Main

Today, Saturday, August 9th, marks the birthday of Phillies analyst Chris Wheeler.

Birthdays can be good or bad, depending on how you see them. It can be another year older, or a celebration of, yep, I made it through another year. Pain free and healthy, hopefully. How old is Wheels? I don't know. But the way he looks and talks, the way he thinks, I'd say he's closing in on 40.

I do know this, he is a terrific analyst and makes watching or listening to a Phillies game a pleasure for a baseball fan. If you played Little League, American Legion, high school or college baseball, you might think you know the game.

But when you watch a Phillies broadcast and listen to Chris Wheeler, you realize how much you don't know about the game.

Chris Wheeler is Penn State proud, too!

Not long ago, Wheels, a '67 Penn State graduate, made two sizeable philanthropic gifts to the College of Communications at Penn State, one to create the Christopher C. Wheeler Scholarship endowment, and another for student scholarships in the John Curley Center for Sports Journalism.  

Wheels could have bought a yacht, a house at the shore or a nice condo in Florida. He could have taken a few trips around the world. But he didn't. He gave the money so kids could get an education at Penn State.

That right there says something about the man.

When asked about the Penn State support, Wheels simply said, "I just want to help out."

And no matter who his booth partner has been through the years--Richie Ashburn, Andy Musser, Tim McCarver, Larry Anderson, Scott Franzke, John Kruk, Scott Graham, Jay Johnstone, Gary Maddox, Mike Schmidt, By Saam, Kent Tekulve, or Tom McCarthy, Harry or Sarge, Chris Wheeler is always respectful and professional with his colleagues. Chris Wheeler is a class guy.

I hope that Wheels never retires. I would miss what the man adds to Phillies baseball.

Chris, Denise and I will be in section 115 tonight, nine from the field, looking up at the booth, waving, and wishing you a happy birthday. 

"Put me in Coach...I'm ready to play..."   (could be the Fanatic's favorite dugout-dance music)

Or maybe it's the dancin' Irish music...

It's time to talk about money.

Have you noticed that in the AL East $43 million just swept $133 million? Lots of folks thought the $43 million would have died out long ago, but guess what?

And have you noticed that in the NL East $21 million has been hot on the heels of $98 million? Lots of folks thought the $21 million would be back down in last place by now. You know, as the Amish say about their corn, "knee high by Fourth of July." But guess what?

And how about $8.5 million now pitching in triple-A? Who would have ever thunk that back in April? He was the Ace. Lots of folks  thought he'd adjust from the closer role, but guess what? And get this: The pitcher the $98 million team could have gotten last January for $4.5 million, a bargain at today's prices, just won his tenth game for the Cardinals. That surprised lots of folks, but not more than it surprised Pat Gillick.

The $8.5 million Ironpig pitcher might not win his 10th game until August. Next August. That's August 2009. Okay, you got it, I hear you. And the pitcher the $98 million team paid $10 million for last season, you know, the one who won just one game? Which surprised lots of folks, is ready to make a come back and guess what? The Mets, Yankees, and Tigers are lining up for him.

He'll most likely sign for another $10 million and go on to win 15 games, which would be quite a feat and surprise most everyone because the season is half over.

How about this little cookie: In the AL East, $209 million is in third place, seven-and-a-half games behind $43 million. If Papa George was still running things, he'd make France's Committee of Public Safety--that's the group that made the guillotine famous back in the revolution--look like a protest on high coffee prices. Which wouldn't surprise anyone. 

The $118 million club out on the West Coast that picked up the $209 million team's manager in the off season and quickly gave him $13 million is four games under .500 but has closed to within a game-and-a-half of the NL West leading $61 million team. Everybody thought the $13 million manager, who won all those championships with the $209 million club, would pick up where he left off. But guess what? 

Now the AL Central leading $121 million team's DH, the one who the $98 million NL East team is paying $22 million of his $85 million contract, is hitting .216 with 16 homers. That's seven dingers shy of the NL East $400,000 second baseman on the $21 million team. Now that suprised a lot of folks.

Now the NL East $98 million team just swept the NL East $102 million team with their $500,000 new Ace nearly getting the shutout. I hope this Ace doesn't end up  where the old Ace is...that would surprise a lot of people.

Anyway the $137 million NL East third place team is coming to town with their $19 million Ace on the mound against the $98 million first place team's minor league call-up who will get the major league minimum of $390,000, a big jump from his current minor league contract.

If the call-up out pitches the $19 million Ace it will surely, you guessed it, surprise a lof of folks. 

When Robert Edward Lee brought the Army of Northern Virginia up through Frederick, the cherry trees were just beginning to bear fruit. Them Rebs ain't tasted nothin' so sweet since they left Becky at the roadside and joined-up to fight them Yankees. Short on food but not on guts, some 70,000 Rebs moved northward into Pennsy from orchard to orchard.

'Old Pete,' General James Longstreet, told Lee to back away from Pennsylvania. It wasn't the time or place to fight, he said. They argued about it, but Lee out ranked him. Lee was also minus his eyes and ears in Pennsylvania: J.E.B. Stuart (left), another Virginia-born West Pointer, who didn't show up until the second day at Gettysburg. Then he was soundly defeated by an upstart cavarly commander named George Armstrong Custer, who got himslelf promoted because of it. Most kids today know he died later at the Last Stand.

Stuart died at Yellow Tavern, not a southern drinking hole but a Richmond suburb which just happened to be in the way of Phil Sheridan's friendly little march to the sea.

How was was JEB Stuart Lee's eyes and ears? He constantly circled the Federal troops providing Lee with important troop size and location information the entire war. Until Gettysburg, that is. Lee was without Stuart's information at Gettysburg and it showed. 

Turned out, Longstreet was right. George Meade whipped Lee's butt, but Lee--out manned and out gunned--made it out of Pennsylvania and with what army he had left, back into Virginia. After the war, Lee became a college president, and heart disease finally killed him in 1870. Surely Lee must have been a liberal.

The rest is  history.

But eyes and ears are important, especially to Field Marshall Charlie Manuel.

Coming off two butt whippings of their own by platoon leaders J.D. Drew and Vladimir Guerrero, Manuel's troops limped West young man to face three more decsive campaigns at Oakland, Texas, and at the battle of Stone Mountain in Atlanta. If you can stay up late, there should be plenty of smoke and cannon fire.

Problem is, sometimes the Phillies are long on food and short on guts. 

Now just seven games over 500 and a slim lead over Florida, the club then returns home to face a ticked off Mets team whose slogan may be 'bickering will get you everywhere,' in a four game series, followed by central and western bullies St. Louis and Arizona.  

Charlie has got to have some eyes and ears.

Why? Because if it hasn't dawned on you by now, it might in a few weeks: This team isn't good enough have fun in October.

And if it isn't, here are some alternatives for you to ponder:

• What about a trade for a top pitcher, someone like Houston's Roy Oswalt or Seattle's Erik Bedard?
• Is there a young arm at Allentown or Reading who can step in, such as 'can't miss' Carlos Carrasco? 
• Or how about retreads Greg Maddox, Randy Wolf, or God help us, Paul Bryd?
• Are the Fightins' willing to let go of Shane Victorino or Jason Werth to trade for pitching?
• Or do we stick with Myers and company and shore up on a hitting catcher and a pitcher someone has given up on and nobody wants; a Grandpa Moyer or another rough diamond find like Kyle Loshe?

Or is that a diamond in the rough? Temple University's first president--most likely a liberal, too--was good at finding those kinds of diamonds. He wrote a book, in fact, called 'Acres of Diamonds,' which was not a national best seller, but he got his point across.

Remember the day when the big trade at this time of the year was the most effective clout? Just think of the pitching a Chase Utley could bring, since the club has a rising star in the minor leagues at second base in Adrian Cardenas, another can't miss. They are all can't miss, untill they peek at a Johan Santana fastball.

If pitching is not everything but the only thing, like some people claim, perhaps an Utley deal would make sense. Only about 20,000 people, however, would cancel their season tickets. Not bad, let's do it.

The point is, if they do something, or if they stand pat and do nothing, it's the eyes and ears--the scouting system, the JEB Stuarts of the modern world--that will make the difference again this season. Calling up a Kendrick or sending minor leaguer Matt Maloney to the Reds for Loshe was crucial to the Phillies playing in October last year. Or how about picking up a J.C. Romero in June after Boston cut him loose. How big was that? 

Because you do know what the difference was between a hot dog in Atlanta or New York last season and a hot dog in Philly, don't you?

The doggie in Philly you could buy in October. "Hey...doggggggggggggggie here...dogggggggggggieeeee, get your dogggggggggieeeee, here" 

(By the way, I was only kidding about trading Chase Utley)

Every school year teachers prepare children for the annual PSSA exam, a mandatory assessment test in Pennsylvania required by all public schools under the federal law No Child Left Behind. Let's take a peek into a fourth grade classroom to see how an experienced teacher drills her children to prepare them for this rigid test.

"Okay, class," Miss Aimes says, "we are going to do some review for the upcoming PSSA test so I want everyone to clear their desks, fold their hands on top of the desk, and listen very quietly. If you think you know the answer, please raise your hand. There will be no calling out. Okay? Everybody ready?"

"Yes, Amir, what is it?"

"Miss Aimes," Amir says, "I've got to go to the bathroom."

"No, no bathroom breaks during PSSA questioning. I want every child concentrating to their upmost ability, now are we ready?"

"But Miss Aimes, I got to go!"

"Okay," Miss Aimes says, ignoring Amir, "here is our first question. "Which state has the highest gross national product? Yes, Jamil, it's good to see your hand up, go ahead.

"Florida," Jamil says, "cause they got two teams in first place and they ain't payin' them nothin' cause they got the lowest payrolls and in New York they got no teams in first and the Yankees got the highest payroll and they suck."

The class erupts in  laughter..."ah, ha, ha, ha, ha...ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha..."

"Oh, Jamil, please, we don't speak that way here. You may say 'they are terrible', but not what you said. And besides, that's baseball and we are not focusing on that right now."

"Whatever Miss Aimes, but they still suck."

"Class, let's try a math question. What would be the square root of one million?"

"Jamil, it's you again, okay go ahead."

"It's one thousand," Miss Aimes, "cause Andruw Jones, he signed with the Dodgers for $36.2 million for two years and he's gettin' $8 million this year and $9 million next year, with a $12 million signing bonus and he's hittin' a buck sixty-five with just two dingers and he's fat and just went on the DL."

"Jamil, how does that figure into the square root equation?"

"Cause that figures out to be $1,000 a pitch and  besides, my Grandma says that greed is the root of all evil."

"Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.....ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha...ah, ha, ha, ha"

"Okay, okay, that will be just enough of that. This PSSA test is the most important test of the year and we have to do well and if we don't I could lose my job and you don't want that to happen, yes Lawana?"

"Miss Aimes if you lose your job my father works at the Ford dealer and he says they is lookin' for a cashier."

"Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha....ah, ha, ha, ha, ha....ah, ha, ha, ha.....ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha..."

"Enough, enough, class, now settle down and take these questions seriously. Now this is a world history question that you will find on the fourth grade PSSA test. What country did the United States drop the atomic bomb on in order to end a war? Go ahead, Mei Xing?"

"Wait, wait," Jamil blurts out, "that's not fair, Miss Aimes, I had my hand up first. You're stifling my education."

"Okay Jamil, but I want a good answer to this question. This is very important."

"Miss Aimes, there is a player on the Cubs who came from that country, but I can't say his name because it sounds like a bad word."

The students gasp collectively as all eyes turn to Jamil.

"Oh Jamil," Miss Aims says, "a person's name is his identity. You shouldn't worry about that, go ahead, what is this person's name and what country does he come from?"

"Ok, Miss Aimes. But don't say I didn't warn you. The country is Japan and his name is Kosuke Fuk-u-dome."

"Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha...ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, , ha, ha, ...ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha....."

"Class, class that's enough. Settle down. Jamil, do you want to go to the office? Is that really his name? Yes, Amir, what is it now?"

"Miss Aimes, I got to go..."

"We are almost done, class. This is a health question about eating properly. Why should a person try to eat fruits and vegatables instead of foods that contain sugar and fats? Okay, Jamil, your hand was up first, but no usage of words that have other meanings."

"Okay, Miss Aimes, but a person shouldn't eat sugar and fats so you don't end up like Charlie Manuel lookin' like he just came from a Wing-Bing Bowl and got runner up."

"Ah...ha, ha, ha, ha, ha...ah ha, ha, ha, ha, ah....ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha..."

"All right, unless you would like to continue this after school, we better stop fooling around right now. Jamil, plu---lease let another child answer the next question.

"Here it is: Does the Mississipi River flow north or south?"

Not one student raised a hand, and all eyes shift toward Jamil. The classroom fell silent.

Finally, Jamil shoots up his hand.

"Miss Aimes, I don't know nothin' 'bout no Mississippi River, but I do know that the river under Amir's chair?...is headin' south right toward Kierra's new shoes."

"Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha...ah, ha, ha, ha, ha,...ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha...ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ...ah, ha..."

From that great movie, The Witness: Don't Know Much About History..........

Matt and I left State College in a minivan heading east on 322 and it was raining cats and dogs. By the time we got to Harrisburg and banked left to the Pennsy turnpike, it was no longer raining cats and dogs; it was raining bull mooses and elephants. Wipers at high speed was the only possible way to see twenty feet of highway. 'This is crazy,' I thought.

"You got to dance with the one who brought you"

Going into center city the rain was back to cats and dogs and slacking off. We parked on Broad Street and looking like two deck hands on the Maid of the Mist, we anxiously skipped down the subway steps and caught a train that was jammed packed. We stood the ten minutes or so to the Pattison stop, then followed the multitude back up the steps and into the cool October night air. It was sprinkling now and by the time we got to our seats, the rain had stopped. 

"Stay with the one that wants you"

Matt was 13 when he and his dad on a perfect evening for baseball, watched from their first row upper deck seats behind first base at the Vet, Curt Shilling take apart the Toronto Blue Jays with a five hitter in game five of the 1993 World Series. What a game! What a night.

It took 14 years and lots of report cards through junior high, high school and college--some good, some not so good, and some that didn't make it to mom and dad's hands--to replicate that championship feeling. In the final game of the 2007 season against Washington, with 44,000-plus towel waving fanatics at Citizens Bank Park--scroeboard watching and roaring on every pitch from the sixth inning on--a talent loaded Phillies team back-peddled into a division championship.  (And what it looked like from our seats.)

"The one who is going to love you when all the others go home"

Fourteen years is a lot of time to think about a fastball down and in, which is exactly where Mitch Williams threw it to Joe Carter in the bottom of the ninth; at night, in a foreign country, with lots of kids staying up late. "Aw, Ma, one more inning, please? It's the World Series."

"Don't let the green grass fool ya"

The 13 year old is a big boy now and has his own company; a big shot entrepreneur, and William's fastball to Carter is old news. But the lanky, funky, smart-aleck hard throwing lefty who struck me out in Dream Week, just got a major career boost from the New York Times with a nice feature in Sunday's paper. Well, sort of.

"Don't let the moon get to ya" 

The Times story, nearly a full page, isn't all peaches and cream. It points out some of the Wild Thing's weaknesses, like anchoring 610 radio and yelling profanities at a female referree at one of his kid's games. His response? He's an emotional guy. I am too, but...

He's also quoted in the Times article as saying Roger Clemens didn't take steroids and Shane Victorino should be the Phillies everyday center fielder. Hmmm, interesting.

"Dance with the one that brought you and you can't go wrong" 

Which brings me around to Phillies broadcaster Chris Wheeler. Wheels is without a doubt the best analyst in baseball, bar none. I've played some ball in my life, been to some Phillies games--still go to 15-plus a season--and listen, watch and read about baseball as much as I can, even write about it now and then. But when I listen to Wheels I can appreciate his depth of knowledge for the game. I learn something every time I watch or listen to him, whether he's with T-Mac, Sarge, or Harry the K. I tip my hat to the Phillies because along the way, they could have replaced Wheels with an "up and comer." But they didn't, and shouldn't. It would have been a big mistake. 

And sure, I get pumped when Harry (plus Sixers call "are you kidding me?") makes a home run call, who doesn't? But when it comes to knowing the game and articulating it day in and day out, nobody does it better than Wheels. He's a hall of fame broadcaster who adds so much to the game and is appreciated my thousands of staunch Phillies fans. Wheels has been there and has been good long before Tim McCarver dyed his hair. 

Mitch Williams and others like him are working their way through the system to be where Wheeler is now, and perhaps take his place when retirement calls.

But I have some advice for them: Keep practicing.

Dance with the one who brought you and you can't go wrong"

Optimists see just the good in life; pessimists worry about the bad. Optimists see silver linings in clouds, pessimists worry about hidden tornados. 

But worrying is part of humanity. Sometimes we worry about ridiculous stuff, just to worry about something. I think worrying runs in the family I came from, worrying about things either real or perceived real; and adding in negative thoughts dreamed up. 

Are you getting this?

Worrying is waiting at a traffic light and thinking something bad might happen to your kid, or the boss looked at you funny, or you mailed the credit card payment late, i.e., interest rate doubles. The list goes on and on. I use to worry about many things until I started running but since then I'm worry free.

And when it comes to the Phillies, I'm forever an optimist.

Pessimist: He made his first big league plate appearence at the age of 24--that story is for another day-- pinch hitting for Vicente Padilla against Jaret Wright and struck out.

In 2005, his first year in the bigs he hit 22. If you remember, Jim Thome had season ending surgery in August and he jumped in and won the Rookie of the Year Award. That gave the Phillies a slight problem so in November Thome was traded to the Chicago White Sox. Can you say Wally Pipp?

In year two he hit 58, setting a record for most home runs in a players second year and breaking Mike Schmidt's Phillies record. And nobody ever uses the words steroids and Ryan Howard in the same sentence. Year three? Forty seven in 2007 after spending time on the DL.

Tuesday night against the Nationals he struck out three times and Ryan Howard Wednesday morning was hitting a buck eighty three with 10 and 25. He was a flash in the pan!

Optimist: Don't worry about Ryan Howard, he went two for three including a double and dingers 11 and 12 last night, with four ribbies upping his totat to 29. Just a little dip early in the season, is all. Pitchers will soon start paying.

Pessimist: Brett Myers is currently sporting a 5.76 ERA, is 2-5, and is looking more like Adam Eaton lately than John Smoltz. Putting it in baseball terminology, Myers has been getting hammered. Besides, he's overweight and hasn't prepared himself for the season. He's a discrace. If he's the Phillies ace, we should find a new deck of cards.

Optimist: Listen, he was jerked around from starter to closer, then when Lidge surfaced, put back into the rotation. He's got to adjust and he is. He was less hammered Monday night allowing 8 hits, 3 earned runs over six innings. He's coming back, trust me. He'll be fine. You'll be eating your words come September.

Pessimist: Jimmy isn't getting on base, have you noticed that? When that happens, we start losing. Is his ankle bothering him? I bet that's it. You can't trust the Phillies to tell you the truth. If he goes back on the DL, we are cooked. The Phillies can't win without him.

Optimist: What are you talking about, he  had two hits last night. He's hitting .315 for crying out loud. Every player goes through a little funk, as Chris Wheeler says. Call me back when you see who the starting shortstop is at the Allstar game.

Pessimist: My God, the rotation is a mess. Between Myers, Eaton and Moyer, a bunch of ERAs in the high fours, low fives. What kind of rotation is that? Eaton might not win another game all season and Moyer, at age 45, is lucky to be on the roster. No way can you be optimistic about this lousy bunch.

Optimist: Trust me, Eaton is going to turn it around soon. He's been on the verge of it. He just needs to string a couple of wins back to back to build his confidence. Myers will make the adjustment to the rotation, and Kendrick will be Kendrick, he'll kick it up. Did you watch Moyer pitch last night? He scattered seven hits over six innings, no runs, and lowered his ERA to 4.37. Besides, when you need a win, Moyer can rise to the occasion. See final game of the 2007 season against Washington.

Pessimist: Brad Lidge. The way he's pitching he's pricing himself right to New York next year because the Phillies won't pay him what he'll want. So Rent-A-Lidge is beefing up his stats and saves to make his get-away.

Optimist: Hey, we wanted a closer ever since Wags left town and now we have one. Stop worrying about things you can't control. If he leaves town for more money, he won't be the first or last. Enjoy him while we have him. If the Phillies want him, they will keep him.

Pessimist: What kind of manager do we have. All he does is chew bubble gum and look fat. Cataldi says he's the worst strategist ever. He doesn't look like he knows what he's doing. We should have hired the guy at Detroit like Angelo says.

Optimist: Stop listening to 610 radio and think for yourself. Charlie is the right man for this team. There are not a lot of managers who know more than him. He knows his baseball. He could write a book on hitting. Besides, wasn't Cataldi a hockey writer? What the hell does he know about baseball? What the  hell does he know about anything?

Pessimist: I've got you on this one. He's so over paid it's a joke. Fifteen million for what? Okay, he had his little perky fluke in the beginning of the season. Now he's back wailing and flailing at the ball, and leaving runners in scoring poistion. If he's back next year, I'm a Yankees fan for sure.

Optimist: Better get those Yankees' tickets. Pat Burrell has solid numbers over his career. He comes to the park to play. But he suffers from DelEnnisism, people expect him to hit one out every time up and if he doesn't he's a bum. I'll take him on my team this year and next. By the way, how them Yankees doing?

Well, look who's back in town!

Some folks asked me about writing the Phillies blog. But when my friend at the Reading Terminal said he missed reading it, I figured it was time to eat or cut chicken. Or maybe that's fish or cut bait. Whichever, it's baseball season and time to get excited.

I took some time off to concentrate on a new book I'm writing. The book is 60 percent, maybe 70, so I think it's okay to return to the blog, as long as I don't go crazy with it. If you wish not to receive this, email me and I will take you off the mailing list. Believe me, you won't hurt my feelings. If you know somebody who would like to read it, send me their email address. So here goes...

Some things change, some things stay the same. So let's take a look at 'some things' since my last post in the fall.

Just when Brad Lidge brought to mind visions of Danny Tartabull and Freddy Garcia--and a few in between--with a spring training first-day-knee injury, the Phillies good fairy sprinkled some Phillies gold dust. Or did she? 

In 1997 the Phillies paid $2.3 million for Tartabull's seven at bats, but mild in comparison to the Freddy Garcia trade and a one year deal for $10 million...for pitching 58 innings, a 1-5 record, and a 5.90 ERA.

OUCH.

Making matters worse, the Phillies traded Gavin Floyd and Gio Gonzalez for Garcia. Floyd is currently 3-2 with a 3.32 ERA with the White Sox.

But Lidge ain't no Freddy Garcia: Except for a rocky save Tuesday night, Lidge has been unhittable with that nasty slider. But think about this: With a one year contract for $6.35 million (Billy Wagner is makinig $10.5 million this season), if he continues to pitch the lights out the Phillies won't be able to afford him and maybe he'll end up in New York next season.

Then there's Barry Bonds. He was charged Monday with a new indictment with 15 felony counts for denying using performance enhancing drugs. Also that he tried to disrupt the federal investigation, or what is called obstruction of justice.

In simpler terms, he's again accused of lying to a grand jury when he said his personal trainer Greg Anderson never supplied him with steroids. He's also unemployed at age 43 because no major league team would sign him. Meanwhile the Major League Players Association, one of the strongest unions in the world, is  considering whether to file a collusion grievance against teams for not signing Bonds. We having fun yet?

Meanwhile, Roger Clemens continues to deny he had any sexual relationship with Monica Lewinsky. "I did not have sex with that young woman," the Rocket was quoted as saying. At least I think it was him who said that.

Was at the Phillies game Wednesday night with two engineers, one from Wales, who was attending his second baseball game and the other from Ukraine, who was attending his first. Two pretty smart dudes if you don't mind me saying so. About the second inning, the engineer from Wales leans forward and says, "Ron, don't you think the chap pitching is a bit out of shape?"

Our of shape? It's appalling how out of shape and overweight Phillies pitcher Bret Myers is; he looks like he was recruited off the street, handed a uni, and sent to the mound. And Myers, who will turn 28 in August and is sporting a 5.91 ERA, wonders why he's getting hammered and says he's going to work his way through this. Hey Bret, lose some of the baby fat and get back to us.

But the Phillies continue to insist that his weight has nothing to do with the speed of his fastball, which is dropping faster than Eliot Spitzer's..., no, I'm not going there, this is a family website. 

Did you read where President Bush said if he was starting a major league team and had to pick one player to build around, it would be Chase Utley? I'm not sure Utley needs that endorsement. After all, didn't Bush declare victory from an aircraft carrier in the Gulf about...five years ago? Besides, chances are Utley's a liberal, after all he and his wife Jen saved that puppy. Have to be a liberal to do that, right? You can read about that and see the news report . (click on the play symbol on the puppy)

And motor mouth Angelo Caltadi is still raking Charlie Manuel in the free newspaper The Metro. I see lots of people reading The Metro on the buses and subways so its got to be eating into the Inquirer and Daily News' circulation. Plus add home delivery of The USA Today and the New York Times and you wonder how long the two Philly papers will stay in business.

Here's what Caltadi says about the Phillies skipper in The Metro. You can make up your own mind, and I don't agree with every move Charlie makes, but I'm not on board with Caltadi. Might be that the Wild Thing, a frequent quest on Caltadi's radio show, may be feeding him stuff, along with some other disgruntled know-it-alls.

Scott Bruce Rolen is coming to town this weekend. I'm sure you saw that Rolen had a little tizzy fit with Cardinals' manager Tony La Russa and consequently was shipped off to the Toronto Blue Jays in the off season. The Jays come to town for a three game series starting tonight and the boos will rain down on Scottie boy. Poor Scott signed an eight year, $90 million contract with the Jays. What's that? You wonder how he's doing?

He missed the first few weeks of the season with an spring training finger injury but through 19 games and 70 at bats is hitting .300 with 2 taters and 9 ribbies.

Which brings me to J.D. Drew. The Boston slugger is hitting .296 with 3 taters and 17 ribbies, through 33 games and 115 at bats.

If you are wondering how these two compare to Mr. Pat Burrell, stop because I'll show you. Burrell, who my father-in-law is trying to trade like crazy, well...you decide: .299, 9, and 31, through 41 games and 134 at bats. As I tell my father-in-law, a pretty good athlete for the North Catholic Falcons and semi-pro football, you can't look at individual at bats, you've got to look at the overall numbers.

But when you're 90, you can look at any damn thing you want. Oh, sorry about that, family website, remember? It looks like Mr. Burrell might just stick around next season.

Pat, here's hopin' that you do.

I'm going to leave Pat Gillick and steroids alone for a while, so this is my last column.

With my  new  job at Drexel University, I need what little time I have for rewriting parts of my book Our City, and to continue seeking publishers. I had a couple of close calls, but the book still remains unpublished. And I think it's  more than good enough.

It took Tom Clancy five years to get his first book published. I've been at it a little over a year.

But since it's that time of the year, I'll end it all with a few predictions:

• Pat Gillick has  not done enough to ensure the Philles repeat in ' 08. So Taduchi, Brad Lidge, Geoff Jenkins, and Chad Durbin are mere cosmetic touch-ups to what's really needed: One or two first rate starting pitchers and one or two key bullpen additions.
• Andy Reid will rebuild the Eagles in ' 08 and it will not include Donovan McNabb. Reid will build the team around Kevin Kolb and Brian Westbrook and take them back to the playoffs.
• That my son and I will enjoy our tickets to the new game in town, the indoor football team, the Philadelphia Soul.

Thanks for reading my column and I hope you have a great New Year!

Have you ever wondered what the rich buy each other for Christmas?

What's there to get? If they have everything they need, how can you shop for them?

I know this rich family; well, they may not be the richest, but they are quite well off. More so than the next family; more than you and me. They live in a gorgeous home and for the first time in 14 years were recently mentioned in Forbes Magazine.

But there was something funny about this family. Parked in the driveway, in front of their 12 car garage, was a beat-up old Chevy that has had better days.  

The dad's Ferrari and the mom's Mercedes Vaneo would veer around it nicely, seemingly to ignore the beat up old junker like it was a hedge fund they knew would go south faster than Enron stock after Ken Lay fired all the Arthur Andersen accountants.

And that was puzzling because it didn't fit in with the decor.

Now the neighborhood was about as happy with the  driveway junker as with a country club bartender who never laughed at their jokes or a chat room addicted Nanny. They were paying big bucks where they lived and frankly weren't overjoyed with the eyesore relic.

They made numerous suggestions to the family that the rotting Chevy has to go or they won't make Fobes for a another 14 years and and if that happened then surely many of the loyal neighborhood supporters might begin leaving faster than Eagles fans down by 14 late in the third quarter.

But this year the family just didn't want to make Forbes, they wanted to rise to the top of the rich list like the peppermint schnapps in their creme de menthe. And everybody told them" "You can't do it with the junker in your driveway."

So the family hired a consultant and he looked at the neighborhood and the home and the junker and said the family has enough wealth that the junker really doesn't matter. He told them they should still rise to the top of the list in spite of it. In fact, he said, the family, if it wants to get to the top spot, should put their emphasis in not removing the junker but in putting their wealth in blue chip stock to bolster their portfolio.

Unlike many other families in the neighborhood, this rich family doesn't have a lot of younger internet stock which secures the future, or they trade the internet stock for more stable blue chip sfuff to help them rise to the top faster, like some of the families in Boston and New York do.

Now the consultant is an old school guy who is near retirement. So maybe he doesn't quite see that the true wealth of this family isn't getting any younger; and the family may have to sell some of its valuable portfolio to avoid paying astronomical taxes on several of its commodities.

So if this family has any chance of making the Forbes top spot, before some of its blue chip stock has to be sold, maybe this is the year.

Then why leave the junker in the driveway?

It proved to the family last year that it couldn't make the long drive or stop the gas from leaking out of its tank.

Get rid of the driveway junker!! Put a BMW in its place, and lets rise to the top next year! There may not be another year. 

George J. Mitchell, the former senator of Maine, spent the better part of a year writing a 400 page report that says Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa and Mark McGuire were not the only major league baseball players who used illegal, performance-enhancing drugs.

In fact, Mitchell identified 89 other major league players including:

• Hall of Famer Roger Clemens
• seven former MVPs
• 20 men who played for the Yankees
• players from all 30 major league teams

Out of all the investigating, only one player cooperated with Mitchell: The Yankees' Jayson Giambi. What did you expect?

So let me ask you this. Did you think that Barry, Mark and Sammy were the only users? Did you have to sit down and hold on to something when you either read about Mitchell's report in the papers or listened to it on radio or television? Were you astonished that Lenny Dykstra, the bloated up little Pete Rose clone who led the Fightins' to the World Series in 1993 was a 'roid man?

Come on, let's get serious about all this.

I remember when I discovered my entrepreneurial skills in high school. You see, at my high school you were either born with a silver spoon in your mouth, or you stole it from the cafeteria, and I was definetly in the cafeteria group (Lisa, don't let my neices read this). 

At my high school, at least with those I kept company with, you proved you were in the cafeteria group, or from the Hill, in one big way: You smoked. You not only smoked but you smoked in school, which, like performance-enhancing drugs, was a no-no. Later, if you quit smoking, like me, okay. But if you continued smoking you are most likely dead now. 

The place at school where most Hill kids smoked was the boys room. It was our sanctuary. The silver-spooners wouldn't even enter the boys room so I'm not really sure to this day where they went to the bathroom. Perhaps they simply held it in.  The teachers and principals had to catch the smokers with a lit cigarette. Just a smoke-filled boys room would not implicate you. Can you see the parallel here?

Anyway, I invented the wet paper towel trick at my high school. That's right, I'm not making this up. Upon entering the boys room, with some 20 kids from the Hill puffing away, you would pull several paper towels out from the dispenser and hold them under running water. Ring them out, then light up.When the look-out spotted a school official heading toward the boys room and gave the signal, like: "Put out them butts, Miller's comin'," you simply wrapped the soaking paper towels around the lit cigarette and drop the whole mess in the trash. You could never be implicated.

I also played high school baseball and several of us--I won't mention any names besides Pete and Gary--did some smoking in the locker room boys room between games of a double header. The wrestling coach caught us. He couldn't believe we were smoking between games of  double header. We swore up and down that it wasn't us. He was both astonished and amused and let us go (besides, our team would have lost the second game if he would have busted us). Another parallel.

If you asked me today if I was smoking in the locker room between games, I most likely would say no, especially if my three children were anywere in listening distance. Unless, of course, I was being asked by a grand jury. Yea, sure.

So I ask you, what did the Mitchell report actually do? We know they juiced up, we know Bonds and McGuire weren't the only players to juice up, and frankly, there were a hell of a lot more players who juiced up than the 89 Mitchell named. In fact, I think Mitchell should be barred from the game for only coming up with just 89 players, who, if I may add, were dumb enough to be caught. Even old man Miller back in high school could name more Hill smokers than that. That is, if he's still amongst the living.

So let's do this, shall we? Forget about the players who juiced up. Let's stop tattletailing like the silver spooners use to do, let's let Barry off the hook and reinstate Pete Rose to the Hall and let him counsel young players in spring trainging every year against the evils of gambling, and forget about all this crazy steroid stuff. How the hell can you prosecute Barry when Roger, Sammy, and Mark are sitting home counting their money?

But be damn sure about this: Make your drug testing stringent and fool proof enough that people who love baseball won't have to worrry about any more juicing up. Can you do that major league baseball? As a fan, I don't care about the past. I care about spring training and the start of the 2008 baseball season. And I don't want to see any more Phillies' players showing up for camp looking like Lenny.

PS: And get Pete Rose back in baseball, did I mention that? 

Maybe you saw it. The cartoon where the kid was practicing the piano with his mother standing behind him holding the sports page with the headline: 'Centerfielder Signs $90 Million Contract.' And she says, "Never mind with the piano, go on out with the boys and play center."

As deals go, the centerfielder Torii Hunter got the better of the three. At 32, he signed with Los Angeles of the AL for five years, $90 million. That rolls out at $18 million a year and by the time he's 35, the Angels might be mailing the checks to his Palm Springs retirement village.

Andruw Jones on the other hand had to settle for two years at $36.2 million. He could have run a few more ground balls out and maybe beat the throws and got five. But the Dodgers figured the 30 year old centerfielder still has a couple left, just not five.

Then comes Aaron Rowand. The Phillies wanted to keep this poster boy for toughness in centerfield, but were not willing to go the distance. At age 30, he plays risky defense--not risky for the team but for himself--and hit .300 just twice in his career. He was looking for job security and who could blame him. I am too.

The Giants rolled the dice and gave him a five year contract for $60 million, which pans out to a measly $12 million a year. Security? Who wouldn't want those numbers. For the average Joe, that's hitting the lottery. Not saying he's average, but check back with me in three or four years.

And the St. Louis Cardinals traded 37 year old centerfielder Jim Edmonds to the Padres. Edmonds is entering the second year of a two year, $19 million contract. He is not coming off a good year. 

Which brings us around to the Phillies. I don't blame the ball club for not landing Rowand. He plays a good centerfield and is a decent, solid bat down in the lineup. But five years can be a long time. Hell, in five years, Gillick may be fishing in the Puget Sound and trying to decide whether to use squid or a teaser jig.

Now though, he's trying to improve a ball club that took the NL East like it was an announced asile-sale at Walmart. And lots of folks are saying they didn't win it, the Mets lost it. Tommy Glavine took the ball in the final game of the season and pitched like it was an old timers game...and he was the special guest. Meanwhile 44,000 towel waving fanatics at Citizens Bank Park were scoreboard watching and going gitty after a 14 year lull of 'we'll get 'em next year.' Hey, thank God for Kyle Kendricks.

Well, next year is here. We Phillies fans are racing down the steps to look under the Christmas tree to see who Gillick got. Well, so far, Gilick ain't got much. 'Cept for a an aging arm-hanging veteran bullpen ace who's better days are several years before Ed Wade got done sky diving and got a new job. Even Wade knew Gillick would bite on this one: A race horse outfielder named Michael Bourn who may very well become a hit machine who steals 30-plus bases a year and covers center and the four oceans.

Listen, Gillick got Lidge on a one year deal and that we can all thank Santa for.

Since the Padres now have Edmonds in center, suddenly juicer and free agent Mike Cameron is attractive and Gillick is interested. On day it's Shane Victorino  and the next day maybe it's Cameron, who would be unavaliable for the first 25 games of the season because he tested positive for a banned substance for the second time.

Meanwhile, you kids keep practicing in center because one of  these days the Phillies will wake up and add some talent to that young core that's not getting any younger. So maybe we don't have to wait another 14 years.

Next: Things in common: Steroid use and smoking in the boys room.

• 716 at bats, a record--and proof that he didn't miss many games with an in-grown toenail
• a .296 batting average
  
• 212 hits
• 139 runs scored
• 38 doubles
• 20 triples
• 30 home runs
• 41 stolen bases
• .380 total bases
• .531 slugging percentage usually reserved for the Thomes and Howards of the game
• 94 RBIs--see reference above to larger, more powerful men
  
• the fourth player in ML history to have 20 or more doubles, triples, homers, and stolen bases in a season
• all the while, playing his shortstop defensively and statistically better than any shortstop in either league 
  

(The children's comments are real, taken from memory, and usually followed by classroom laughter, including teacher laughter; "Oh how I loved to hear them laugh.")

Back when I was a teacher, like my Cuz, or a mentor of young, adolescent minds, take your pick, I'd always get the question: "Yo, why'd we got to study this crap?"

At first, I'd explain it this way. If you know about and study what happened in history and understand it, then the chances are you can prevent it from happening again. To which the response was: "You mean somebody gonna dump that tea in the ocean again?"

So I thought a little about it and changed the direction of my answers to something like this: Studying history is getting to the truth. The truth about what really did happen and how it affects what we do today. Not only what we do but who we are.

To which I got answers like: "Hell, they been lyin' all along about the stuff they been doin' and they still lyin' today. So how can you believe any of that crap?"

Okay, let's open our textbooks shall we?

Perhaps if we study what the Phillies administration did last year, we can truly look at what they need to do this year to improve the team. To start off today's discussion, let's examine both sides of the coin. If you listen to 610 radio in Philadelphia you get negativity generated toward Phillies GM Pat Gillick and field manager Charlie Manuel. The 610 bottom feeders say Gillick is "over the hill," and Manuel is "over matched" when it comes to game strategy. Yes.

"Do we need to take notes on this? No, I want you to think about both sides of the coin. "What coin you talkin' 'bout? I don't see no coin."

However, when the vote was tallied for NL manager of the year, Charlie Manuel came in second. Plus, the Phillies rewarded Manuel with a new two year contract, and of course, you know he managed the club to the Eastern Division crown. The amazing part about that, say the pro-Manuel campers, is he did it despite major injuries throughout the season. Do you agree with that? Go ahead.

"Jamaar, he lookin' at me, he ugly so tell him to stop lookin' at me."

The bottom feeders say he got lucky and when it comes to managing the club day-to-day, he's outmaneuvered and doesn't have the brain power to make NL changes, i.e, double switches, etc. Tonight's homework will be to define a double switch.

So I ask you, where does the truth lie? Yes, Jerome?

"Can I go to the boys room?" No, pay attention, this in important. "Ok fine, I'll go in my pants right here and it's your fault. You got a mop in that closet?"

They say Gillick is too old and is semi-retired and as a  result neglected the bullpen last winter. Then when it became obvious that the bullpen was terrible--about 30 games into the season--he covered himself and moved Brett Myers there and brought in a bushel of wasted and washed up relievers headed by Generalissimo Mesa. He relied on Tom Gordon when everyone knew Gordon was going down before folks started for The Shore.

Actually Gordon went down on May 3rd, several weeks before folks started for The Shore. Yes.

"Sir, what's the shore?

Speaking of Barajas, Gillick wasted good money not only on him but on Wes Helms too and both proved to be poor choices because they couldn't do what Coste did and that was hit the damn ball. Just think what the team could have done getting middle and back-end relievers with the millions wasted on Barajas and Helms?

But the pro-campers disagree: Hind-site is 20-20. They say sure, Gillick made mistakes on Helms and Barajas, but all GMs make mistakes. You win some and lose some. But look, they say, Dobbs and Werth turned out good, and look how quickly Gillick got Tadahito Iguchi when Chase Utley got hurt and how he found Kyle Lohse when the rotation sputtered.

But then the bottom feeders just say two words: Garcia and Eaton.

Garcia, $10 million and one win-and-gone. Eaton, a three year contract for $24.5 million with a first year 6.29 ERA. Just when the Phillies needed him down the stretch he stunk and then was left off the post season roster.

The pro-campers? Other than 'stuff happens,' no comment. Look how many dead body mistakes Andy Reid has made. Can you say Freddie Mitchell?

All right, what is it?

"At my home we don't say 'stuff happens' we say...."

Okay, okay, Ayana, not here, please. Keep that to yourself.

So maybe the kids are right. Finding the truth can be difficult. Now we are being told that Aaron Rowand can go fly a kite--after we've watched promotion video after promotion video of him crashing into the center field fence--and our new third baseman is Dr. Cement Glove, Wes Helms, who can do everything Chris Coste can do but...you got it, hit the damn ball. We are being told there is only money left for pitching, not center filed or third base.

Sound familiar?

Think maybe in May the club will be doing another  emergency search for anybody or somebody who can stop a one-hop line drive to the right or left of Dr. Cement Glove? Or what about those of us who check the box scores everyday and see Rowand's name at the top of the list of leading hitters in the NL?

Do you think the Red Sox would be telling their fans: We are concentrating on pitching help and are not looking to strengthen position players.

Say what? Are you kidding me?

Yes, your hand is up, do you have a question?

"Sir, if they was lyin' last year 'bout the bullpen, don't you think they be lyin' again this year 'bout other kind of stuff like who they gettin' to replace that guy who ran into the fence and messed up his face?"

Interesting point, Rahdeem. Obviously you are interested in receiving extra credit for classroom participation.

"Yea, whatever."

Yes, go ahead, what do you want to say?

"I want to say that when I get home I'm tellin' my  mama that you usin' the curse word damn and you ain't lettin' Jerome go to the boy's room when he got to go."

Happy Thanksgiving!

J-Roll MVP!

"Little darling...the smiles are returning to the faces." Thanksgiving Day song from the best group in the history of American music. Also from the Bee Movie. And yes I did see it.

A true Thanksgiving Day story from the heart.

"The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it

can never forget what they did here."

Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, Gettysburg Address, November 19th, 1863

"Nothing I say will cause the fans to turn their opinion of me, but what we do will cause the fans to turn their opinion of us."

Neal Huntington, Pirates new General Manager, Pittsburgh Address, October 10, 2007

Let's say I own the Pittsburgh Pirates and you my dear friend are a long-time die-hard fan, who, when cut, bleeds yellow and black for your beloved Pirates and Steelers. Maybe you live in one of the fabled Pittsburgh neighborhoods such as Shadyside, Squirrel Hill, or with the well-to-do on Schenley Heights.

Perhaps you teach or take notes at one of the finer bastions of education in Pittsburgh such as the University of Pittsburgh, Carnegie Mellon, or at Duquesne University, where first year basketball coach and Pittsburgh native Suzi McConnell-Serio--the pint size point guard with a five-gallon-drum-size heart and the pride and joy of Seton-LaSalle High School and the Nittany Lions, and U.S. gold medal winner in Seoul in ' 88; bronz medal winner in Bacelona in ' 92--leads the Lady Dukes on and off the court.

But no matter where you live or what you do, if you are a Pirates fan, life...is not good.

Your team hasn't had a winning season in 15 years. Meanwhile, the exodus of good ball players beginning in1992, when your skinny left fielder exercised his right as a free agent and you watched him surpass The Babe and Hammerin' Hank going yard, all the while mysteriously gaining weight and looking more like Shaq than Barry.

But what do you expect? With a miserable payroll of $38.5 million, which, doled out, can afford you a few good ball players but way too many Double AA players in major league uniforms. And the good ones, as soon as they reach either arbitration or free agency, leave town faster than your steel mills which at one time turned day into night.

To rub salt into open wounds, the money I did have to attract free agents to Steel City I burned up on more dead body mistakes than the drug dealers had this year in the Hill District: A four year, $15 million extension to Pat Meares who hit .230 in 219 games-and-gone; and a two year, $9 million contract to Derek Bell who played only 46 futile games-and-gone. Ouch!

 (If you want extra credit homework, Google Raul Mondesi and report back to me on what happened. I want a two page, word processed (double spaced) report entitled: 'Another Pirate Dead Body Mistake Goes Dominican Republic')

Which brings us around to the Pittsburgh Address.

Given all the failure for a baseball proud city--home to hundreds of great ball players: Clemente, Hoak, Face, Friend, Groat, Stargel, Wagner, Mazeroski, Traynor, Sanguillen, Van Slyke, Parker, Kiner, etc., etc. and etc.--what do I provide you for the ' 08 season?

• A club president that has never run a major league team or even worked for one.
• A general manager, Neil Huntington, who issued the famous Pittsburgh Address, see at top of page, and who has never been a general manager and wasn't even an assistant general manager.
• And a field manager, John Russell, who has never been a major league manager--in fact, I fired him as the Pirates third base coach two years ago because of his dismal success rate at getting Pirate runners home safely..."runner's outttttttttttt"--and last year managed the Phillies triple A Ottawa team to a 55--88 season. Wow. Impressive.

But you know what? Maybe, just maybe, this group of the blind leading the blind will stumble over each other and end their losing streak. By the way, if the Buccos do lose for the sixteenth season in a row, they tie a record held by...

The Phillies, of course!  

(Remember the Pirates theme song for the championship year in 1979? Sister Sledge in We Are Family.)

If inner-city school districts try to change, it will cost big money won't it?

But even with revenue sharing the Rockies payroll of $54 million was still way below the major league average of $82 million and $90 million less than its World Series opponent.

Which brings us around to you, the Rays' owner. Your club has never had a winning season and you've received money from the haves' pool every year. In 2006 you received a nice check for $35 million, which is what A-Rod may get each year for the next ten years. Did you take that money and improve your ball club? No, and shame on you.

In 2006 your team had a payroll of about $35 million, way below the major league average, and in 2007 your payroll, even with your revenue sharing funds (the $35 million check?), actually dropped to $24 million. So, I ask you, where did the $35 million revenue sharing money you received go?

And don't give me any bull-story. Since you received the money from the haves' pool, why didn't your payroll go from $35 million in 2006 to $70 million in 2007? With $35 million additional funding and a little luck, you might have played above .500 for the first time in club history, and maybe put some more fannies in your empty seats.

What's that you say? If you would have done that--put the $35 million into your payroll and improved the club--more fans might have showed up for the games and guess what, when they tallied up the gate receipts the following November, your $35 million revenue sharing might have drop to $20 million.

Hmmm, sure, I understand that. So I guess what you are saying is that you would rather have a lousy team with 40 percent of your seats empty game after game, than dare lose a dime in revenue sharing. Sort of like a coke  addict, and we're not talking sugar water, here.

Well, maybe baseball ought to devise a new payout scheme to reward under-achieving teams that will increase attendance instead of rewarding them for decreasing attendance.

But you know what? For Major League Baseball, that makes way too much sense.

The Trade: The Phillies traded prospects Michael Bourn and Mike Costanzo, plus journeyman pitcher Geoff Geary to the Houston Astros for 31 year old closer Brad Lidge. I don't like it and here's why: The Astors will insert Bourn as their starting center fielder in ' 08. Given the chance to play part time this year, Bourn, 24, did well. Handed a  full time job, I think he will become a star. Costanzo hit 27 home runs at Reading last year but also made a ton of errors at third. At 23, he could have Mike Schmidt kind of power. Schmidt hit 26 home runs at Eugene in 1972. 

 Lidge, 31, has had some issues in the last two years. Last month he had knee surgery to repair torn cartilage. In ' 07 he had 19 saves, compared to 103 saves over the previous three seasons. the Phils also received utility infielder Eris Bruntlett. 

The move allows the Phillies to shift Brett Myers back into the starting rotation.

My brother thinks that hitting a pitched major league baseball is the most difficult act in all of sports. Now, brother certainly has a right to his opinion. After all, he was a very good baseball player in his day and a winning coach for many years. So I'm not stepping on his right to voice his opinion.

However, I must strongly disagree. In fact, I will go a step further and say hitting a pitched major league baseball is one of the easiest acts to do in all of sports.

Not that I ever was a great hitter. Even when I played slow pitch for West's Lounge for ten years, I was one of the weaker hitters on the team. Could play third base defensively quite well, thank you, but wasn't a threat at the plate like my friend Dave Sikorski, who could rap a slow pitched softball in the right field corner when the game was on the line.

So let me give you a 'true story' example of why I disagree with my brother. A few years back I received a special birthday present that sent me to the Phillies Dreamweek. That's where aged players go to Clearwater, Florida, for a week and play baseball, wearing a Phillies uniform. For five days in the hot Florida sun in January, 'Dreamers', as they are called, play two games a day. Then, on the last day of camp, the "Dreamers" play the Pros, a team made up of former Phillies players. On the night before the Pro game, additional former Phillies fly in to attend the banquet and play in the game on the following day. And let me tell you, it ain't slow pitch.

  At the banquet prior to the Pros/Dreamers game, I sit next to former Phillies reliever Steve Bedrosian (above). Bedrosian, also known as Bedrock, was a relief pitcher in the Show from 1981 until his retirement in 1995. In 1987, he was the Phillies closer, going 5-3, with 40 saves and a 2.83 ERA, and winning the NL Cy Young Award. Bedrock had a lightening-fast, fast ball, no doubt. But a few drinks at the banquet and sitting next to Bedrock, I'm thinking I'm not Ron but maybe Mike Schmidt.

At one point during the banquet, I ask Bedrock politely, if he still had some 'gittie-up' on his fastball.  He said, "Costy;" the Pros called me Costy.  "Costy,  let's put it this way. Tomorrow, you won't even see the ball."  To which  I said, "We'll see."

During the game at Jack Russell Stadium, I played first base for the Dreamers. I had pitched three games during the week and could barely lift my arm, so Pat Corrales, our manager, put me at first. The Pros were pounding the ball all over the yard and we could barely get three outs on them. Former relief pitcher Mitch Williams hit a bullet line-drive over the left field wall and I can't ever remember hearing the sound of a bat hitting a ball like that.

In the fourth inning, Bedrock came to bat and hit a shot off our shortstop's glove and he beat the throw to first. As I caught the ball, I watched Bedrock run down the line with his back to me, and the thought hit me faster than a Manhattan on an empty stomach. I pretended to toss the ball back to our pitcher, whose name, I think, was Ken Silver, a member of the Philadelphia Orchestra. I kept the ball, and told Kenny to stay off the mound. He picked it up right away and shook his head yes, and he did indeed remain on the grass behind the pitcher's mound.

I went back to first, set up slightly behind the bag, with my glove on my hip and the ball hidden inside. Bedrosian comes back to first, steps on the bag, and immediately takes a two-step lead. I step forward, lean over, and swat his butt with my glove, prompting the first base umpire to yell, "Runner's ouuuuut."

As you can imagine, Bedrosian was ticked. He glared at me and walked slowly back to the dugout. Meanwhile, the Pro-dugout was getting on me big time. Clint Hurdle, who just managed the Rockies into the World Series, was Commissioner of Dream Week and was playing for the Pros. Hurdle has a booming voice and I could hear him yelling my name but I can't say--at least on this family blog--what he was saying.

And of course, I was due up next inning, ready to face a ticked-off Steve Bedrosian. Of course.

I can still remember him glaring down at me from the  mound, his glove on his thigh and the ball behind his back. He looked meaner than a South Philly alley cat that ain't eatin' in two weeks. I did think that he could have easily plunked me in the butt or in the back, or worse yet, up around the head. But after meeting him the previous evening, I quickly discounted that because I found him to be a  really good guy. Besides, if I had any chance of getting my bat on the ball, I had to clear the fear factor out of my mind.

The first pitch he threw me was a strike. I saw a glimpse of white and the thud of the catchers mitt behind me and the umpire yelling, "Srikeeeeee." I just stood there. I couldn't believe how fast he was. He'd make Tony Russo look like a T-ball pitcher. I had never seen anything that fast in my life. It took Dave Greer's slow-pitched softball about three seconds to come down across the place from an arch. Bedrosian's fastball had to be less than a second.

He was all business. He got the ball back and glared in. I stepped out and he made an impatient face. I could hear my dugout giving me verbal support: "Come on Costy, hang in there. Come on Costy get some wood on it."

I got back into the batter's box and dug my spikes into the soft dirt. He came in with his second pitch and that too was a strike. I stepped out and looked out over the beautiful field and at the pros at their different positions and I thought how lucky I was to even be there. It was a gorgeous day; clear blue sky, afternoon temperature in the low eighties. Indeed, global warming had not yet arrived.

I took a deep breath and got back in. His next two pitches were balls. Not that he was pitching around me or trying to get me to chase something. He could care less. I think he may have overthrown both pitches out of sheer anger and determination. What ever, the count was 2-2. After adjusting my batting gloves and toeing the dirt and trying to just look like a ball player, I got set. I told myself I was swinging on the next pitch. I didn't think he would throw another ball. I knew he'd be coming in hard with his best fastball to blow me away. And I was ready.

I had to start my swing as his arm was coming around from the top of his wind-up. I told myself to concentrate on the foot-tap and try to bring my bat around in the vicinity of when and where I figured the ball would be. As he started his wind-up, I lifted my front foot up off the ground and raised my hands up behind my head and I started my swing as his arm came around in front of him.

And then I swung, getting the fat part of the bat on the ball. It felt good, but I wasn't sure where the ball went as I started to first. I could see John Kruck moving in between the pitchers mound and first base, calling Bedrock off. By the time I got half way down the line, Kruck caught the ball. I popped out to first. As I turned and started back toward the dugout, Bedrock, with a slight smile on his face, pointed at me; his way of saying 'way to go.'

In the locker room after the game, Bedrock swatted me with a towel and said, "Costy, way to go...you..."

I asked him how hard he was throwing and he said low to mid eighties. "You got lucky, Costy," he told me. "Don't quit your other job."
  Now I ask you. The most difficult act in all of sports? I think not. After not playing ball for maybe ten, fifteen years, I get off a plane, don a uni, step in against Steve Bedrosian, and I get wood on the ball. And he's is right, I was lucky. But then there would be no way I could get off the plane, don a uni, and run a marathon, even though I still run today. I'm older now but still running against the wind.

Next time, Bedrock, make sure you know where the damn ball is before you step off first base.

(Anyone who reads this and can forward it to Ken Silver, Clint Hurdle, or Steve Bedrosian, please do so.)

The New York Times reported on its front page on Wednesday that major league baseball may be tipping off

players about getting tested for performance-enhancing drugs.

Under baseball's testing program, according to the Times artilcle, all 1200 players on 30 ML teams are tested for steroids and amphetamines within five days of spring training, and at least one more time during the season.

The point of this? Major league teams are notified the night before testers are to arrive at the ball park to do the random testing, and therefore arrangements are made for parking, space for testing--usually in the locker room, and any equipment needed such as tables and chairs, etc.

This could be tipping off the players who, given a 24 hour notice, have time to camouflage their drug use. Given prior notice, drug experts say, players can shower, urinate and remove any patch-like substances and in a few hours can drive down doping numbers.

Apparently it didn't give the San Diego Padres Mike Cameron enough notice because he was suspended for 25 games (at the start of the ' 08 season) by ML baseball after testing positive a second time for a banned stimulant. Cameron, a free agent, said he believed he took "a tainted nutritional supplement."

Baseball is not the only sport in the performance-enhancing drugs spotlite. The CBS Sports website lists the top ten drug scandals. Like Chicken Little, it's everywhere. Go ahead in and read for yourself. It is so rampant, that drug testing must be random, with no prior notice given, or athletes will cheat.

In the NFL, drug testers are given their own space in the locker rooms for year-round testing and players and teams are not informed in advance prior to testing. NFL players are tested in training camp, and each week during the preseason, regular season, and post season; 10 players from each team are tested randomly.

Baseball needs to get more serious about drug testing. Why doesn't baseball clean up its act to prevent performance-enhancing drugs? Why does it continue to give drug-using players chance after chance.

Remember former Yankees relief pitcher Steve Howe? He got EIGHT chances, getting busted for possession and  suspended from baseball for failing drug tests. Darryl Strawberry: Chance after chance for using and possession and throw in solicitation of an undercover police officer posing as a prostitute.

Which brings me to the real point of all of this: The banishment of Pete Rose from baseball.

The Boston Red Sox are not just the best team money can buy.

Granted, their payroll of $143 million is higher than Zimbabwe's GNP, and a little on the spending-heavy-side compared to their playoff foes--Angels, $109.2 million; Indians, $61.6 million; Rockies, 54.4 million. The Boston Red Sox are a team with balance and built for now and the future, and the best example of stocking a baseball team analytically rather than by hunch and gut feeling.

Rookies Dustin Pedroia and Jacoby Ellsbury, both only 24, are two players most teams would die for. Both play outstanding defense and can hit. With just 116 ABs in ' 07, Ellsbury, playing behind the veteran Coco Crisp,  hit .353, and like Chase Utley, has captured the hearts of every young lady this side of puberty.

Something tells me Ellsbury will be the Red Sox opening day centerfielder. Pedroia hit .317 with 8 HRs in 520 ABs, earning possible AL Rookie of the Year honors. He hit a home run in his first at bat in Game One of the World Series.

 The Sox have other home grown players too, including Kevin Youkilis, Jonathan Papelbon, Jon Lester, Manny Delcarmen, and Clay Buchholz, giving them young talent but also giving them payroll flexibility so they can go out and get $103 million Japanese super-pitcher Daisuke Matsuzaka. And of course, the beloved JD Drew who is not to be confused with W.C Fields who said, "Here lies W.C Fields. I would rather be living in Philadelphia." Of course Fields also said, "I drink, therefore I am," and my favorite, "I cook with wine and sometimes I even add it to the food."

It has been recorded that Drew once said, "Are they Eveready or Duracell?" And we are sure he said it in Philadelphia somewhere near the intersection of Broad and Pattison.

I don't know if Boston has a bottom-feeder like Radio 610, I'll have to consult my New England Advisor Officer Jim Looney to find out, but if they do, Drew's name would be ringing up and down the Charles River: One if by land, two if by sea, and for $70 million over five years...three if JD hits only 11 home runs in a season, which is exactly the number he  hit in ' 07: The boos at Fenway will make Philly look like the Honey Bee Festival in Drew's hometown of Hahira, Georgia.

But Drew certainly redeemed himself in the first inning of the sixth game of the ALCS with a grand slam, at which point a collective moan could be heard up and down the Schuylkill River: "Oh, hell no."

Or, as Alexandra The Great, my Interational Advisor would say, "Cet incapable Drew est encore une autre erreur."

Like every team in baseball, the Red Sox have free agent decisions to make, and you can bet it won't be done on hunches and gut feelings, but in number crunching and scouting reports. Curt Shilling, Tim Wakefield, and third baseman Mike Lowell: Will they return for another season, or be let go?

And of course there's A-Rod. Check out his numbers and cry, because baseball is all about numbers. Will the Sox resign Shilling? No. Will they resign Lowell? He's coming off a four year, $32 million contract which, at age 33, paid him $9 million in ' 07. You can bet he'll parlay a very good regular and post season into more money and more years. Of course, why do you think they have good years?

Alex Rodriguez was paid $27 million for ' 07 and opted out of his contract so he go stratisphere: A $300 million, 10 year deal. He will get it, but will he get if from the  Red Sox?  

Boston GM Theo Epstein won't decide on sentiment, but on examining every number produced with the possibilities of producing big numbers again. And with that you can be sure that JD Drew and the Boston Red Sox will again be playing baseball next October. 

Notes: Who would have throught that the Eagles would have the same number of wins as Temple at this point in the year? Penn State is grooming Al Golden for head coach when Joe Paterno retires by letting him work in the minor leagues for a while. If he can win at Temple this year and next year, watch out.

The Inquirer's Jeff McLane had a story in this morning's Inquirer that hit Paterno below the belt, in my opinion. My question is, who the hell is McLane? He must be new, I don't remember seeing his byline before. Here is one of the lines from the article: "There's a significant number of Nittany Lions fans who just don't want to hear the excuses." What is a significant number?

I think there is also a significant number of fans who think he's a hell of a coach and want him to continue coaching. Here's another one of his brilliant lines: "Before the 2005 season, Spanier (Penn State's President) and Curley (AD) famously visited Paterno to gauge the notion that he should perhaps, maybe, please? think about stepping down in the near future." Two questions for McLear. 1) Were you there? 2) Did you speak to anyone who was there?

If not, how do you know all this? Get a life.  

 Here are two questions for you: Do you know Donavan McNabb's uniform number? Do you know what AYP means?

The working parts in major league baseball will soon start changing faster than the numbers at Godshall's Poultry

in the Reading Terminal. Free agency will again have players moving around from team to team, jockeying for more money and more years.

Take the Phillies, for example. You probably won't see in a Phillies uniform again: Antonio Alfonseca, Tom Gordon, Kyle Lohse, Jose Mesa, J.C. Romero, John Ennis, Freddy Garcia, Jon Lieber, Rod Barajas, Tadahito Iguchi, Abraham Nunez, and Aaron Rowand. New faces most likely will replace all of them.

Same for managers. If your favorite team played less than .500 baseball, you might see a new skipper at the helm in spring training. In Philly, the bottom feeders at radio 610 were calling for Charlie Manuel's head after his team won the Eastern Division and finished, 89-73.

But the biggest changes are the general manager's (GM); changes not only in new faces, but in philosophy, too. The Atlanta Braves' John Schuerholz, the longest-tenured GM in baseball and Four Star General of the Old Guard, has stepped-up to team president, leaving behind an impressive run of 14 consecutive division championships, five NL pennants, and a World Series championship.

But for the past two years, the Braves have not made the post season, and for four years before that, the Braves suffered through four straight first-round playoff exits. In baseball, it's not what have done for me? But what have you done for me lately? Schuerholz's assistant Frank Wren will take over as the Braves' GM.

But the change of guard in Atlanta also signals a move away from how players are examined--away from gut feelings and hunches about players, to statistical analysis. Away from the Old Guard--clip board carrying scout in the stands, to the new Smart-Guard--number crunching analytical-college-educated-mathematicians. Can you say Theo Epstein? (photo left)

Florida Marlins' Terry Beinfest is out, his assistant Michael Hill is in. Minnesota Twins' Terry Ryan is out, his assistant Bill Smith is in. Pittsburgh Pirates' Dave Littlefield is out, and 37 year old Neal Huntington is in. Tim Purpura was fired in Houston and Ed Wade, the Phillies GM for 8 years with zero playoff appearances to show for it, is in.

But Phillies fans may thank Temple University's Ed Wade (right), the skydiving GM who never met a tree he didn't like, for not going for the quick fix by trading a Myers, Hamels, or Utley, to fluff his resume.

Jim Duquette resigned in Baltimore and Walt Jocketty, whose club won the whole enchilada in ' 06, got fired in ' 07. The Cardinals said his leaving was a "mutual decision," which means he wasn't fired but didn't quit. Anyway, you can apply for either position online. But don't bother if you are not a Harvard or Yale alumnus/a. Etes vous obtenant ceci, Drew?

Not only are clubs going after the numbers crunching analyticals, but it helps if you went to an Ivy League school. Boston's Theo Epstein, Yale; the Indians' Mark Shapiro, Princeton; the Rangers' Jon Daniels, Cornell; the Marlins' Hill, Harvard. And a dozen other Ivy League grads hold front office positions in baseball. The Pirates Huntington is an Amherst graduate.

Which brings us to the Phillies. GM Pat Gillick is entering the final year of his contract and said he would retire in  ' 08.. His predecessor is sure to be Ruben Amaro, Jr., perhaps a card carrying member of the Smart-Guard and a graduate of the Ivy League West, Standford University. Where Gillick won and lost on hunches from  pot-bellied scouts who were sure Jose Mesa still had some gittie-up left on his fastball, Amaro will certainly number crunch.

Currently Gillick's assistant, Amaro (left) is a pedigree baseball man whose 'no-hit-great-glove' dad was a shortstop for the  Phillies from ' 60 through ' 65; while the color barrier certainly denied his Cuban born grandfather, Santos, who played for the Tampico Lightermen of the Mexican League, access to the major leagues. Ruben Amaro, Jr., 42, spent time with the California Angels, Cleveland Indians, and the Phillies between 1991 and 1998, hitting .235.

He was a bat boy for the Phillies and was the closest human being to Pete Rose when Rose snared the ball after it popped out of Bob Boone's glove at the Vet on a chilly October night in Philadelphia in 1980. In college he helped the Cardinal win their first ever NCAA baseball championship as a senior in 1987. As the lead off hitter that year, he led Stanford in runs (77), triples (6), and stolen bases (38).

From the Old Guard to the Smart Guard. For the Phillies, it won't come too soon.

How do drug dealers get their guns, anyway?

 I was sitting in traffic minding my own business, listening to a George Strait CD, when it hit me harder than the first bill for our kid's college textbooks. "Go on, go on, you were saying how a fool can only fool you so long...it's true, it's so true..."

That's when I got to thinking: Wayne Hardin issued the Hardinian

Proclamation before the football season started. He proclaimed he would fill Lincoln Financial Field for Temple University's opening football game against Navy. That was July, 2007 A.D. Hardin was the last winning football coach before the university started ushering coaches in and out faster than Bill Cosby can say 'do your homework.' Although quite admirable and noble, the Hardinian Proclamation fell short of its goal.

Now get this. Conwell made a famous speech in which he said, "Your diamonds are not in far-away mountains, or in distant seas, they are in your own back yard, if you will but dig for them." This Conwellian message was discovered by John MacDonald in encrypted code on the walls of the Baptist Temple. Was it put there by Conwell? Or some mysterious unknown relic like Al Shrier?

We'll never know. But we do know this: It's an omen. It tells of a great battle in the Golden Era of Temple, a David and Goliath war that will find the Lost Temple, and bring it out of the back depths of the Inquirer's sports pages.

In school, 'the look' is way worse than 'the punch.' Part One

Harry the K: "Uh oh this ball is trouble...deep in the gap in left center going all the way to the wall, it skips off the wall and is headed toward Burrell, Lee scores, Floyd is coming around to score, Cedeno will score...Rowand after the ball AND HERE COMES SORIANO HE'S FLYING...Rowand can't pick it up and Soriano is going to score standing up on an inside the park, grand slam home run and Wheels, the Phillies bullben has given up the lead AGAIN here in the ninth and now trail the Cubs 8-6...

Wheels: "Harry this is unbelievable and it doesn't seem to matter who the Phillies bring in after the sixth or seventh inning they can't hold a lead...now Jimmy is coming out to get Geary and it looks like the lefthander Matt Smith is gonna come in..."

Hear heavy voice in background: This is the 7th game in which the Phillies bullpen has surrendered the lead after the fifth inning.

Harry the K: "Here we are in mid-May and it's the seventh game the bullpen has given up and Wheels it doesn't look like there is any end in sight and the Phillies are really struggling...it doesn't matter if they are home at Citizen's Bank Park or on the road."

Wheels: "That's right Harry first it cost Charlie Manuel his job and...uh oh here come the boos as Geary leaves and it's loud right now, most of the fans are standing between first and third and booing Geary as he leaves the game...

"It cost Charlie Manuel his job and the Phillies, after so much was expected of them this season are mired in last place in the NL East simply because their bullpen can't hold a lead..."

Harry the K: "The boos are loud aren't they...the fans are really getting on Geary..."

Wheels: "Yea there goes Geary he flips his glove in disgust and it lands on top of the dugout and the fans are now standing and booing him for that, boy that's frustration...but Harry the Phillies ought to know better than this you can't leave spring training with a bullpen ERA of 6.44 the worst in the major leagues...then Gordon goes down in the second week of April and he's lost for the season..and they are scrambling to find consistency out there and it's not working..."

"Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears...I've come to bury Gillick, not to praise him."

Failure is a big part of baseball. Offensively, good hitters fail seven out of ten times. So maybe you see a player six out of those seven? Typically then, the word 'bum' comes to mind. Doesn't matter that he tripled while you were at the refrigerator.

Defensively, not a player alive goes through a major league season without making an error, and that's not counting the mental errors that can cost games.

"Here, under leave of Cataldi and the rest; so are they all; all honourable men."

The 610 morning motor-mouth 'cell-phone-oil-salesman' and international free newspaper columnist Angelo Cataldi recently hammered away at Phillies GM Pat Gillick, knifing him in the back for his mistakes on Freddi Garcia, Adam Eaton, Wes Helms, and Rod Barajas. In his column, Cataldi says that Gillick deserved none of the bubbly that flowed like sweet vindiction for a 14 year playoff drought brought on by cheapness or stupidity or both.

"The evil that men do lives after them...the good is oft interred with their bones."

  Cataldi has fallen into that trap of picking out the bad, i.e., trade Chase Utley, after all, he made 354 outs in 2007 and 89 of them were strike outs. What a bum! General managers, like second basemen, fail; they couldn't possibly succeed all of the time. Take for example a few GMs whose names might ring a bell.

"So let it be with Gillick, the nobel Cataldi; Hath told you that Gillick is ambitious...if it were so, it was a grievous fault."

Boston Red Sox GM and wonderboy Theo Epstein has a World Championship flag hanging from the roof top in Fenway Park, but several dead-body-mistakes hang there, too. Mistakes like Byung Hyun Kim, Edgar Renteria, Jeremy Giambi, Ramiro Mendoza, and Jeff Suppan.

Check out the numbers on $100 million pitcher Daisuke Matsuzaka and decide for yourself if he was a mistake. 

South on I-95, the Yankees Brian Cashman also has some dead-body-mistakes hidden amoungst the Yankee Stadium monuments and plaques of Ruth and Gehrig. Mistakes like Hideki Irabu, Jeff Weaver, Kevin Brown, Jose Contrares, Javier Vazqie, Jon Lieber, David Wells, Carl Pavano, and Jaret Wright.

Let's just take Pavano, for example. The Yankees gave Pavano a four year deal for almost $40 million through 2008. Often injured, Pavano was a complete flop for the Yankees. Shoulder, back, elbow, ribs, you name it, Pavano had it. He made J.D. Drew look like a poster boy for BodyBeautiful.

Atlanta's John Schuerholtz, through an amazing run of 14 division titles, can also count the costly mistakes he's made on players that didn't pan out. Can you say John Rocker? Schuerholtz's dead body mistakes are buried beneath the peach trees that surround Turner Field. While trading three players for Tim Hudson was sweet cream for Schuerholtz, his acquisition of Lance Cormier is more like half-and-half. Win some lose some. But don't dwell on the negative. 

"But Cataldi says he was ambitious...and Cataldi is an honourable man."

What can be worse than making mistakes as a GM, is the fear to make a mistake. The next lefthander you take a chance on shouldn't be hindered by the mistake you made on Adam Eaton. Like a closer, one night you strike out the side: Save. Three nights later you make a good pitch but it goes yard: Blown Save. So what, who cares? Move on. You can't carry it with you. So let the bottom feeder Catali point his finger and condem Mr. Pat Gillick.

"I speak not to disprove what Cataldi spoke...but here I am to speak what I know."

As for me, I say to Mr. Gillick, are these your only mistakes? All right, way to go. Thank you for a great season.

Thank you for signing Aaron Rowand, and for Greg Dobbs, Jason Werth, J.D. Romero, Jamie Moyer, Kyle Lohse, and thank God you went out and got Tadahiito Iguchi to hold down second base while Chase mended.

Then I toast Mr. Gillick with the bubbly, that same bubbly enjoyed by players and fans alike, and I tell him to him go forth without fear or trepidation and build us a team for next year that will go beyond the good deeds of the ' 07 Phillies.

"Et tu, Cataldi?"

One of my senior advisors had some questions going into Saturday night's game, game three of the division series between the Phillies and Rockies. He wanted to know why Wes Helms started at third base in games one and two.

The Senior Advisor from the west said he understood that Helms had a decent average against game one starter Jeff Francis (however, if you look at this USA Today story on one scout's take on game one, you have to scroll way down to Best Matchup to see where the scout says Helms will have trouble with Francis).

But in game two, Helms made a mental error by not scoring from third base on an infield ground ball, and a bad defensive play that would have ended the inning before Charlie Manuel "brilliantly' pulled Kendrick. Then Kazuo Matsui's grand slam off Kyle Lohse pretty much put game two away.

But in the sixth Jose Mesa made damn sure it was and gave up three more.

Let the examinations begin.

My Senior Advisor isn't alone. 610 talk-radio was buzzing about both decisions on Thursday and Friday.

Trying to beat the Christmas rush, 610 morning motor-mouth Angelo Cataldi, who writes a column in the free commuter newspaper, the Metro, started in on Phils GM Pat Gillick last Tuesday. You can click on Gillick and read the column for yourself.

I'm not defending Charlie Manuel's decisions. Or Pat Gillick, for that matter. But as a fan I do have questions and I'm going to work on those questions for the next several weeks. Not that what I say will make any difference,  but it will for me.

My wife and I enjoyed the Phillies season very much. We went to 20 games, including the final division clincher--the best Phillies game since a 12 year old kid named Matt and his Dad drove through the pouring rain from State College to see Shilling shut out the Blue Jays at the Vet in game five--and my nephew and I stood in 'standing room only' in game two. It was a great season; I have two rally towels to prove it and I thank the Phillies organization for it. I wonder what these rally towels are going for on e-Bay?

But is Cataldi correct in saying that Pat Gillick is worthless? I mean, what's with Clay Condrey and Geoff Geary shuffling back and forth to moose country all season? Both players seem questionable major league pitchers.

And Jose Mesa? The Phillies signed Mesa on June 9th to return for $2.5 million--$26.5 short of what the Yankees paid Roger Clemens to return for--after Colorado declined a club option on Mesa for ' 07, and Detroit released him two months into the ' 07 season. But on the other hand, the Red Sox released J.C. Romero on June 19 and ten days later the Phillies purchased his minor league contract.  Be my guest and click on both Mesa and Romero and compare their numbers.  You can blame Gillick for one, then give him credit for the other.

The Phillies opening day payroll was $89,428,213, compared to the Rockies $54,424,000. Rockies manager Clint Hurdle opened the ' 07 season with a one year $800,000 contract, but in April got a two year extension. Charlie Manuel opened the season on the last year of a three year contract that paid him $800,000 in ' 07. Surely he will get an extension for at least ' 08 and maybe ' 09.

Here's something else interesting. The highest paid Phillie in ' 07 is Pat Burrell at $13 million, signed through 2008. The highest paid Rockie is Todd Helton at $16,600,000 per year, signed through 2011. MVP candidate Matt Holiday is on a one year $4.4 million contract while Jimmy Rollins is earning $7 million, signed through 2010 with a buyout in ' 11.

Holiday would certainly look better in red and white pinstripes than the black and purple he wore this year. 

Look, things could be worse. They could have given Rod Barajas a three or four year deal worth $11 million.

Let the examinations begin.

You mean some schools can separate out disruptive students?
 

Yesterday was St. Francis Day and I had the day off. So the wife said fix the toilet or else. Not wanting to know what "or else" meant, I drive to the hardware store at 17th and Ritner, get the parts for the toilet and get back into my truck.

My cell phone rings. Now, as nephews go, I've got great ones, on both sides of the family. This one nephew, the one that flies the big jumbo jets around, calls me from the ball park. "Hey Uncle Ron," he says, "I'm at Citizens Bank Park."

This is equivalent to calling a level-10 alcoholic in the second day of rehab and saying: "Why don't you come out to the parking lot, we've got a keg of Miller Lite here."

But knowing that I have domestic duties, I return home to fix the toilet. I'm in the bathroom with the lid off and parts all over the place and I start thinking: Ball game. Toilet. Ball game. Toilet. Ball game....

The subway was loaded with fans heading south for the Phillies-Rockies game. Getting on a crowded subway car with all kinds of people dressed in red, and without a ticket, is like going to a dance without a date. You are on your way, yes, but you're not sure what will happen when you get there. They are happy and I am not. Well, sort of not.

Once above ground there are opportunities with scalpers, but I have enough ball game experience to know not to buy a ticket from them. I envison myself standing at the turnstile: "Sorry, sir, this ticket is invalid." Meanwhile, the scalpers are headed to Pottstown for their  second beer run. I walk the thousand yards to the Park and there are hundreds--no thousands--of happy people all around me. Just one fan, I tell myself, just somebody, has an extra ticket to sell. But how do I know who?

Standing by the Park entrances, I make my move. Like jumping into a cold swimming pool, I go for it. I thrust my arm straight up with my index finger extended and yell, "Need one ticket, who's got one ticket to sell?" At first it was awkward, but heck, I'll never see these people again. After a few minutes, I got use to it and in a way it was slightly enjoyable.

 "One ticket, need one ticket. Who's got a ticket? One ticket here, who's got one ticket?"

  You would not believe the folks who came up to me with all kinds of tickets to sell, from $200 Diamond Club seats to the last row in the Harry the K bleachers. Of course, they were all trying to make big bucks. But this is one situation where time was on my side. The closer I got to game time, the cheaper the seats became. Finally, one lady approached me and said she had one standing room only ticket that she would let go if it would pay for her parking. I offered twenty bucks, she took it, and I was at the dance with a date. Once inside the Park, I used my cell phone and called my nephew. We met in front of Tony Lukes--he had a standing room only ticket, too--and we began to try various locations around the park.

We stood behind home plate. We stood in center, in left, upstairs, downstairs, in Ashburn Alley, near Harry the K's, back to center, then we moved over to right. We stood in places at the Park that I've never imagined existed. I learned one thing from this experience, people who buy standing room only tickets are real fans. They don't have fancy season ticket packages, 18 game plans, or an air conditioned suite or prime seats two rows behind the dugout. But they are there, cheering, slapping five, drinking beer, eating, and having fun.

We cheered the National Anthem. We saw the Bull throw out the first ball, and then we saw J-Roll lead off the Phillies first with a home run, and the crowd chanted M-V-P as he circled the bases. But by the 4th, after Colorado put up a four spot and led 6-3, to tell you the truth, I started thinking about the toilet, and the parts scattered around the bathroom floor.

So in the fifth, I waved goodbye to my nephew and headed for the subway. Got home, fixed the toilet, did the dishes, straightened up, and greeted my wife when she arrived home from work.

"How was your day, dear?" she said. "Fine," I replied, "just fine."

By the way, the Phillies lost 10-5, but you  know what? It didn't matter. I was there.

F  -  A  -  N  -  T  -  A  -  S  -  T  -  I  -  C

It was the greatest sporting event I have ever attended. Here are my top three:

1. With wife, Phillies win the NL East Division by  beating the Florida Marlins, 6-1, on September 30, 2007.

2. With son, Phillies win the fifth game of the World Series when Curt Shilling pitches a five hitter against the Toronto Blue Jays on October 21, 1993. Phils win, 2-0.

3. With brother, Pete Rose breaks Stan Musial's NL hit record of 3,361 hits at Veterans Stadium on August 10, 1981.

Before Jamie Moyer took the mound yesterday afternoon, the Florida Marlins jumped on Mets starter Tom Glavine for seven runs to set an electric atmosphere at Citizens Bank Park. We were hoarse by the fifth inning and our arms were tired from waving the towel.

Jimmy Rollins received a thunderous roar when he hit a two out triple in the sixth which set a franchise record of 20. It scored Chris Coste to put the Phillies up 5-1. Rollins became the first player in baseball history to have 200 hits, 20 doubles, 20 triples, 25 home runs and 25 stolen bases in a season.

J-Roll has clearly emerged as the leader of this team. If he is not the NL MVP, then the selection process is a fraud.

If you were not at the park yesterday, you missed the stunning rendition of God Bless America in the seventh inning by six year old Geoffrey Gallante. He played his trumpet while the capacity crowd sang along.

What a game, what a day. Afterward we went to the Vendemmia Festival and drank homemade wine, danced and celebrated the Phillies fantastic win. Now, if only I didn't have this headace this morning!!!!

             3 left.  

Phillies      87-72  

New York  87-72

"The Mets may be angels that spend all winter

Giving the homless blankets and dinner

Regular nobel peace prize winners..

But I really hate 'em, I'll think of a reason later**

Three teams tied for the Wild Card, one game behind San Diego: Phillies, Mets, and the Rockies.

• Tonight: Phillies vs Washington Nationals, Citizens Bank Park, 7:05
• Cole Hamels, 14-5, 3.54 vs Tim Redding, 3-5, 3.53

The Phillies celebrated "Reverse Night" last night, they had firewords at the beginning of the game instead of the end. Two hits, two erros, four runs in the first inning. Pat Burrell and Ryan Howard hit dingers and the Fightins' beat Atlanta, 6-4. Coupled with the downward spiral of the Mets, the Phillies are tied for first.

The Mets held a 7 game lead with 17 to play and are 4-10 in their last 14 games. They have lost four in a row.

"Inside their heads may lay all the answers

4 left.

• One game behind the Mets in the NL East
• One game behind San Diego in the NL Wild Card (but tied with Colorado, both teams a game out)
• Last night a 5-2 win over Atlanta
• Tonight, vs Atlanta, Kyle Kendrick vs John Smoltz

The Phillies will win the National League East because of two words: Charlie Manuel.

Take last night's game for example. After getting ripped by Atlanta Tuesday night 10-6, the Phillies came back last night and won 5-2.

The team looked relaxed, not uptight. Charlie doesn't panic. He doesn't make faces in the dugout when somebody screws up, i.e., Larry Bowa.

In fact, Charlie is the opposite of Larry Bowa, who will never win as a manager because he puts pressure on his players.

How many times have you seen Bowa, with arms crossed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head when a Phillie struck out, or made an error? You will never see Charlie Manuel do that. That kind of stuff is BS when you are the manager.

The Phillies love Manuel, especially their franchise player, Chase Utley. They respect him and they loved the way he stood up to 610 radio guy Howard Eskin. Sure, I've poked fun at him, but like the players, I respect him as a manager. I just think he needs to start an exercise program.

Besides, the Mets are imploding right before our eyes. Remember 1964? The Mets will remember 2007, the year they gave the NL East over to the Phillies.

We have tickets Sunday, the last game of the season. We also have tickets for the Vendemmia Festival in South Philly, from 2 until 6 p.m. Unless the game is changed to accommodate Sunday Night Baseball, it will begin at 1:30. Maybe, just maybe, we can do both.

You can bet that we'll be there Sunday to see the NL East winning Phillies.

6 left to play!

Here we are entering the final week of play:

• The Phillies are 85-71
• Two games behind the East leading Mets
• Dead Even with San Diego in the Wild Card
• The next three games against Atlanta
• Will face two tough pitchers in John Smoltz and Tim Hudson
• Atlanta has the edge, they are relaxed, nothing to lose
• The Phillies could be tight, they are so close they can taste it, but they must play well
• Jamie Moyer tonight vs Chuck James

For the Phillies to do well, the big guy at right, Ryan Howard, must cut down on his strike outs and drive the ball.

The skipper, Charlie Manuel, in the final year of his contract, has got to make important decisions under pressure. He's got to use his bench players better than he has in the last couple of games. Chris Coste can be a key player if he is used properly.

And what about the cagy, aging veteran Jamie Moyer? He turns 45 in November and works the plate like an artist recreating the Mona Lisa. First you see it now you don't. Teasing with the fast ball just off the plate. If he gets the calls he'll be tough, if not?

So fasten your seat belts and enjoy the ride for what could be the six most exciting games in Phillies history.

To keep score of  tonight's game, to to:

http://www.baseballscorecard.com/kscore.htm

Then download "The Scorecard."

Then click on "download page" in Getting A Scorecard

Then click on Excel

But set up the page in your computer to print on letter size paper, portrait.

Of all the decisions Pat Gillick made over the winter the acquisition of Jason Werth has to be up near the top. Werth can flat-out play, and last night his pinch hit three run home run in the seventh cut Washington's lead to 6-5. Chase Utley and J-Roll followed with clutch  hits to put the Phillies over the top, 7-6.

With nine left to play, every game is a must-win. With the Mets losing last night, the Phillies are a game and a half behind them in the NL East and two and a half behind San Diego in the Wild Card.

Let's hope Adam Eaton has five or six innings of shutout in him tonight. It seems if the Phillies can get to the sixth or seventh, they've got a shot with J.C. Romero, Tom  Gordon and Brett Myers, who picked up his 18th save last night.

It appears that Penn State might have it's first test of the season when the Nit's travel to the Big House tomorrow to face a 1-2 Michigan team.

Michigan Coach Lloyd Carr may need a win to hang on to his  job. You recall the Wolverines being embarrassed by Appalachian State, then knocked off by Oregon before beating the Irish, 38-0.

Teams like Michigan and Penn State fatten up the front of their schedules with weaklings to pave the way for a bowl invitation. Well, Michigan got 'licked' by one of those weaklings.

Tomorrow we'll see if Penn State is good, or have they fattened up by 'licking' the weaklings?

You know the Golden Boys of North Broad Street should be 1-2 but we won't go there. Let's see how well Coach prepared the Owls after they had a win snatched away from them last week at Connecticut. It must be frustrating to a coaching staff trying to revive a program without a pulse by being cheated by a bad call. Tomorrow's game against Bowling Green (last year's only win for the Owls) is on local television.

Last night an old friend offered me two tickets to the Penn State-Temple game in November so Denise and I will be there in our cherry and white. Everybody knows that Temple is going to upset Penn State, 24-21.

Just when I was saying Hollywood doesn't make good cowboy movies anymore, we saw 3:10 to Yuma. I never thought I'd say this but my favorite actor is an Englishman.  He was great in the Gladiator, A Beautiful Mind, and Master and Commander. Russell Crowe is the man. 

 3:10 to Yuma is a great  movie: "Kid, I have to be rotten as hell to ride with this gang." But why didn't he take the kid and go back to get the woman instead of getting on the train? We'll never know. Fear not, I didn't ruin it for you.

Tonight the Mechanicsburg Wildcats travel across the Susquehanna River to take on the Middletown Blue Raiders at Memorial Field. This is the 'Cats first league game of the season. Both teams are 2-1 so a  win will put the 'Cats in the playoff picture.  

Middletown is that bedroom community nestled in close to the Harrisburg Airport settled by German immigrants from the Black Forest and less than five miles from the nuclear power plant, Three Mile Island. As you may remember, Three Mile Island suffered a partial meltdown in 1979, causing Governor Dick Thornburgh to evaculate the area. Let's hope the  Blue Raiders experience a different kind of meltdown tonight. Kickoff is at 7. 

And oh yes the Eagles.

Let's face it...cancer, heart disease, diabetes, and stroke rates are rising faster than Pat  Burrell's batting average.

With 47 million Americans lacking health insurance, and millions more with only limited coverage, lifestyle disease is a serious subject.

When it comes to good health and looking fit, Phillies manager Charlie Manuel and Eagles coach Andy Reid leave a little to be desired.

This is surprising considering both teams employ exercise and fitness gurus. You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink... 

Besides risking high blood pressure and bad cholesterol, there is stress, and plenty of that comes with both jobs. During the televised Phillies games it's easy to see how stressed out Manuel gets especially when Adam Eaton pitches.

Stress? Who could have more stress than Andy Ried, with one son in jail and the other at home with a monitoring anklet bracelet? Then his team gets beat on opening day because he was unprepared, or at least it appeared that way. He put J.R. Reed (released this morning) out on the field in a key punt return situation, when Reed has never fielded an NFL punt in his life. What? He couldn't find Brian Westbrook at the time?

Stress can affect all of us in many different ways, from how we treat our family to the kinds of decisions we make in the work place.

It doesn't matter how important the job is, or how stressful, or how demanding: Daily exercise, not smoking, and good nutritional habits are essential, and will help us lead better lives. And...be able to make decisions in pressurized, stressful situations.

Head coaches included.

What does this photo?

And the next photo below...go ahead, scroll down, don't be lazy.

Have in common................................................................?????

The key to this question is inept. All winter, Phillies brass, namely Pat Gillick, did little if nothing to shore up a bull pen with a closer pushing 40. Once the season began, Gillick and company did lots of patch work. That patch work cost the Phillies many games and perhaps a playoff spot.

In yesterday's Eagles-Packers game an inept Eagles special teams unit threw the game away. In the photo left, inexperienced punt return 'specialist' J.R. Reed fumbles with a minute to play in the game setting up rookie Mason Crosby's 43 yard field goal and handing the Packers the game, 16-13.

Donovan McNabb was average at best (coming off major knee surgery), Brian Westbrook got his 20 carries but gained just 85 yards. The Birds' defense played well.

Overall, the team looked sloppy and unprepared, certainly not an 'Andy Reid looking team:' In the first seven minutes of the game, two Eagles holding pentalities and an Eagles personal foul. Combined with the pre-season losses, it appears something is not right with the Eagles. Could it be the Coach's family problems? Who could blame him if it is? 

Geoff Geary peeked in and saw the Phillies manager sipping a Diet Coke. He was listening to 'Ole Tyme Country' on the computer radio that Jose Mesa hooked up for him.

In a grey t-shirt and his Phillies pin-stripe baseball pants, white socks and sandals, he was sitting back in his chair, thinking it won't be long before he and Thome are casting a couple of blue duns out over the Jackson River.

Or hitting out of the back lip of a bunker at the fifth hole at Vista Links, watching it roll off the angle down a slopping green and into the cup for a birdie.

'Yea,' he thought, clasping his hands behind his head, 'get out of these pinstripes and into some good fishin' clothes...hittin' them fairways, git away from those tom-fool reporters asking stupid questions.' On the computer radio, Dolly Parton was signing something about two doors down...

"Two doors down...they were drinkin' and havin' a party...two doors down they were..."

Charlie didn't like the rap that Jimmy and Flash played in the locker room. "I can't see how they call that stuff music, man," he would say, "sounds to me like somebody got somthin' stuck in their throat."

Geary rapped on the door. "Skip? Skip? You in there," he said.

"Who's there?" Manuel said, "balls in a chicken coop, I can't get away from these cry babies, no how. What you want, Geary?"

Charlie cut in: "What the...what's goin' on here? I'm not fallin' for this again. You boys recordin' me again? Victorino, Rowand, you out there recordin' this?"

"No Skip," Geary stammered, "nobody's out there. This ain't no joke. It's me, Geoff, wantin' to talk with you. Taking people to Ottawa to hunt moose, 'cept me and Condrey, we ain't never hunted before."

"And you want me to.....?" Manuel asked.

"Well Skip, Condrey and me, we know you hunted a lot, being the outdoorsman you are, so we thought you could teach us some things about hunting. Whatdaya think, Skip?"

Charlie sat back in his chair and rubbed the stubble on his chin. He wet his lips and his eyes danced, moving around like he was trying to make a decision to bunt, or let Nunez hit away.

"Well hell, Geary," he said, "I got a good moose huntin' story that will surely help you and Condrey. Want to hear it?" Geary shook his head yes. "Well, you know how funny Thome approaches the batters box, kind of walks bow legged, and the way he points his bat out toward center field, don't you? Good, cause there's a reason he does that."

"Close that door, son, and pull your chair up here. You see, Thome and me we been huntin' together for years. We'd get flown in to the back country about 160 miles north of Ottawa, long before you and Condrey started gettin' sent up there.

"But we hadn't had much luck gettin' the moose to come in close enough to get off a shot. So one day, Somoarro, a half Eskimo half Cherokee injun guide, said he had a moose costume that he used several times to call in big moose. You see, son, the moose costume was of a female, a darn nice lookin' female in moose lookin' terms, if you git my drift.

"Now, Somoarro had some moose smellin' stuff and a genuine moose call and he told us to go to the backside of the mountain at dawn, spread around some of the smellin' stuff, and for both of us to git in the moose costume.

 "Let me tell you, it stunk in there like an outhouse that ain't been ventilated. Son, it stunk worse than a dumpster behind the Outback Steakhouse that the substitute driver forgot for six months.

"So we make our way through the woods, and we settle on a nice little clearing at the edge of the Big Riff. It took us about a half hour to get into that putrid smellin' moose costume. Thome was in the back working the Moose's butt and I was in the front working the head and shoulders.

"Well, Jimmy lets go with a couple of moose calls: Wooooeeee, woooooeee. Off in the distance I hear a bull answering and I tell Jimmy to get ready. Well let me tell you, I see this bull comin' faster than the Norfork Southern comin' through the Flat Rock Tunnel 30 minutes behind schedule.

"So I yell back, 'Jimbo, he's comin' a hellin,' get that 30 ought six ready to go.' And Jimmy yells back to me, 'Charlie, I through you had the ought 6. And I peek through the little moose eye hole and I see them two ought 6's leanin' up against a tall oak lookin' prettier than than if they was on the cover of Gun & Ammo Magazine.

"Now this bull moose gets within 15 yards of us and he slams on the brakes. And he's givin' us a once over makin' sure he ain't fallin into no trap.  All of a sudden, I see him start smilin' ear to ear and he let's out a howl that would have woke the dead in the Buena Vista cementary. And he's sniffin' the air and snffin' the ground especially where we spread that smellin' stuff.

Now Geary, who's looking like Casper the ghost meeting Frankinstein, says, "What did ya do, Skip?"

"So I see this bull moose smilin' like he was and sniffin' the ground, and I yell back to Thome, 'Hey Jimbo, you got that smellin' stuff back there? And he hollers back yes he does. So I yell, 'what's it say on the cover?' And he yells back, 'it says Moose French Perfume.'

"All of a sudden, this big bull moose starts swingin' around behind us. So me, being in the front with the head, I start eatin' some dandelions and twigs and I yell back at Thome, 'Jimbo, if you want to make spring training next year, you better brace yourself real quick like.'"

With that, Geary gets up and runs out the door faster than Carl Lewis doing the 100 in Seoul. And he yells back, "Condrey and me ain't interested in moose huntin.'"

And Charlie? He laughs so hard he almost busted the stitches the good doctors in Atlanta used to sew up his hernia in between two night games.

And Geary and Condrey? Well, they forgot about moose huntin' real fast, and started looking for other business opportunities, especially in the Allentown area.

Michael Vick said he's found God. So I Googled God to see what he might have found and I came up with all sorts of photographs. I like this one the best.

Michael is this what you found?

Speaking of God, if you saw that ball rolling down the line last night in the tenth with three Mets standing there watching it, and with Victorino rounding third and heading home, now that's God.

That was divine intervention, no doubt about it.

I'm going to ask the Sisters of St. Francis to pray for the Phillies. Hey Michael, that's God.

Last night the law firm of Geary, Romero and Myers combined for four and a third innings to shut down the Mets.

Michael, that's God.

Former Temple coach Wayne Hardin has taken it upon himself to fill the Linc for Temple's opening game Friday night. He must be doing okay because I can't get tickets.

Rumor has it that if Hardin does fill the Linc, the University will give him an office in Sullivan...and get this, Peter Liacouras will report to  him. If it happens, that is definitely the workings of God.

 The Washington Redskins, the Eagles home opponent on September 17, cut Todd Pinkston. Now that's HUGH becaue it means that both Pinkston and Jeremiah Trotter are unemployed. It will be interesting to see if the two former Birds find a team. Did I hear you thinking 'who cares?'

One team to  keep an  eye on in Pennsylvania high school football this year is Mechanicsburg High School.  The Wildcats open play against Carlisle Friday  night and I understand there is a lot of excitement about the season. Good luck Wildcats. Go all the way to States.

• The best? He'll be the best all time Phillie player ever. Better than Schmidt, better than Ashburn, better than Ennis, better than Daulton, and better than Allen.

• He hits for average.
  

• He scores runs.
  

• He hits home runs.
  

• His on base percentage is up there with Allen or Callison or Dalton.
  

• He strikes out, sure, but compare his strike outs to Schmidt, Luzinski, Ennis, or whomever. It doesn't matter.
  

He's been out since July 26 after getting hit by Nationals' left hander rookie John Lannan. Yet, he is still among the National League leaders in numerous categories:

• Seventh in RBIs with 79
• Eighth in runs scored, 82
• Second in doubles, 41
• Fifth in slugging %, .581
• Fifth in on base %, .414

The amazing Mr. Utley. If he doesn't get back soon, it will get late early for the Phillies.

With the inept middle relievers, and a spotty rotation, the Fightin's can't afford to lose any more ground on the Mets.

Plus, with the Law Firm of Coundrey, Mesa, Alfonesca, and Romero, it's personal injury and wrongful death after the starter comes out before the eighth.

Zagurski in now on the shelf, and Hernandez and Castro are back from Moose Country and report that Geary is doing fine up there. We wish him the best, and hope that his visit to Moose Country is a long one.

Cole Hammels has a strained elbow, whereas Myers and Garcia had strained shoulders. All of these strains use to be called "sore arms." Such as, Madson is on the shelf with a sore arm. Okay, we understand that and hope that he gets the hell back soon...so the Law Firm is not overworked.

It's gettin' late early. 

It's a gift of a lifetime, but you've got to do it.
Been married 35 years, been all through it
Doesn't matter the cost, or the time it takes
The Anniversary Gift...for her sake

Three wonderful kids and a gorgeous wife
Still together...in the prime of our life
The Anniversary Gift, it has to be unique
Cause' together we've climbed to the mountain peak

Our wedding day was long ago
Since then together, through rain and snow
Even today through a climate shift...
So it has to be special...this Anniversary Gift

What does one do to make it special and all?
How does one thank her, for walking thru walls?
How does one approach, such a high degree?
How does one thank her...shamelessly?

It takes thought and study in the highest form
It takes concentration to weather this storm
What else can a man do when she has given her all?
What gift to give...she made life a ball!

For The Anniversary Gift must be the one
To thank her for the earth, moon and the sun
I gave it more thought than Plato or Freud
For a lifetime of happiness I certainly enjoyed

Was it diamonds and pearls for this special gift?
Or around the world on a special trip?
Was it a vacation in France or rain in Spain?
Or how about a trip on a long distant train?

Then it hit me...like a shot in the dark
How could I not think of providing this spark?
I am so dumb, its way beyond pity
Why had I not thought of a trip to Steel City?

First with USAirways was my number one act
Then call the Hilton for a reservation pact
Then search for tickets for this special gift
Oh what thoughts I'd given this trip

Behind third base was the perfect spot
What a perfect place for us to squat
A trip to Pittsburgh to see our team play
The chance of a lifetime to see Jason Bay

 
To be with Wheels and Charlie and the boys
With a beer in hand and making some noise
To celebrate the years of bliss and grace
By seeing the Phillies in a pennant race

With Eaton there Friday to turn things around
And she and I there, what better background?
She'll be so happy she'll give me a big kiss
When I give her at last this Anniversary gift.

Jill Porter had an interesting column in today's Philadelphia Daily News. I like Ms. Porter. She is a good journalist who looks for stories and tells it like it is. Ms. Porter is not a Phillies basher.

Under the headline of:"Attention, alleged wife-beaters: Phils want you,"Porter jumps on the Phillies brass for signing Julio Mateo after the team went through the Bret Myers fiasco. I felt the same way when I first heard the news. The key word: Insensitive at best. Out of touch at worst.

You remember the Myers fiasco, don't you? After he slapped his wife on a Boston street, he started for the Phillies the next day. 

She makes comparisons between Mateo's comments about the 'incident' and Myers' comments.  They are eeirly similar: "I'm not guilty of anything," he said. Like kids in school: "I didn't do nothin'"

The namby-pamby liberals like domestic violence coalition's Susan Kelly-Dreiss slammed the Phillies for trading for someone accused of wife-beating. Jill Porter isn't namby-pamby. Said Porter, the Phillies priority? "Who cares about battering when a pitcher can handle batters?"

I don't always agree with her, but on this one I do. "It's a disgrace that demeans the game and is a self-incficted wound to a team that can ill afford another injury," she wrote.

Another injury? Ms. Porter wasn't talking about a broken hand and a pulled calf muscle. 

The Phillies will get some flak for this one.

The made a deadline trade for Mariners pitcher Julio Mateo to bolster their bullpen and possible rotation, giving up Jesus Merchan, a .330 hitter at Double A Reading. But it wasn't the player they gave up that will cause a stir, it was the player they received.

First, the Phillies got bad press for pitching Bret Myers the day after he slugged his wife on a Boston street, now they trade for a guy who also bopped his wife. Birds of a feather... How insensitive is this to baseball fans who think that hitting a woman is inexcusable?  

Mateo, who was 1-0 with a 3.75 ERA in nine appearances this season, will be assigned to Triple-A Ottawa, though he could end up with the Phillies quickly.

It was the club's fourth trade since Friday. The Phillies entered the day trailing the NL East-leading New York Mets by three games.

Mateo, who turns 30 on Thursday, is 18-12 with two saves and a 3.68 ERA in 219 games over six seasons in Seattle. He had an 0.79 ERA in 24 games at Triple-A Tacoma, allowing just three earned runs in 34 1-3 innings. Opponents batted just .200 against him.

Mateo missed most of spring training last season when he returned to the Dominican Republic following the death of his brother in an automobile accident. He came back and was 9-4 with a 4.19 ERA in 48 games. But, in late August a weight plate fell onto his left hand and broke it. He missed the rest of the season.

He pitched well for Seattle the first month before he had more troubles. Mateo was arrested May 5 in New York on charges of assaulting his wife. He reportedly hit wife Aurea in the eye, choked her and bit her lip, opening a wound that required stitches, after she told him she wanted out of the marriage. He faces a June 15 court date, but the Mariners didn't wait to take action. The club immediately demoted him to Tripl-A and then suspended him for 10 days without pay. He underwent counseling before returning to the mound.

 We'll see how much negative publicity the team gets for going after a guy who was arrested for spousal abuse.

A friend of mine, who's opinion I respect a great deal, pointed something out to me recently. He said I am making fun of the Phillies President without really knowing him. After I thought about it, I came to the conclusion that he is right.

It's true, I don't know the Phillies President. But it's also true, that I think he is doing a great job with the Phillies. If you listen to Cataldi and Erskin, you would think that Dave Montgomery is an idiot. Well, I don't think that.

I don't think he's a cheapskate, either. So why do I portray that way in my postings? Good question, and it took my friend's email to make me see that.

 Dave Montgomery has brought many high priced players to Philly, from Jim Thome to Freddie Garcia. Have they all turned out to be winners? No. But do you think the other teams like the Mets, Atlanta, and the Yankees are mistake free? Not on your life.

My wife and I attend about 20 Phillies home games a season and we are going to Pittsburgh to see them play the Pirates. The team hustles, is exciting, and is a good blend of young and old players. Each night, it seems, a different player makes a major contribution.  With all of their injuries, they are still within shouting distance to the Mets and Braves. I think they will be in first place by October.

The Phillies field a good team. The kind of team I like to follow, day in and day out. So you've got to give credit where credit is due: I thank Dave Montgomery for that.

In my opinion, Cataldi and Erskin are the idots, not Dave Montgomery. Sure, I listen to them. Most of what they say is BS, and they have callers who love calling in and kissing their butts. They grow their list of listeners by making fun of Montgomery and others. I think true baseball fans don't give them much credence.

So that's how I really feel. From now on, I'll write that way, too. 

Dawn is taking over the city with an orange haze in the east. The city's pollution is not yet visible, but if you stand still long enough and breathe-in, you can fill your lungs with that hydrogen fluoride Sunoco uses to produce high octane gas at its Marcus Hook plant on the Delaware River.

‘Mmmmmmmm...wake up and smell those roses.'

Eastbound traffic is starting to back up at the Conshohocken curve down to Girard Avenue. There is a disabled vehicle in the southbound lane on I-95 that will, before mid-morning, have cars in four southbound lanes creeping and crawling like cheetahs hunting buffalo in the tall African grass.

And its been at least 40 minutes since listeners tuned to 610 radio heard Angelo's annoying signature greeting, "Gooooood Mornnnnnning," just before he and his callers commence to making kindling out of the likes of David Wharton, Geoff Geary and Pat the Bat. It's the first tandem of the CIA.

"Go ahead, you're on 610 radio."

"Hey Ange, it's me, The Boomer."

"Yo Boom, what's up buddy? How they hangin?"

"Ange, I want to talk about that bum Pat-thetic. What a bum that guy is."

"You can say that again, Boom, what's on your mind this morning, pal?"

"Ange, that bum Pat-thetic, he wouldn't know a ball player if he walks into him, know what I mean? Know what I'm sayin'? Givin' that bum Garcia $10 million. If he give it to me, I'm down the shore for the summer, Ange."

"I'm with you on that one, Boomer, all the way, pal. Go ahead Boom, let's hear what you've got to say."

"Well, I'm thinking, Ange. Let's say Pat-thetic's walkin' down Market Street near the Reading Terminal, and Babe Ruth walks out of one of them stores? And bumps into him? I think Pat-thetic would say, ‘Hey fatso, watch where the hell you walkin'.'

I think he would say that, know what I mean, Ange?"

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, yea, Boomer, I know exactly what you mean.

"Thanks for the call, Go ahead, you're on 610 radio."

  "Ange, how ya doing this morning?...I want to talk about them bums runnin' the Phillies."
On this morning, the CIA, (Cataldi & Iskin on the Airways) were hammering Phillies President, David Wharton. It was hit ‘em high, hit ‘em low. Cataldi in the morning, from 6 a.m., then Howard takes over in late afternoon, and he hammers him some more.

For David, it's been a tough week.

"Ange," did you hear what the Phillies president said the other day, about the Sixers and the Flyers?"

"You better believe I did," Cataldi screems into the mike. "It's a disgrace. A total disgrace. An embarrassment to the city. He said ‘if we were the Sixers or the Flyers, we'd be in the playoffs for the past six years."

  "Can you believe that?" Cataldi continued. "What's this guy got for brains, mush? A total disgrace."

Then Howard takes over at four.

"Listen nitwit," Irskin hollers at a caller who had the steel ones to say that David Wharton has done some good as Phillies President, "if you knew anything about anything, you'd know that David Wharton is an idiot. He built a house without any doors or windows, can't you see that, genius?

"I mean what's wrong with you? Are you an idiot or something? He says ‘if the Phillies were the Flyers or Sixers they'd be in the playoffs the last six years,' how stupid is that? Goodbye, bird brain."

And with that, Irskin hangs up on him.

"Go ahead, you're on 610, but don't go callin' me to say something good about David Wharton because off you go, you're so stupid..."

  "Hey Howard," the next caller says, "you're the King, man. You are so right about David Wharton..."

On and on they go. This week, David Wharton can't catch a break.

He sits at his desk inside the Phillies complex, dabbing his nose with a hankie. ‘How can they say those things about me,' he thinks.

Then he picks up the phone.

"Get me Wheels right away."

Next: Wheels Saves David Wharton

  David Wharton was sound asleep in his Motel 6 room just outside of San Francisco. The Phillies President and finance graduate of the great Pennsylvania College was on a mission to scout the best players in the game at AT&T Park. He figured maybe one of them held the key to the Phillies success.

    It was half time in the long drawn out baseball season and the Fightin's were dangerously close to their 10,000th loss. While some of the players were either hitting 550 foot dingers off plump baseballs thrown at whiffle ball speed, or resting at the Shore like LA, boring even the charcoal he was fixing, or, like Geoff Geary, taking time out to smell the roses in moose country in the north, when they finally bloom in September.

    But David Wharton was dreaming.

    He was dreaming about the time his old pal in the sky, the Pope himself, the magnificent architect of the 1980 World Champions: One day long ago, David and the Pope were out fishing in the Pope's Bass Killer, G-7.

    David said to the Pope: "Listen Pope, I wonder if they have baseball in heaven?"

    "Sure they do," said the Pope, as he flipped his junebug, plastic night crawler out over some 50 feet of crystal clear Florida lake water.

    "Hell," the Pope said, "it's a lot tougher up there because you can't argue close calls with the umpire."

    "Why is that, Pope?" David asked, "why can't you argue?"

    The Pope bellowed out his patented laugh, which was more like a witch's crackle, and said, "because, Davie, the damn ump is God, ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha."

    It wasn't long after that when the good Pope--perhaps the greatest baseball mind the Phillies have had since Mamie Van Doren sat along the third base line at old Connie Mack flashing signals to her beau, the Bo--pulled out a largemouth that was fightin' like the Tugger at 3 a'.m., gettin' flagged at the Doll House in downtown Tampa.

    "Speaking of God," the Pope told David, "you know what I'm a gone-a do, Davie? When I get up there first, I'll be sure to let you know what kind of baseball they have there."

    "But Pope," David said, "how you going to do that?"

    "You let me worry about that son," said the Pope, "meanwhile, you keep learnin' baseball and maybe when you grow up you can run your own club." And with that, the Pope laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the G-7.

    And in the dream, the one David Wharton was having at the Motel 6, a flash of light bolted from the motel ceiling, smoky and mysterious like. 

    "David," the Pope bellowed. "You got to get off your keister and so somthin' to fix them Phillies, dammit. Them boys are closer than a tick on a dog's ass."

    David was sweating profusely and mumbling in his sleep.

    "Pope," he cried out, "what can I do? Tell me what can I do?"

    "Get ahold of yourself, man," the Pope boomed. "The people of the city are countin' on you. Best damn fans in the world, I'll tell you. Give that Gillick a kick in the tooshie  and tell him to get on the phone."

    "Okay, Pope," David said, "okay, I will."

    "Tell him to get the list of free agents. Them owners are greedier than George Bush at a Texas corn roast. They'll trade a 20 game winner for a one-legged hot dog vender if they think they'll save a quarter."

    "Tell Gillick if he doesn't trade for a couple of free agents, he'll be cleanin' every stinkin' comfort station and portable toilet in Ottawa that ain't got Geoff Geary sittin' in it readin' the Sportin' News. You listin' to me, Davie?"

    "Oh yes, Pope, oh yes."

    "Tell Gillick to tell that yahoo manager you got stinkin' up the place, that if he ain't got the boys in first by the Eagles trainin' camp, he'll back in Chicago washin' Thome's filthy underwear and shinin' his spikes. You got that, Davie?"

    "Yes, sir, yes I do." 

    "Oh Davie, there is baseball up here. But I got some good news and bad news about that. The good news is all the old players are up here havin' a hell of a time, playin' on sparkling diamonds in front of huge crowds that never boo, like they do in Philly. We got the Babe here and all them stinkin' Yankees; and Konstanty is striking them all the hell out."

    "Great, Pope," David said, "but what's the bad news?"

    "The bad news Davie, is that you are scheduled to pitch next Thrusday. Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha...ah, ha, ha, ha, ha...ah, ha, ha, ha..." 

     Now that we have two weeks off from following the Fightins'--the All Star break, then a west coast road trip--it's time to speculate about who is the best Phillie player, ever. Is it Dick Allen, Richie Ashbun, Mike Schmidt, or will it be Chase Utley?

     Let's go to the stats, then. The first year of each player has been eliminated to make it easier. All stats accumulated are for the first four years, with Utley's  prorated  through the end of this year, because it's Utley's fourth year. It's easy to do because Chase will get his numbers. Okay,  here we go.

At Bats: Ashburn, 2512; Allen, 2238; Utley 2,104; and Schmidt, 1,657; 

Base On Balls:  Schmidt, 369; Allen, 284; Ashburn, 246, and Utley, 212

Home runs: Schmidt, 130; Allen 112; Utley 103, and Ashburn, 8.

Strike outs: Schmidt, 603; Allen 541; Utley 406, and Ashburn 137.

RBI’s: Schmidt, 370; Utley, 364; Allen 363 and Ashburn 143..

On Base Percentage: Allen, .389; Ashburn, 368; Schmidt, .366; and Utley, .363.

Batting Average:Allen .311; Ashburn, 303; Utley, .294; and Schmidt, .247.

Hits: Ashburn, 762, Allen, 696; Utley, 637; and Schmidt, 525.

Slugging Percentage: Allen, .562; Utley, .527; and Schmidt, .492; and Ashburn 384.

     Pat Gillick didn't take Amtrak to New York this time to see Madame Rue. Instead, weary of failing again, like the last time (type in  Madame Rue  in the  Search This Blog  slot and hit search, then click on the blue title:"Curse of the Stingy Paper Promise,"and read about Gillick's last meeting with the ball that sees). Gillick decided to change his pattern of behavior--and his luck--and drive to the Big Apple.

     He parked in the Hilton garage at $25 bucks an hour, and took the C train south toward Greenwich Village.  Coming above ground, he walked south again, just like the last time, and turned right onto King Street, then climbed the five or six concrete steps and knocked on the door. The small metal plate opened and shut quickly, and the door opened.

     "Ah Patty," Madame Rue said, "how good to see you. Did they not fire you this time?"

     "Oh no," Gillick told her. "No, not at all. Everything is still good."

     "Patty," Madame Rue said, "You can't fool the ball that sees. I know in the place where you keep the bull, great trouble has fallen upon you. Men with sticks have hit and hit until the score has fallen against you. You keep sending them to where they hunt the moose in the north country and it doesn't help, does it, Patty? It's good you came to see mama."

    "Mama helped you with your last two teams where the birds fly. You beat down the wild thing in the last bracket of the world game...but Patty, you haven't been back to the world game since, because why?"

    "Well, Madame Rue, I just haven't had the luck..."

    "Ah but Patty," Madame Rue said, "it's not luck. Your mama will get you back to the world game. Now sit. Let's look into the ball that sees and discover where we go from here."

    "Ah, Patty, you made bad choices. Choices where you didn't check with your mama, like the catcher who fears the slam. The third baseman you signed who can't hit long with the stick. And Patty, I told you to get rid of the Pretty Boy with eyes that look upward when the stick misses. I told you last year, but you haven't done so. Why Patty, why?"

    "Madame Rue," Gillick said, "he has a no trade clause. I can't just get rid of him."

    "But Patty, if you would have come to mama, we could have sprinkled on the special powder and he, the Pretty Boy who looks upward and makes many people do low noises with their throats, would have asked to go to the team by the Tampa Bay as a no-field hitter. Why didn't you come to mama about that, my son?"

    "I'm sorry Madame Rue, I really am. I'm in trouble now, what can I do to get out of trouble?"

    "Okay Patty, take it easy," Madame Rue said, as she placed her hand over his. "Mama is here to help you now. Mama will get you back into the world game."

    And with that, Madame Rue reached into her magic purse, the one with many sparkling diamonds, and pulled out a sheet of paper.

    "Patty," she said, "here is the list. You must study and study this list and think about who you can pick from it, that will quiet the long sticks of men from New York and Atlanta."

    "Wha...what is it Madame Rue? What is this list?" Gillick said, peering over his glasses.

    "Patty," she said, "it's the list of No Tomorrows. It's the list of unloyal men who will jump to where the greener grass is for the goat on the season next. But you have to study this list and pick the ones who will silence the big sticks. Only a few on this list will take you to the world game again, Patty."

    "Don't worry about where you keep the bull, my dear," Madame Rue told him. "The Young One with the weak shoulder and strong arm will return soon, along with the Old One who has still some very good strikes left this one last year. They will combine to keep you strong in the bull area."

    Madame Rue reached into a small cup on the table next to the ball that sees, and sprinkled on the list some white-looking dust. It made a smoky effect.

    "From this list, Patty, if you make the right choices, will take you back to the world game where once again much liquid will fall from the sky and you will ride on a great wide platform down a Broad Street with little white specs floating in the air, and children calling out your name."

    "Patty, only a select few will take you there from the list of  No Tomorrows." 

    "Oh Madame Rue," Gillick said, "oh how I want to experience that again.  But what names shall I pick?"

    "I have sprinkled the dust, Patty. Go home to the City of Brother loving Brother, and make your choices wisely. Greedy men who pull strings will want to give them up to you before they flee when the ball becomes pig and the field long.One or two will take you for a ride down that Broad Street.

    With that, Madame Rue handed Pat Gillick a list of next year's free agent pitchers. Gillick took the list, and on the way home, called David Wharton on his cell phone and asked for a special meeting to pick from the list of No Tomorrows. 

    Here is the list Madame Rue gave Patty (their age in brackets): 

Carlos Zambrano (27); Curt Schilling (41); Jason Jennings (29); Kenny Rogers (43); Mark Buehrle (29); Bartolo Colon (35); Joe Kennedy (29); Tomo Ohka (32); John Thomson (34); Kip Wells (31); Wade Miller (31); Livan Hernandez (33)*; Randy Wolf (31) - $9MM club option for '08; Paul Byrd (37) - $8MM club option for '08; Jeff Weaver (31); Tom Glavine (42) - $9MM player option for '08; Kris Benson (33) - $7.5MM club option for '08; Jaret Wright (32): David Wells (45): Eric Milton (32): Kyle Lohse (29); Matt Clement (33); Rodrigo Lopez (32); Josh Fogg (31); Byung-Hyun Kim (29); Odalis Perez (31) - $9MM club option for '08; Brett Tomko (35) - $4.5MM mutual option for '08 You can see Ron's book at: http://www.ourcitythebook.com/

  Uncle Charlie had his arms up above his head and his fingers through the wire mesh screen of the dugout, watching the Phillies swap runs with the world champs. The Redbirds jumped all over starter Jamie Moyer, scoring four runs in the first inning and six more in the second.

    But the Phillies bats were hot, too. Ryan Howard hit a three run dinger in the first and Chase follow with a solo moon shot, clearing the Cardinals scoreboard.

            By the time Uncle Charlie got through three pitchers from the Phillies beleaguered bullpen in the sixth, the score was 10-9, St. Louis.

            "We got to do better from da mound," Manuel thought to himself. "I'm so tired of getting' our butts kicked because we ain't got any roosters in the damn hen house who can throw worth a tin can."

            He started to pace back and forth, back and forth, in front of the extra men and pitchers sitting on top of the bench rail. Jimmy gave him a strange look that said "go ahead and quit Charlie, I'll take over from here."

            Charlie was flustered to say the least.

            "Pat-thetic ain't given' us nottin.," he said in a low voice, barely audible to anyone in the hot visitors dugout. "I ask for this, I ask for that, and what do I get? Some scatter brain hogwash idea of our pitchers using both arms to throw the dang ball. Hell, they can't throw with their pitching arm, how the hell they suppose to throw with their other arm. Don't make no sense to me."

            Indeed, Uncle Charlie was talking to himself.

            He told Dubee to get Mesa up.

            "Got-damn Geary is gettin' butt whipped again," Charlie said to no one in particular. "I got ulcers, I got hair fallin' the hell out, I got ingrown toenails, and I ain't dumped a good one in a week, I'm so backed up."

            "Get that dang-gum Mesa up and let's see if he can get us a couple a outs here and we can score some more runs and git out a Dodge."

            "Ask for a god damn relief pitcher and get a bunch a bummed-out inmates from a dad-gum retirement home who can't git their sister out even if she had cataracts and hemorrhoids at the same time."

            "Come on GG," Charlie yelled from the dugout, "we got to git winnin.' We got to stop throwin' the damn thing where they can see it bigger than a got-damn mellon in a Georgia bull field. I'll have that demon-like sons a bitch Eskin on my tail before the dad-gum plane crosses over 291in Essingtin."

            Then Albert Pujols lines a rope that froze Pat Burrell like ole Stonewall himself in a North Georgia wax museum with the air condition turned up double digits. While the ball rolled around in the corner, Albert jogged into third like he was a few seconds late for the A-bus. Charlie yelled out at Burrell.

            "God dang it Pat, you ain't chasin' no damn cutie ball, man (southern speak for whiffle ball), you got to go git it ‘fore it wears its damn self out."

            "Charlie," bench coach Jimmy Williams yelled from the opposite corner of the dugout. You see Charlie was still puttin' on that underarm stuff that he bought in an LA boutique the last time they were chasin' the Dodgers. Charlie didn't know he was in the gay part of town and what he bought was the stuff transvestites wear when they go huntin' turkey on Santa Monica Boulevard.

            "You want me to get Mesa up?"

            Then Charlie remembered the letter he got from the guy upstate coaching a Little League team loaded with girls who read  Little Womenwhile they was warmin' up and exchangin' glances with the hunky catcher on the other side...and how he screwed things up with a switch pitcher. This coach had everybody so shook up his team won more damn games than it lost, even with all the girls playin' and readin;' so he was giving Uncle Charlie some pointers.

            Charlie took a few steps into the tunnel and pulled the letter out of his briefcase, and scanned it.

            "Jesus in a drainfield," Charlie mumbled to himself, "I'll try anything to git that Eskin the hell off my ass." And with that he threw the paper on the tunnel floor and headed out of the dugout to the mound walkin' faster than Bill Clinton headed to a New Orleans whore house near closin' time.

            "Gimme that dang-gum ball," he said to Geary. With that Geary plopped the ball into Charlie's hand and started to walk toward the dugout.

            "Hey, you ain't goin' no place, did I tell you to go to any place?" he said to Geary.

            Geary stopped and turned to his manager.

            "I thought you were taking me out," Geary said.

            "Git the hell back here and take the ball like a man, son," Charlie said.

            Confused, Geary walked back onto the mound.

            "Now this is what I want you to do boy," Charlie said to Geary. "I want you to put that dang glove on the other hand, and throw the ball with your left hand. You got that?"

            "Whaa...what the hell are you talking about Skip, I can't throw left handed," Geary said."

            "You ain't got no pot to piss in either, boy," Charlie told him, "I'm tellin' you to throw with that got-damn left arm or I'm going to pry it up so far into your poop scoop that even the good Lord ain't goin' see it from his high perch in heaven. Now you getting' my drift, son?"

            Charlie's face was about six inches from Geary's and redder than an Alabama beet left in the field too long.

            Now Charlie, walkin' back to the dugout, yelled to the home plate ump that Geary needed his normal warm-up pitches, and the ump, already boiling over from the hot steam air that rises from the mighty Mississippi and the Great Missouri, turning ole St. Louie into a city-wide outdoor sauna, whipped off his mask and hollered at Charlie that if he ain't changin' pitchers, then nobody gets no warm-up time.

            But Charlie got in his face and screamed that he's switch pitchin,' and if Geary don't git no warm-up time, then this here umpire crew will deal with the Boss up in the big city who just signed a switch pitcher out of Creighton University. So the umps had an infield pow-wow and decided that screwin' Uncle Charlie was one thing, but messin' with the Boss was another, and let Geary have his warm-ups.

            Then Scottie Rolen steps in lookin' meaner than a bull that just go neutered and circumcised at the same time and let out in a Tennessee field with half a dozen cows standin' around grinnin' from ear to ear.

            The first pitch Geary throws left handed has the radar gun guys behind the plate smackin' their guns against their fists cause' the pitch didn't ever register, and Rolen laughs and squirts out a stream of tobacco juice longer than an Amtrak train with sleeper cars headed to Miami, and steps back in doing that little shuffle he does with his butt and paws at the home plate dirt with his right toe.

            Now Geary, who was getting' shelled all year throwing right handed, figured if he gets shelled switch pitchin,' then it ain't his fault, but the fault of one David Wharton, who earned his degree at the great Pennsylvania college in finance, not pitchin.'

            But low and behold, Geary does a bang-up job. Rolin and company are so perplexed at Geary switch pitchin,' that they can't hit their way out of a St. Louie ribs joint with all the doors and window wide open.

            Geary gets the win and the save and Uncle Charlies goes stomping out to the line up to shake hands after the game with his head bobbin' and his waist over his grey pin stripes lookin' like the Missouri Compromise.

            He's thinkin', as he's grinnin' and shakin,' that he's gone-a write that guy up in Mechanicsburg who sent him the switch pitchin' letter and maybe send him a bottle of Jim Bean and a couple of extra bottles of that sweet smellin' stuff he got from the nice tall ladies on the Boulevard.

            "Geary," he bellowed as they both walked back toward the dugout, "that was some good got-damn switch pitchin' boy. I know you could git us back winnin.'   "We got to take ‘em one day at a time, son..."

             She opened the door slightly.

            "Sir," she said, "the fellows are ready for you in the bullpen."

            "Oh damn," David Wharton yelled out, as the crackers tumbled down into a heap on his desk.

            "I'm sorry sir," she said, "did I startle you?"

            "No, no," Wharton said, "just not good timing, is all."

            "Sir," she said, "may I make an observation?"

            "Of course, Miss. Ains," Wharton said, "you know we encourage employee input into our management style. What is it?"

            "Well, Sir," she said, "if you would use square crackers? Instead of Ritz, you might be able to build your fort better."

            "Miss Aines," Wharton bellowed, "observations are one thing, but trying to change strategy? That's uncalled for and not allowed."

            "I'm very sorry sir," Miss Ains said, "it won't happen again."

            David Wharton gathered up his papers and headed for the door.

            "Anybody who calls? Tell them I'm in the bullpen. Oh, and start the process to get World Series ring sizes on all the players. It's now a done deal."

            "Sir, what's that?" Miss Ains asked David.

            "What's what?" he said

            "The World Series," she said, "is that something you want me to do research on?"

            "%@##*&^**$##," David exclaimed.

            And with that, he slammed the door behind him.

            The idea started with an email. David received it from the Boss in New York: "You may have a pitcher with six fingers," the email stated, "but we've got the switch pitcher."

            This infuriated David. When he calmed down, the idea hit him like an upper deck rocket off the Bull's bat.

            ‘Sure,' David thought. ‘That's it, that's it, damn it.'

            When he arrived at the bullpen, the fellows were there, along with Ramon Henderson and LA, who likes to keep his hand in pitching in case he has to give up his night job. Like last week when he called a Ryan Howard second inning home run. It was so boring that Scott Franzke fell asleep and didn't wake up until the bottom of the fifth.

            "There's a drive to right field," LA said in that slow, deep Texas voice, "looks like it may, well, it may, it's over the fence for number 14 for the big guy....Scott what do you think about that? Scott, Scott? Scott, wake the hell up."

            But what drove David Wharton to insanity were the Yankees signing of Pat Venditte out of Creighton University. Venditte, taken by the Yankees in the 45^thround, can pitch with either arm. His velocity is is 88 to 91 miles an hour as a right-hander, but slower with the left, relying on a sidearm slider. He pitched with both arms in 30 of the 38 games he appeared in at Creighton.

            He went 8-2 overall and set a team record with a 1.88 earned run average and struck out 99 batters in 95 and 2/3 innings.

            In games where Venditte is available, the Yankees won't have to change pitchers to pitcher to a left-hander or right-hander. This is what impressed David Wharton.

            "Okay, listen up," Wharton said to the bullpen pitchers. Everybody's here? Where the hell is Condrey?"

            "I believe sir," LA said, "he's in Ottawa."

            "This isn't the time to go moose hunting," Wharton said. "Send Geary up there to get him."

            Geary put his head down and walked slowly toward the clubhouse. LA started to think that if David sent all the pitchers to Ottawa to look for Condrey, maybe he could get another chance on the mound.

            "I want you fellows to start pitching with both arms," Wharton told the Philly pitchers. "I want you to become switch-pitchers, like that guy the Yankees just signed. He's got..."

            "Sir," Jose Mesa piped up, "you ain't thinkin' about that Chinese pitcher-catcher the Yankees signed a while back, the guy who can pitch then run and catch it himself, are you?"

            "No dammit," David said. "the only guy who could do that on our staff is Moyer. He's slow enough in ball speed, but too damn old to get there fast enough to catch it.

            "No, I'm talking about pitching with either arm.

            "Now are there any questions?"

            Alfonseca raised his hand.

            "Does this mean we can renegotiate our salaries, since we now will be pitching with two arms?"

            "Hell no," David hollered. "You have six fingers on one hand, Anti, do we pay you anymore money? Yes?"

            "Sir?" It was Yoel Hernandez. "Does this mean that some of us might come into the game earlier, cause you might want a right-hander sooner than later?"
            "Hernandez." Wharton said, "if you can throw as fast with your left arm that you do with your right arm, you might be in the game the whole damn game."

            Hernandez shook his head yes like he understood.

            Young Matt Zagurski stood in the back staring at David Wharton.

            "What's the matter, Zagurski," David bellowed, "you got a problem with this?"

            He shook his head no.

            Then LA offered some philosophy.

            "Well I'll tell ya," he said, "if you throw a curve ball with the right arm, does that same pitch thrown with the left arm be a screwball?"

            Wharton stood there staring back at the fellows.

            "The only screw balls I know about are here in the bullpen.

            And they all laughed at that.

            "Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha...ah, ha, ha, ha, ha..."

            And with that, David Wharton went back to his office to plan for the World Series.

     When four brothers grow up, all playing ball, then all thinking in later years they are the second coming of Gene Mauch, differences of opinion come and go faster than birthdays, father's days, and  beautiful nights at the ball park, when you are seated close enought that you can hear the umpire call a third strike, and the third beer was defintely doused with a chemical that makes you a baseball expert.

     Sometimes, a brother hits on an opinion that's as good as gold. That's truer than true. That turns out to be right. Okay, once in  a while.

      Trading Placido Polanco (Poly) may go down as one of the worse trades in Phillies history. They received nothing for him, short of a convicted felon who sits in jail...try calling him in the seventh (Ramon, cool it, I'm only kidding).

     Brother Tom, when it wasn't popular to say so, said it from the beginning. Mixed in his opinion were words such as stupid, regret, and assnine.  So when you are right, right from the beginning, it should, on this father's day, be recognized, to a father who most likely played more games in his backyard with his children, than he did on the diamond, both hard and soft ball. Now that's saying something! I know that because he struck me out with that damn wiffle ball curve more than a few times.

     So it be noted and documented.

     Now, but here's what I think...

     He could-a have been in the first base dugout last night. If not for the fabled Wade-er-gate, maybe he would-a. Same with Poly; could-a had him at third. They both could-a, and the Phillies would-a, be a much different club, had we should-a.

     But we've got an exciting, young team, a team that's fun to watch. A team that sweeps, then loses some.  Maye next time we'll do better; in the game, and in the front office. And should-a won't be a could-a.

     "A tract of land completely surrounded by water, not large enough to be called a continent." The Phillies may very well be called an island. A good team, a decent nucleus: "a central part about which other parts are grouped or gathered around." 

     Unfortunately, the "other parts" that gather around it are sometimes suspect. The club may have the best nucleus it has had since Lee Thomas and chief boy scout leader Eddy Wade put together in the '91 and '92 seasons. Then '93 was a joy ride through the rapids. Unfortunately, that club fell apart faster than a barrel over the Niagara Falls. Let's take a look at the present day nucleus, or the so-called untouchables:

• Chase Utley
• Ryan Howard
• Jimmy Rollins
• Shane Victorino
• Cole Hammels
• Bret Myers
• Carlos Ruiz
  

     I say, don't trade any of these players prior to July 31. That leaves a barrel full of players led by Aaron Rowand, who just might be the best card Gillick-an's Island can play. Rowand is a good ball player. He might be able to bring a middle inning reliver whose name isn't Jose Mesa and go on and help a team that needs an outfield bat and glove in mid-season.

    That way, the Phillies can put Victorino in center where he belongs and move Greg Dobbs to right. Dobbs is hitting a respectable .284 with 6 HRs and 25 RBI, not bad for a part time player. This would open a spot on the bench for Chris Coste, who could help the club with his bat late in the game. I'm not saying Coste can push the island over the top, but he can hit, especially in pressure situations.

     What else can they do? Are any of the other parts gathered around the nucleus worth enough to draw talent to Gillick-an's Island, to help push the team ahead of the Mets and Braves? Will clubs trade for Barajas, or the home run ripping-demon, Helms? Or any of the stiff arms out in the bullpen?

     You're kidding right? I asked someone the other day, "what would you do to improve the team." He answered, "I'd trade for one or two good relief pitchers." Trade what? Trade one of the nucleus? Or one of the spare parts? Or perhaps empty the already depleted minor leagues?

      So, unless I'm missing something here, a Mesa signing is about the best we can get excited about. Maybe Aaron Rowand bringing someone slightly better than a stiff. So get ready for the rest of the up and down Phillies season, because on this Gillick-an's Island, there are no rescue boats in sight.

Recently someone wrote in and said I was too harsh on Pat Gillick, that "on paper" the Phillies bullpen wasn't "too shaby," but he can't prevent injuries. You can read the full comment by clicking on "Comment" belowBest of the Brightest.

Pat Gillick knew over a year ago that Tom Gordon was at the very least unstable, at the very best--the kid who lives next door to me and plays little league said: "Flash is good but he's old and he might get hurt during the season."

That was back in February. A LITTLE LEAGUER!!!!!

Gillick inherited a core of very good players. But he has done little to improve the club to contender status, short of Jamie Moyer and Dobbs and maybe Werth.  Here is what Mr. Gillick hasn't done:

1. Let's start with themanager. I'm not going to insult the man, everybody else has already done that. But he shouldn't be managing the Phillies. He got the job because he was Thome's buddy and Wade wanted to please Thome.

Look at last night's game. He has the infield in during the second inning with a runner on third. He should never have had the infield in that early and it cost him dearly. Then brain-trust Rowand steals second when the Fightens' are down 5-1. I could site example after example but there are too damn many.

Gillick should have fired Manuel over the winter and replaced him with a quality manager who can manage in the NL.

2.Pat Burrell. Enough said, do I have to elaborate? He's an anchor about the Phillies neck currently hitting at  .226 with 6 HRs and 22 RBIs. Sure, he has 41 walks but he also has 36 KOs. I can just hear Harry the K: "Well Wheels, Burrell is on deck with the game tied here in the eighth and Glavine has to be weary of facing him."

"That's right Harry, Burrell is tearing up the league with bases on balls and he may get number 42 tonight."

Gillick should have handled the Burrell situation instead of spending half his time in Toronto. And he wasn't watching Ottawa. Gillick said the team wasn't ready to compete until '08. Sure, as long as he's sitting on his hands.

3.Right field. Shane Victorino is out of place. He should be in center. Instead, we have both left and right field short of power. While Rowand buys time to beef up his batting average so he can sign a nice, fat contract next season with the White Sox. Gillick does nothing.  

4.Third base. Wes Helms and Abraham Nunez are not putting fear into opposing NL teams. Helms is Dr. Strangeglove. Nunez is not the answer. He's a good bench player and that's all. Another hole Gillick left unattended. 

5.Catcher.Carlos Ruiz is doing well. But Barajas? He's too slow behind the plate and he can't hit. But he put a snow job on Gillick and got his money. He's a joke.

6.The bull pen...it's a disgrace. Don't credit Gillick for moving Myers there. If that move was to be made, it should have been better planned. Gillick moved Myers there because he went with a fragile, old player who was not able to carry the team through May. This is not an injury on paper. This is an injury made to happen. He couldn't get through last season, and everybody who knows anything about baseball knew he wouldn't get through this season. Except Gillick. Funny how that is, isn't it?

The bull pen is Gillick's Folly because he knew it stunk and he did nothing about it all winter, except bring in a bunch of stiffs who can't get anybody out. This team is going nowhere until somebody takes over who knows what the hell they are doing. And that ain't Gillick! 

A few days ago I sent an email to the famous Philadelphia Daily News columnist Bill Conlin, a man who never met a diet he didn't like. Or is that liked? Not sure. Anyway in my email I asked Conlin two things:

1. Why does he live in the past? I'm tired of reading about Uncle Hughie and how it was in the seventies. Perhaps, I suggsted, he should retire like Hockman and start doing 'bandwagon' stuff.

2. Is it true he goes to Pat Gillick's house every night and tucks the GM in?

You can imagine the response I got: %*#@%#**&#. And then some.

But it was what he said after that, that got my attention. He said "Pat Gillick is too bright of a man for me to disrespect him." So, I've selected the "Best of the Brightest," no disrespect intended. Conlin also said in a recent column in the paper that he is impressed that Gillick has two citizenships, one here and one in Canada. Yea, Bill, so do all the illegal immigrants. Well sure, eventually they will. Gillick didn't get his overnight.

The Phillies bullpen!  Perhaps Gillick should give dual citizenship to certain members of the bullpen--the Best of the Brightest--so when they get shipped back to Ottawa, they don't have to waste time going through customs. What Conlin should ask Gillick, after he tucks him in, is how the hell did he assemble this crew of inept pitchers who lose game after game between the sixth and eighth innings?

Or better yet, if a guy, one with dual citizenship, can't get anybody out, what's he doing on a major league team? Did it ever occur to Conlin--or anybody else--that as'bright'as Gillick is, he handed over to Uncle Charlie a Double A pen? At best?

It has been rumored that Gillick spends half his time at his Toronto home. Perhaps he missed the game where Geary came in and gave up three straight home runs. It is also rumored that Bobby Cox told his team: "Let's get 'em to the seventh and get them relief boys in. Anybody who can't hit 'em ain't playin' tomorrow."

So what we end up with is a club with potential to win, but handicapped game after game because of an a minor league bullpen.The Best of the Brightest.

No disrespect intended.

"I been having a ball since I was a boy in Beaumont
I love that town but I just couldn't stay
Two-stepped all the way to Amarillo
Shuffled my way into Santa Fe
I just had to see she sunset out in Frisco
The golden gate is great, but it ain't home
Give me a Rodeo
Blame it on Texas don't blame it on me"  (Mark Chestnut) 

I guess last night we can blame the pitiful performance    on Texas...since the Phililes Clay Condrey is from Beaumont, on the tidewater of the River Neches, and one of the first cities in Texas to vote to secede from the Union, just after the Confederate artillery open up and shelled Fort Sumpter.

Speaking of getting shelled, at least at Ft. Sumpter there were no casualities, but we can't say the same about last night. The fan in the lower deck who caught the rocket that ricocheted off the facing of the upper deck from the bat of Matt Stairs, has two fingers in a bandage after staying up half the night walking the floor and wondering why he stuck his hand out in the first place.

We were there last night, nestled in our seats with the family relatives hoping to witness a dry game and a spectacular night of Jamie Moyer's magic tricks: First you see it, now you don't. Moyer didn't have it and that was okay. The Grand Old Guy of the Grand Old Game deserves an off night now and then. 

But the kid from Beaumont? That was single A Lakewood stuff. Either that or we dosed off and  awoke during batting practice. He may have two-stepped his way to Amarillo, but now he should two-step his way back to Ottawa. I hear the sunset over the Ottawa River, just before the water rafting in the spring, has the sunset beat in Frisco 7-2, which was the score last night before Condrey gave up six in a hearbeat.

"Give me a Rodeo." 

 "You ready to go tonight, Jamie?" 

"Yea Tom, I am. Got a little arthritis in the hips, but overall I'm feelin' okay, how about you?"  

"Well, I should be playin' bochie ball at the retirement home, but I need number 300, so I got to keep goin"  

"Know what you mean, Tommy, know what you mean...."

                               Tom Glavine:                                         Jamie Moyer:

 Age:                              41                                                            44

Career wins:                  291                                                         217

Career loses                  192                                                         166

Career innings             4,161                                                      3,357

Strike outs                   2,485                                                      1,995

Career ERA                    3.46                                                        4.16

2007 Salary                $7,500,000                                            $6,500,000

Team Salary                $117,915,819                                        $89,368,214