly frank. Actually, they're used to it.

They just go home. They leave early and fight traffic. They put the crippling defeats out of their minds by skipping work to play in the sun. They just forget about it as they frolic in those glorious public parks beneath sculptures created by Picasso and Oprah with cool drinks and lots of pretty friends.

Loss? Nah, they don't deal with it at all in Chicago. Who has the time? They actually have a beach in the city in Chicago. Life is good and they pick up the trash off the streets, too. Nice place Chicago… it helps them swallow defeat so well.

In Philadelphia we know loss all too well. It's in our DNA. It's intense... no wait, that's wrong. It's intensity.

At least it was.

Back in the old days we all woke up before the dawn just as the rage had regrouped so we could wipe the bitter-tasting bile that has encrusted the corners of our mouths with the outer black sleeve of our spittle-coated Motorhead t-shirts. Then we dragged our sorry asses off the couch where we collapsed just 45 minutes earlier and instinctively thrust a middle finger at the rest of the world.

The day had begun in Philadelphia. The fury must be unleashed. We lost again.

But there is always a fleeting moment — one that usually occurs in the time it takes to get from one knee to a standing position after unfolding oneself from the couch — when stock is taken. A moment, as fast as a flap of a hummingbird's wing, enters our twisted and angry heads:

World weary. Saddened by my years on the road. Seen a lot. Done a lot. Loss? Yeah, I know loss. I know loss with its friends sorrow, fury and death. Yes, loss and me are like this... we're partners as we walk on the dusty trail of life.

But something happened in October of 2008 when Brad Lidge threw that slider past Eric Hinske. Beneath that tiney, porcupine-like exterior, glimpses into our souls were exposed. There was warmth, fear, insecurity...

Victory?

Yes, victory. The Phillies won the World Series. The Flyers are going to the Stanley Cup (yeah, I said it). Both of these things are happening barely months apart. Kind of like it was 1980-81 all over again.

Is Bruce Springsteen still as popular as he was during the dawn of the Reagan Administration? Oh yeah, here in the dawn of the Obama Administration, an adapted Chicagoan no less, Springsteen is playing halftime at the Super Bowl.

In the old days during the B.C. Era[1], Chicago was a place that made it easy to look down upon with our sad, wretched lives of angry and failed dreams. In Chicago, with their manicured parks, gourmet restaurants, unimpeded gentrification, high-brow universities and gleaming skyscrapers the rest of us calls it the city of big shoulders. It burned down and rose again—bigger, better, cleaner, friendlier.

It gets cold and windy, true, but they take that in stride, too.

Those were the places Philly fans showed up en masse to watch our teams fight for our civic pride. Back in the old, B.C. Era, they saw us coming. We stuck out with that crippled walk of defeat, clenched jaws of stress and disgust, fists balled up and middle fingers erect. When we took the exit ramp off the boulevard of broken dreams to enter these happy, little towns, the local authorities were ready. They had been tipped off ahead of time and were prepared to set up a dragnet at a moment's notice.

But those condescending attitudes and the arrogance in which those people flit through life so carefree and cheery no longer sting. We don't turn them back with our jealousy and resentment. No, instead we take the hackery in stride. The mockery and stereotypes don't hurt any longer.

It's just one of those annoying things that championship cities are used to.

Hey, who knows... maybe there is a bit of respect coming our way? Oh sure, they still trot out the golden oldies:

Boo Santa. Cheer injuries. Snowballs at the Cowboys. Batteries for J.D. Drew. Cheesesteaks. Cracked bells. Anger and passion. Rocky Balboa.

But try this out... sportswriters are afraid of Philadelphians. At least that's (kind of) the contention of one mainstreamer writing for one of those new-fangled web sites.

Really? Uh... nice! So maybe this means that now that the proverbial shoe is on the proverbial other foot, the whole hacky city rip thing is finished? Instead maybe they'll write about the actual ballclubs instead of all the clichés?

Think so?

Of course not.

During the Phillies' run Charlie Manuel was often prophetic, but never more than when he said:

“Winning is hard. Nothing about winning comes easy,” the wizened sage of a baseball manager said. “... believe me, there's a price you pay for winning, too.”

That price can sometimes mean dignity, self-respect and the ability to think clearly.

We're inside the looking glass, people. The Phillies won, the Flyers need two more games...

All things considered, it ain't all that bad to be in Philadelphia. Let them say what they want because we win now. Someday we might even get used to it.

---

[1] B.C. is "Before Championship(s)"

Bidding The Kid Adieu

By now everyone has had a chance to see the replay and theaftermath of Wednesday’s blown call by umpire Jim Joyce in the not-so perfect, perfect game from Tigers’ right-hander Armando Galarraga. Everyone has formulated some sort of opinion about what should (or should not) be done to rectify the issue of a problem easily fixed.

But you know what, the fact that Joyce might have made one of the top 2 worst calls in the history of the game is part of the reason why we love baseball. It’s imperfect and it gives us something to debate without being wrong. Sure, it’s probably no fun to be Jim Joyce or a major league umpire these days, but everyone is going to come out of this OK. Already people view Joyce’s mea culpa as dignified and have come to learn about Galarraga and the classy way he dealt with adversity.

Of course there was no real adversity for Galarraga. He’s seen as a hero who pitched a perfect game plus one extra out. It wasn’t quite the Pirates’ Harvey Haddix going 12 perfect innings against the Milwaukee Braves in 1959, or Pedro taking a perfect game into the 10^th inning in 1995, but it was pretty good nonetheless.

In fact, just the thought of a perfect game was compelling enough for me to ignore Game 3 of the Stanley Cup Final happening right in front of me in the Wachovia Center press box and dial up the game from Detroit on the laptop. Interestingly, it is the flaw of the perfection we’re going to remember forever. We might not have known a lot about Joyce or Galarraga, but we sure do now.

What was most disappointing about the imperfect perfecto was the fact that it went down not long after the news of the retirement of Ken Griffey Jr. At age 40 and nursing a .184 batting average in 33 games, The Kid decided he didn’t want to hold back the Mariners any longer. Moreover, he wanted to go home to be with his kids.

After all, it was his kids that motivated Griffey as he came down toward the end of his career after the injuries had thwarted his chance at 800 career homers.

Just typing that—800 home runs—seems unbelievable. But considering Griffey lost parts of six years of his career to injuries, it’s not unreasonable to think that he could have rewritten the record books.

As it stands, Griffey’s numbers aren’t too shabby. He hit 630 homers, with 1,836 RBIs, an MVP Award and 13 All-Star Games, including the 1992 game where he was the MVP. Statistically, Griffey’s numbers sit next to Frank Robinson, Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays and he could be the first unanimous Hall-of-Fame inductee five years from now.

Griffey’s allure goes far beyond statistics, though. The truth is that during the 1990s there was no more compelling or interesting athlete in America than Ken Griffey Jr. For those of us that only ever saw Willie Mays on grainy, black-and-white highlight reels and grew up watching thick-legged and paunchy players like Lou Piniella or Greg Luzinski play the outfield, Griffey spoke to us. Not only could he blast one off the warehouse during the Home Run Derby at Camden Yards, but also could run down a fly ball anywhere on the diamond or jump over the outfield wall to pull back a homer.

His smile was like a neon sign and he was riotously funny on an episode of The Simpsons. He wore his hat backwards and went on those silly MTV Rock-n-Jock things. Better yet, he wasn’t that much older than us. He was from our generation and until he broke into the majors when he was 19, we had no representation in big-league sports.

Griffey was kind of one of us.

He was a ballplayer, too. Actually, he was the son of a ballplayer and grew up playing with Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Johnny Bench and the rest of his dad’s teammates on The Big Red Machine. His was a charmed life that seemed like a dream until it became too much.

Writer types who had been around said the attention and hero worship made Griffey surly. When he showed up in a visiting ballpark with the Mariners or Reds, there were always hundreds of press types waiting and waiting for him to walk into the clubhouse so they could fire questions at him. It could have been a Tuesday night in Cleveland during August, but everything stopped when Griffey showed up.

Then the injuries came. He had his hamstring put back together with titanium screws in an experimental surgery now called, “The Junior Operation.” The hamstring problems were followed by foot and knee issues that required surgery, and a groin injury cost him much of the 2007 season.

Interestingly, Griffey seemed happy during the last few years of his career. After he slugged his 500^th career homer and the constraints on his time dissipated dramatically, Griffey turned into a guy who held court with some of the out-of-town writers in the Reds clubhouse. One day I even asked him about the old days with thousands screaming his name to these twilight years where only a few of us wanted to talk about baseball with him.

And you know what? We couldn’t get him to stop. He was like a sieve, waxing on about how his kids loved football more than baseball and how he had no interest in soccer. He joked with teammates, telling Adam Dunn that he looked like the lead character in the ‘80s TV show, “The Greatest American Hero.” He told Todd Zolecki that if he frosted the tips of his hair he might look exactly like Cole Hamels. Actually, he just talked about whatever like he was one of the guys. Still, no matter what, you couldn't get him to stop talking about his kids. It always came back to the kids.

Age mellowed Griffey. He loved being a ballplayer, but loved being a father even more. Being a father to Trey, Taryn and Tevinis what it’s all about to the man they called The Kid.

So as he heads off into the sunset in a season where the pitchers are in control, it’s nice to remember Griffey on the field as the joyous face of the game. At home with the family it sounds like it’s the same deal.

Philly boy Roy(s)?

Typically, this is the spot where we go into the full courtpress into why the Phillies should go after Roy Oswalt from the Astros. Unload the minor leagues, might be the mantra. Another point would be something about how the window of opportunity only opens so often and closes very quickly.

In fact, that’s what we trotted out there when the suggestion was made to go get Pedro Martinez, Roy Oswalt, Cliff Lee, Jim Thome and, (gulp!) Barry Bonds.

Pat Burrell? Nope. No thanks.

Nevertheless, just think how perfect it would be for the Phillies to go after Oswalt. For one, reports from Ed Price over at AOL Fanhouse indicate that the hard-throwing righty would waive his no-trade clause to go to the Yankees, Cardinals or Phillies. Think about that for a second… a Cy Young Award contender and the MVP of the 2005 NLCS, wants to be sent to Philadelphia. Remember not too long ago when players couldn’t get out of here fast enough?

Wasn’t Ed Wade the general manager then?

Well, coincidentally (or not), Wade is the GM for the Astros with a decent history of making deals with his old club. Plus, Wade’s penchant for filling his roster with ex-Phillies appears to be something of a fetish. Hey, the guy has a thing for the Phillies… there’s nothing wrong with that, right?

In this case, however, it might not mean much. While Wade really, really likes players that once wore red and white pinstripes, current general manager has a thing for prospects and the future. Amaro is a look-forward type. That’s not as weird as stockpiling his club with players with a certain history, but weird is as weird does. Considering the fact that Amaro traded away a guy who won the American League Cy Young Award in 2008 and put together the greatest postseason by a Phillies pitcher since Grover Cleveland Alexander kind of indicates all one needs to know about this quirky little belief that the kids are the future.

Some of us like to say that the future is now. Nothing is guaranteed in life or baseball and that goes specifically for projecting a tall French-Canadian right-hander named Phillippe Aumont as a cog in the Phillies’ rotation. Baseball has a way of dividing the champs from the chaff pretty quickly and the sometimes it’s just smarter to build a roster around the known.

But the Phillies love those prospects. In fact, they’ve done a pretty good job in building a little stable of All-Stars out of their draft picks. Ryan Howard, Chase Utley, Jimmy Rollins, Carlos Ruiz, Cole Hamels, Ryan Madson, Kyle Kendrick and J.A. Happ are the guys on the current 25-man roster who came through the Phillies system. Not many teams can develop a list of major leaguers like that.

So maybe that means in order to pry Oswalt away from the Astros it would take a major leaguer as opposed to a prospect? Why not, the guy calling the shots with the Astros likes those old Phillies and it’s not like Oswalt is going anywhere for a couple of years. See, if the Phillies were to get Oswalt they would have him for a $16 million salary in 2011 and could exercise a $16 million option for 2012. Not bad.

Not bad because it means the Phillies could have a pair of Roys at the top of the rotation for a good part of the future. And if it takes pitchers like Happ and/or Joe Blanton with a regular like Raul Ibanez, or perhaps (gulp!) Jayson Werth, Amaro still gets to keep his precious, precious prospects.

Let’s get the point… wouldja do it? Considering that Dom Brown is the untouchable and Aumont is the guy the Phillies wanted from Seattle for Lee, what would you be willing to give up to have a pitcher like Oswalt next to Roy Halladay in the rotation.

Or, is the move to wait for the bats to come before adding Pedro again while thinking the Padres are only a good losing streak away from shopping closer Heath Bell.

Me? Well, the future is now, isn’t it?

Phillies seeking that special slump buster

The baseball gods are a superstitious lot. Amongst theballplayers who call themselves the devoted, the trick is to never disturb the gods and upset a happy equilibrium. Jim Thome used to say he had a little thing he liked to call karma, but really he was talking about the baseball gods and how they mustn’t be trifled with.

Based on these beliefs, it is clear that someone with the Phillies messed up. Somehow that delicate equilibrium was disturbed in such a way that the team is caught in an epic hitting slump that should carry a parental warning before the television broadcast.

WARNING: Children with the slightest interest in baseball should leave the room when the Phillies come to bat. Please, think of the children. Self-masochists only.

No, the Phillies recent bit of suckitude is not for the weak. They have scored 10 runs in the last nine games, including a game where they scored an unearned run and won thanks to Roy Halladay’s perfect game. During the current road trip the team went from second in the league in batting average to sixth and from second to ninth in runs scored.

But thank those baseball gods for Halladay. With Mr. Perfecto leading the way with five complete games and three shutouts, the Phils lead the National League with six complete games and have a solid, staff wide ERA of 3.68.

So for a club that has been at the top or just off the top spot in runs scored and homers since 2004, a solid pitching staff ought to be about all she wrote, huh? The NL East ought to just about wrapped up by now, right?

Not so fast. The Phillies kick off June just as they started May… in second place. That’s just the way it goes for a bunch of hitters that have been shut out six times and lost another six games when the opposition scored four runs or fewer. Meanwhile, the Phillies have won eight games by scoring just four runs or less.

The question now is who disturbed the baseball gods, and how do they make amends?

Oh, there are theories for both questions. One of the biggest theories floated around is since Mick Billmeyer was caught with binoculars in the bullpen in Colorado, the team just hasn’t been the same. That may be nothing more than a coincidence considering Billmeyer was convincing with his stance that nothing untoward was happening, leaving it with the caveat that he wouldn’t do it unless he knew he could get away with it.

Besides, there is no way to relay the signs to the hitters with just a pair of binoculars from the bullpen. Sorry to say, but Mick just isn’t sharp enough to pull that off and that’s no knock in the bullpen coach. No one is sharp enough.

So that fact that the Phillies are hitting just .237 and averaging a little more than three runs a game since Billmeyer was “caught looking,” is just one of those funny little coincidences. And even though the slump has been about two weeks, manager Charlie Manuel says it feels like forever.

“It seems like it’s been months,” Manuel said. “Something’s got to break for us.”

Not ha-ha funny, though. Instead that’s where theories on how to break free of the swoon and decades of tried-and-true superstition come in.

Oh yes, the Phillies need a slump buster…

We’ve heard ballplayers talk about specific ways to break a slump, but they would require another parental warning to describe here. Or, as Shane Victorino once so delicately put it, the Phillies need to find a “500-pound chick.”

Yeah. There’s that.

No one needs to be told that of all the superstitious athletes, baseball players are the superstious-ish. Sure, Jimmy Rollins has been hurt and Placido Polanco needs a few days off after an MRI. The Phillies slump very well could end when the regular lineup is together and back in place. It really could be as simple as that.

But baseball players don’t think that way. They can’t even rationalize it. Though a patch-work lineup and some injuries could be the culprit for the swoon, ballplayers are going to take some extra batting practice, look at some video and then hit the town in order to entertain a plus-sized lady after the ballgame. The most integral part of the equation is the evening out with a certain type of lady.

Look, no one is arguing that baseball players aren’t pigs. We get it. The problem is the Phillies are in Atlanta for the next couple of days, which rates very low in the Men’s Health magazine’s list of “fattest cities.” Conversely, Philadelphia usually rates very high in these types of rankings. If fattest city rankings were like Major League Baseball, Philly would be like the Yankees or Red Sox—some years they are the best, but they’re always hanging around.

In other words, if you see one of the Phillies out on the town during the next week or so, just leave him alone because he’s working on his swing.

USA for Africa

Bob Bradley is a smart man. As the coach of the U.S.World Cup team headed for South Africa on Monday, Bradley has to be pretty sharp. So when listening to the coach speak after games it’s best to listen to the words he’s not saying as opposed to what is said.

Now this isn’t to say that Bradley is performing avant jazz by bebopping and scatting confusing and cryptic phrases on our ears. No, far from it. However, following the 2-1 victory over the national team from Turkey on Saturday afternoon at the Linc, it was evident that the coach believes his team has some more work to do before its first match against England on June 12.

Again, Bradley wasn’t hiding anything, but then again he really didn’t have to. There was no conspiratorial tone from Bradley whatsoever. Still, it seemed as if Bradley was trying to sell the notion that everything was going to be OK.

Certainly that’s a relative term when it comes to U.S. soccer in international competition. Still, based on the team’s painful 0-3 showing in the last World Cup and the experience of the players on the current roster, Team USA has to be a little better than OK. It’s the round of 16 or bust in South Africa for the U.S.

Still, Bradley touched on a few themes after Saturday’s game against Turkey. Call them buzzwords for a lack of a better term. Based off a first half where Turkey clearly outplayed the U.S. and took a 1-0 lead into the locker room and a second half where Bradley’s team dominated the action, those terms were reaction, transition, response and most importantly, understanding.

In other words, Bradley is still doing a lot of team building and teaching with his team with the World Cup to begin in 11 days.

“The type of game we were in pushed the team very hard and that’s what you want from a game like today,” Bradley said. “The response, especially in the second half, was a strong one. We did a good job pushing through the second goal, we had a couple of chances to get the third goal, but when you consider everything that’s gone on the last few weeks it puts us in a good position and I think now we’re ready to move on to South Africa.”

See, he thinks the team is ready. Bradley knows there are still plenty of question marks with his team, and though the game against Turkey ended well, it should be noted that it is not a team that will be competing in the World Cup and is currently rated 29^th in the latest FIFA world rankings. So when Bradley talks about the team pacing itself during the first half it raises an eyebrow considering goalie Tim Howard exploded out of the penalty area to bark at a teammate for some perceived lackadaisical defense.

If the U.S. team was pacing itself, someone forgot to tell Howard.

“We were a little all over the place,” Howard said. “I’ve been saying that’s been something we have to try to get better at, and we don’t have a lot of time to do it.”

Of course there is the notion that the U.S. team was still trying to figure out some things. During the first half the team looked slow and disorganized—reaction and response as Bradley pointed out—but when the coach subbed in Jose Torres and Robbie Findlay and paired them with star midfielders Landon Donovan and Clint Dempsey, everything clicked.

In that regard, yes, there was an understanding of what the team can do and who can do it. That will be valuable when the team gets going in South Africa—especially considering the team has a favorable draw in its group. Sure, England is No. 8 in the FIFA rankings (the U.S. is 14^th), but there are two winnable games against Slovenia (23^rd) on June 18 and Algeria (31^st) on June 23. Potential opponents in the round of 16 are Australia (20^th), Ghana (32^nd), Serbia (16^th) and the always tough Germany (6^th).

No, the U.S. is not going to win the World Cup. At least not until the next Kobe Bryant and LeBron James opt for soccer instead of other sports.In other words, this could be a very good year for U.S. Soccer… that is if it can take care of a few issues before the games start. That means no more repeats of the first half of the game against Turkey in Philadelphia.

“It was a slap in the face what happened in the first half and they hit us hard,” Howard said. “They were getting too many chances, too many good opportunities and good looks that we had to tighten up. …”

Like Howard said, there isn’t a lot of time to iron it out, but Bradley remains positive. He has to.

“There’s a lot of things on the field to build on, a real good push when we got behind and in the end a good heartfelt win against a good team so, in that regard, we accomplished a lot,” the coach said.

Now they have to accomplish something in South Africa.

Chooch gets the party started

Carlos Ruiz runs pretty well for a catcher. No, he’s not going to go from first to third on a single hit in front of the right fielder. He’s also not going to steal too many bags or stretch a double into a triple. That’s just not his game.

But Ruiz will always run full out even for something as simple as backing up first on a grounder to second. In fact, catching Ruiz in a forgetful state is a rarity. If he needs to be somewhere he will get there as quickly as possible.

That’s an important role on a team as good as the Phillies. After all, when the team clinches a spot in the playoffs or World Series, it needs someone like Ruiz to hustle to the mound in order to wrap up the pitcher into a bear hug. The best example of this was after Brad Lidge threw that slider past Eric Hinske to end the 2008 World Series. Not even a beat after the ball hit his glove, Ruiz was up and sprinting toward Lidge. Two steps into his dash, Ruiz flung his mask aside like he would if he were chasing down a foul pop behind the plate. A couple more steps and he had collided into Lidge’s arms seconds before Ryan Howard and the rest of the team buried him.

Ruiz is eerily consistent, too. After the Phillies sewed up the NLDS and NLCS in 2009, he was right there on top of Lidge by the time the last out was recorded. Certainly there’s rarely a time before the playoffs begin where a party starter like Ruiz is needed, however, because the Phillies have been so good lately the catcher has ironed out his routine pretty quickly. Undoubtedly, those abilities came in handy on Saturday night after Roy Halladay finished up his perfect game in Miami.

So when Ronny Paulino hit a sharp grounder to Juan Castro at third, Ruiz took a route to back up the play not too far from the base line so that when Howard picked the throw he could be a few steps closer to mob Halladay.

And just like in the postseason, Ruiz dashed toward his pitcher with his arms, eyes and mouth wide open. It’s almost as if any great moment can be officially complete for the Phillies unless there’s that shot of Ruiz running with unbridled joy bursting through the picture.

Just don’t take this as proof that Ruiz is some M.L. Carr type waving a towel and firing up the crowd, guess again. Not only could Ruiz get to an All-Star Game—thanks in part to all those sellouts at Citizens Bank Park—but he very well could be on the way to establishing himself as the best Phillies catcher ever.

OK, that’s a bit of bold line considering Ruiz is in his fourth full season in the majors with a .251 lifetime batting average and is already 31-years old. Actually, the fact that he even made it to the big leagues at all is a testament to his fortitude. Shifted to catcher even though he was signed as an infielder, Ruiz fought against himself and the position to succeed. As a result, he got the nickname, “Chooch,” because he used a derivation of that term as a self-insult to not be afraid of the ball when turning into a catcher.

Not only did a nickname emerge from the veritable trial by self-masochism in a mask, but also a really good catcher arrived, too. Initially, Ruiz was seen as a stop-gap or transitional backstop between Mike Lieberthal and some other guy. The problem with that idea was no other guy emerged. Sure, maybe someone will come along soon, but no time soon.

That means more Chooch… and that’s good.

So aside from his ability to get to the mound quickly, Ruiz is the catcher the Phils’ pitchers love to throw to. Watching Halladay in interviews after his perfect game, he was quick to give credit to his catcher.

“I can't say enough about the job that Ruiz did tonight, really," Halladay told reporters. I felt like he was calling a great game up until the fourth or fifth, and at that point, I just felt like I'd let him take over and go with him. He did a great job. Like I said, it was kind of a no-brainer for me. I'd just go out, see the glove and hit it."

It’s always big deal to Ruiz. Bullpen coach and catching instructor Mick Billmeyer says if there is one fault Ruiz has in his game it’s that he cares a lot. If a pitcher has a bad outing, Billmeyer says Ruiz looks at it as a reflection on him. Even when pitchers shake him off, Ruiz takes it seriously.

Indeed, he is a serious man. So much so that when asked which catcher he is most impressed with in the majors, Billmeyer's answer was quick and to the point.

"I like our guy," he said.

Now where does Ruiz rank amongst the past Phillies’ catchers? He doesn’t have as much experience as guys like Darren Daulton, Bob Boone, Andy Seminick, Clay Dalrymple and Lieberthal, but his career averages are just as good in most offensive categories. The difference is unlike Boone and Lieberthal, Ruiz doesn’t have a Gold Glove Award, but even there it’s just a matter of time.

Meanwhile, though Ruiz has been dealing with a sore shoulder he’s hitting this season like he usually does in the playoffs. Better yet, in 38 games Ruiz leads the league in pitches seen per plate appearance and is second in on-base percentage.

In other words, he’s a hitter now, too.

He’s a catcher first, though. When it comes to that, Ruiz spent the night after Halladay’s perfect game on the phone with his mother in Panama reliving the big night.

“It was special for me,” Ruiz told reporters.

That’s evident, and that’s a big reason why Ruiz has endeared himself to the Philly fans. He might not look like Johnny Bench back there, but he’s going to figure out how to get it done.

27 up, 27 down

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JPeVWiIUQs&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

The Meech abides

NEW YORK—There is something pure and wholesome about personal restraint. It’s one of those things that can make a person stronger or sharper. Sometimes withholding an insatiable urge can even make us better.

At least that’s what they say.

So what about the Phillies’ ability to just say no to scoring runs? Sure, it flies in the face of fundamental baseball theory, but the fact that the Phillies have only been able to score in one inning out of the last 45 shows the resolve of a Tibetan monk.

Take a second to think about how difficult it is to go practically five games without scoring a run… Then take a look at the Phillies’ offense and the fact that they slugged their way into the World Series for two straight years. That makes the fact that the Phillies have been shut out by the Mets in three straight games that much more incredible.

Charlie Manuel figured his guys would get one by accident on Thursday night against the Mets at CitiField. How could they not score one off Mike Pelfrey with runners at the corners, one out and the crafty Placido Polanco coming to the plate? It’s been well documented here and in other spaces that Polanco is one of those gritty ballplayers who do all the little things that don’t show up in the box score. He’ll hit the ball the other way, put it in play, and take a few pitches to extend the inning to allow his teammates to get a look at a pitcher’s repertoire.

Except, of course, when he doesn’t.

With the tying run on third base ready to dash home and put the Phillies in a game for the first time in nearly a week, Polanco didn’t hit the ball the other way. He also didn’t do any little things that don’t show in the box score or take some pitches. He didn’t do any of that. Instead, Polanco grounded into a double play to end the team’s best chance to score a run.

The ol’ GIDP shows up in all of those expanded box scores these days.

It’s not fair to pick on Polanco though, especially since he seems to taking it so hard. After last night’s game he admitted that he was incredibly frustrated by the team’s extraordinary restraint and didn’t attempt to mask his displeasure. Jayson Werth, contrarily, dealt with the frustration by shaving off nearly all of the hair from his face. But in his first game with smooth cheeks, Werth made five outs in four plate appearances by striking out three times and grounding into an inning-ending double play when he was able to make contact.

“No matter how you want to spin it, we're still in first place and we've got a real good ballclub,” Werth said.

Werth is right about that, and that’s what makes this uncanny ability to hold back so much more amazing. Figuring that the purification process in nearly complete, the Phillies are probably a game or two away from an offensive explosion.  That’s how it always happens, right?

“Sometimes you eat the bear and sometimes the bear eats you,” Manuel said, but not in a way like Sam Elliott. It would have been better if he sounded like Sam Elliott.

Nevertheless, as written after the game: And sometimes you don’t eat at all.

At least that’s the case for a father and husband from Northeast Philly named Mike Meech. You see, so dedicated to his team is Meech that he decided to go through a purification process of his own just like the Phillies by staging a hunger strike until the team deigns it necessary to score a run. Since 5:15 p.m. on Wednesday, Meech has not eaten a crumb of food. Reports indicate that he purchased a stromboli for $15 to feast upon when the time was right, but Polanco, Werth and the rest of the Phillies had other ideas.

So now Meech is entering a world of pain. Mark it zero, dude. By the time the Phillies dig in against the Marlins on Friday night it will be more than 48 hours into the hunger strike. Needless to say, he’s fragile… he’s very fragile, man. He needs some nourishment and that stromboli is getting rotten waiting for the Phillies to score a run.

So we have to ask: Has the whole world gone crazy? Is Meech the only one who gives a bleep about the rules? A man has to take up a cause from time to time, and our friend Meech has decided that if the Phillies are going to go down, he’s going with them. Undoubtedly Charlie Manuel can appreciate the plight of one of his biggest boosters considering ol’ Chuck has decided to show more restraint when it comes to his diet, too. In fact, Charlie has been imbibing on a certain brand of diet food, which makes a hunger strike more preferable by comparison.

So when you’re sitting down to watch the Phillies tonight, think of Meech. Better yet, make a sort of Lenten appeal by standing with a man who has put his team’s welfare in front of his own. That’s right, I’m telling you to put down that fork and that hillock of food compressed into a box or a bowl and do the right thing.

Meech and Charlie will know about it and will appreciate the gesture.

What goes around comes around

NEW YORK — It’s nothing new that the Phillies are thetalk of baseball. Get to the World Series two years in a row and win the NL East three straight years and there’s a tendency for others to do a little gabbing. That’s just the way it goes.

Still, the Phillies could not have imagined that some of the guys on other clubs as well as the national media types would be talking about them the way they have over the past couple of weeks.

As Charlie Manuel says, “Not good…”

It’s bad enough that the team has been shut out twice in a row by the Mets and three times in the last four games, but it’s not worrisome. Teams go through those offensive funks every season and the Phillies are no different. Sure, the hitters “stink right now,” as Ruben Amaro Jr. put it on Wednesday, but stink happens. The 15 runs in the last eight games swoon will be corrected because all that stuff evens out.

But what should folks be worried about with these Phillies? Well, there’s a bunch of things. It’s never good when the manager complains of listlessness and malaise from the team during the slump. The fact that Manuel closed the clubhouse doors for a little chat after the latest loss to the Mets is a pretty good kick in the pants—probably a better reality check than the 13-0 on the scoreboard the past two games.

Eventually, however, the Phillies will hit. There’s no fear in that. Sure, it might start with one of those home run feasts the team is known for where the majority of the scoring comes from a few bombs, but whatever. It’s worked so far. Instead, the fact that other teams and making fun of the Phillies is a big warning sign of where the team is…

They are a big-market club just like the Yankees and Red Sox.

Look no further than the message on a t-shirt seen in the Rockies clubhouse this week with a not-so veiled shot at the Phillies:

“We have: 84 home games, Tasers, Roy Halladay, Your signs.”

[Note: word is the guys behind the shirt are from the popular site, Zoo With Roy. They sent one to Rockies' manager Jim Tracy and outfielder Ryan Spilborghs had one in his locker. See, you never can have enough quality t-shirts.]

Put it this way—they aren’t making up shirts disparaging the Royals or the Pirates. Nope, that only works for the Yankees and Red Sox, which should serve notice to the Phillies that they are one of those teams. Sure, they knew as much already considering it’s tough to go to the World Series two years in a row without going unnoticed. But maybe the Phillies were unaware that other players, teams and fans saw them as arrogant.

C’mon, admit it… if Shane Victorino was on another team you’d look at him the way you saw Matthew Barnaby or Danny Ainge.

Remember when Phillies fans took delight in being the spoiler? Those were trite and sad times that did nothing more than to illustrate how mediocre the team was. Like there was that series at the Vet in 1986 where the Mets came in with a chance to clinch the NL East only to go away with the champagne still on ice. Or there was that Labor Day game where Curt Schilling beat the Yankees with 15 strikeouts. Ultimately they were defiant, fist-in-the-air moments that added up to nothing.

Taking pleasure in slowing the trip of people going somewhere doesn’t change the fact that you are still a loser.

That’s not the Phillies anymore. They are the team going somewhere while a bunch clubs like the Mets are trying to ruin the fun. They’re making up t-shirts and everything.

So what’s the plan? How can the Phillies turn 84 home games, tasers, Roy Halladay and the opposition’s signs into quiet respect and humble goodness instead intense dislike and unrepentant arrogance?

Tough one, huh?

How about this: when another manager tells the media that your team is a bunch of jerks, don’t rub his nose in it and tell him to, “quit crying.” If someone wants to be a jerk there’s no sense matching that behavior. Nobody wants to watch a jerk competition[1].

Another good idea is to not trade former American League Cy Young Award winners. That’s just the height of arrogance, isn’t it? Imagine believing your team is so good that it can send away a pitcher who produced the greatest postseason in team history since Grover Cleveland Alexander for a bunch of prospects. How are the teams that don’t have any Cy Young Award winners going to view that?

And how are they going to react when they get two shutouts in a row against you?

If the Phillies had legit trade bait aside from Domonic Brown, I’d suggest trading to get Cliff Lee or Roy Oswalt and wait for the bats to come alive. I’d also try to remember that what comes around goes around. Nothing lasts forever, folks. Someday the Phillies will be back trying to knock off good teams going somewhere.

Anyway, we’re here at CitiField waiting to see what Charlie has to say a day after his meeting. Be back soon…

---

[1] There are more pithy ways to describe this contest that are more suitable to the popular nomenclature, but we’ll just leave that for Meech or Deitch.

History is unwritten

I was looking for some insight, maybe even someperspective. It’s for good reasons, too, considering I like to have some level of knowledge before I pop off about something. That’s not a popular sentiment in some areas of our popular discourse these days, but whatever. I’m old fashioned like that.

So in digging through my archives, I set out to try to figure out if there is a connection between the 1987 Flyers that lost the Stanley Cup Final to the Edmonton Oilers juggernaut in seven games, and the Flyers team that will face off against Chicago on Saturday night. Are those teams and this group at all similar? Is there anything tying together their trips through the playoffs?

In a word, no.

First of all, it’s incredibly odious to compare teams from different eras. Don’t believe me? Then go watch the HBO documentary on the Broad Street Bullies or are a classic hockey game from a decade ago for comparisons sake. What you will find is that today’s game is so much faster. It’s almost like watching Borg and McEnroe play tennis with wood rackets compared to Federer and Nadal with modern equipment.

Even though the game is different, the drama has not changed a bit. In 1987, the Flyers dropped the opening two games to Edmonton and were trailing 3-0 in Game 3 at the Spectrum before winning three of the next four games to force Game 7. Rookie Ron Hextall, the losing goalie, won the Conn Smythe Trophy, and was suspended for the first eight games of the following season for teeing off on Kent Nilsson as if he were a Titleist and his goalie stick were a 3-wood.

The game moves too fast now, but it would be difficult to draw any comparisons with the Oilers team that won the Cup. There were seven future Hall-of-Famers on the Oilers that season, including Wayne Gretzky and Mark Messier.

Seven Hall of Famers on one team is an anachronism from the days when there was no such thing as a salary cap, so it’s wise to leave it in the past.

Which is probably a good idea considering the way guys like wrote off the Flyers at the end of the regular season. For instance, on this very site I reasoned that it might not be a bad idea for the Flyers to fall flat on their faces and regroup during the off-season. Playoffs?

Check it out:

Is it simply a matter of trimming some payroll and adding some different players? Were the injuries too much to bear? Is the chemistry all wrong? How about all of the above?

Would a collapse that results in the Flyers not making the playoffs be the best tonic for the long run?

We’ll find out soon enough.

Guess what? Bad idea. Perhaps it shows that the Flyers were a team constructed for May and not October. After all, Chris Pronger has a certain knack for getting to the Stanley Cup Final, and the injured masses have a way of healing really quickly when no one would fault them for hanging it up for the season. That stuff definitely defines the character of the guys on the team.

Or maybe it says something about a sport when three of the four times a team rallied from a 3-0 series deficit to win came in the NHL. In hockey, anything can happen and the regular season is pretty much meaningless. Just look at how the Flyers, as the No. 7 seed, got to the finals. They knocked off the No. 2 seed in five games, rallied from a 3-0 deficit to beat the Bruins, and then hosted the conference finals against the lowest-seeded team in the tournament.

What?

“We haven’t done anything conventional all year,” captain Mike Richards said. “We’ve gone against the grain the whole way.”

But does that add up to the Flyers hoisting the Cup in a week?

That’s the difficult question. The law of averages and logic has to catch up sooner or later… right? After all, the Blackhawks went through the top seed in the West to get to the finals and have won eight of their last nine games. Moreover, the Blackhawks haven’t lost back-to-back games since the end of March.

Are the trends going to fall apart in the Stanley Cup Final?

Let’s just say something that has not occurred since the Kennedy Administration will go down at the Wachovia Center next week.

Sorry, I’m going with the Blackhawks in six games. Why start betting on the Flyers now?

The Pronger Effect

For those of us with a goofy, gapped-toothed grin, the subconscious takes over a lot. Those tight-lipped or mischievous grins are as much a byproduct of a genetic flaw as they are a representation of the personality.

Oh sure, Letterman and Madonna are always flashing those pearly whites, and a gap between her teeth never limited Lauren Hutton, but for the rest of us it’s just another way to build character.

Yet for Chris Pronger it’s more about being a character as it is showing character. And certainly both traits are in full force for the spiritual leader of the Stanley Cup Final bound Flyers. See, Pronger has no problem flashing a goofy, gap-toothed grin because maybe it’s a prideful thing for a professional hockey player. More than 16 tears into his NHL career, Pronger still has his teeth and he has a tough time refraining from showing them off.

How do we know they are real? Simple… who gets crooked false teeth with a gap between the front ones? Remember that classic, toothless smile Bobby Clarke beamed while gripping the Stanley Cup circa 1974? Yeah, well take a look at Clarkie’s smile now—they’re straight as an arrow and whiter than a model in toothpaste commercial.

So what’s the deal with Pronger and that wacky sense of humor that makes him want to show off those chiclets? Is the guy ever serious, or is it that he just can’t help himself? Whatever it is, good or bad, it’s as clear as that goofy smile that Chris Pronger loves to play hockey.

“You can’t get too focused on one game,” Pronger said, flashing a wry smile at a reporter. Then again, that’s pretty much how every interview with Pronger goes. They are partially a battle of wits mixed with an exhibition of ironic humor and some astute hockey knowledge mixed in. The guy knows how to work a room and wear you down.

The funny thing about that is it’s almost exactly like Pronger’s style on the ice. Maybe a player can’t get too focused on the ice, but for the playoff veteran, his intensity is as sharp as a laser. Over the course of a long series, chances are Pronger will just wear out the opposition. Considering that he has been is playing a league-leading 28:48 of ice time per game and is one of three players to average better than four minutes a game on the power play (4:30) and penalty kill (4:25) throughout the playoffs, Pronger knows a thing or two about how to focus.

Exemplifying this point is that during these playoffs, the Flyers are 8-0 after Game 3s. Don’t think that this doesn’t have something to do with Pronger back on the blue line.

“He's a big body right there on the ice,” teammate Simon Gagne said. “He’s tough to beat one-on-one. He blocks shots and plays very well on the power play. He’s the full package. Now that it’s playoff time, he's able to play more minutes right now.”

The result is that 8-0 as a series wears on, and a down-to-earth perspective that seems a bit extraordinary for a guy with two Olympic gold medals, a Hart Trophy, a Stanley Cup and a chance to add a second one with his third appearance in the finals with his third different team.

When the Flyers traded for him, a lot of hockey pundits penciled the team into the Stanley Cup Final. But after a disappointing regular season that saw the team sneak into the playoffs by the skin of their crooked teeth, it’s hard to be surprised that the team has come this far.

Some have labeled this “The Pronger Effect.” For whatever reason Pronger’s teams are always a tough out this time of year.

“He’s the one guy I want to be playing with, not against,” forward Danny Briere said.

Well, yeah. Considering that Pronger is often voted as the league’s dirtiest player, he’s not one to tangle with. The same goes for reporters with questions, too. No matter what the circumstance, there will be a joust of some sort with Pronger stirring the pot.

Now how is it that he still has his real teeth?

Nevertheless, with an anticipated matchup with the Blackhawks’ 260-pound Dustin Byfuglien looming, Pronger has to be ready for some bone crunching and teeth rattling. But that’s the easy part. The difficulty for Pronger is trying to compare all three of the Stanley Cup Final clubs he’s played for.

The thing is, he says, the 2006 Edmonton Oilers, 2007 Anaheim Ducks and 2010 Flyers are all unique.

Do they have anything in common?

“No,” he said with the grin disappearing. “Each team has its own identity. Each team has to forge its own path.”

Once again, Pronger’s path has led him to another Stanley Cup Final. Funny how that happens.