Dr. No

October 6, Game 1, NLDS:  PHILLIES 4, Cincinnati 0

When you look at the record books, there aren't very many places where the Phillies hold some special record that everyone who's a baseball fan knows by heart.  It's not Steve Carlton with seven no-hitters.  It wasn't Mike Schmidt with 755 homeruns.  Pete Rose had his 44-game hitting streak the year before he became a Phillie.

But tonight, the Phillies finally were able to have one of their own etched into the pantheon of great postseason games with Roy Halladay's no-hitter.  Doc joins Don Larsen as the only pitchers in the history of the game to pitch a no-hitter in the post-season.  And for a change, Phillies fans get to proudly puff their chests as they celebrate, literally, a game for the ages.

There really are no words to express how many fans, including myself, feel on this momentous occasion.  That we are joyous, proud, ecstatic, pumped, psyched, or whatever adjective you wish to use should come as no surprise to even the most casual of fans.  That this means so much, to so many, is simply beyond the comprehension of "outsiders".

We're like everyone else.  We want our teams to win.  We're not just satisfied to make the playoffs; we want the teams to go all the way.  In that respect, we're not much different than fans in Boston, LA, Chicago, or even our fellow fans in Cincinnati.

But in many ways, it's vey different for us.  So many years of watching others continue playing baseball while our guys were hitting the golf course.  So many decades of futility, amassing over 10,000 losses, the most in the history of the game.  After awhile, the losing becomes so customary that the winning seasons, the big wins, and the championships -- few and far between --- take on mythical status and a meaning beyond the joy of rooting for a winner.

If you watched the movie, "Invincible", the story about Vince Papale (and what self-respecting Philadelphia sports fan hasn't?), there is a scene in the movie where Vince's dad, who has mentioned Steve Van Buren's touchdown in the 1948 NFL Championship Game more than a few times already, has a heart-to-heart talk with his son on the steps of his rowhome.

He tells Vince that he knows how he talks about that touchdown all the time because, after his wife had died, the joy of that memory helped him get through the pain.  That the joy of that memory had helped him get through the tough times at work, or in general.  And if you grew up in Philadelphia, or the Philadelphia area, you understood what he meant.  For his generation, it was Van Buren's TD.  For my generation, it was Rick MacLeish, tipping home Andre Dupont's slapper from the point, or Willie Wilson, striking out to end Game Six.

And tonight, a new generation of Philadelphia sports fans have been granted the privilege of being witness to another memory that will be with us, and bring a smile to our faces, and joy to our hearts, for the rest of our lives.  Tonight, we didn't just witness the brilliance of Roy Halladay, we witnessed a moment for the ages; a game that will be mentioned for as long as there are playoff games to be played.

Thanks, Doc.  Bet you never thought being in the postseason would be this good, did you?

The First Cliff Lee Deal: How It Made The Phils Better

When the Phillies traded Cliff Lee this past off-season for the chance to get Roy Halladay, Phillies fans were left scratching their heads.  Sure, Halladay was a great addition, they said.  But why not have Halladay *and* Lee?  The thought here being that Cole Hamels may not return to 2008 form, but would fall somewhere between 2008 and 2009.  So, we needed a #2 starter.

But here's why what actually happened turned out brilliantly, even if it all was simply a happy accident.

Let's go back to July 2009.  J.P. Ricciardi, then the GM of the Blue Jays, saw the young, less-experienced Ruben Amaro coming to ask for Roy Halladay.  Ricciardi, eager to prove to Jays fans that he was a shrewd wheeler-dealer who would get max value for a guy the Jays weren't going to be able to keep, stuck a gun in Ruben's ribs and demanded J.A. Happ, Kyle Drabek, and others, in return for Doc.

Ruben laughed, claiming that the gun was tickling his ribs.  Looking back at Ricciardi, Amaro's response was akin to: "Seriously, J.P., who do you really want?"  Informed that he wasn't kidding, Amaro pinned a $20 bill to Ricciardi's shirt and wished him the best of luck.

Amaro then turned his sights on Lee, who cost the Phils some of their Top Ten prospects, but not Drabek, Brown, or Taylor.  "Genius!", we said.  "Brilliant!", said the two Guinness guys.  "Outstanding, Private Pyle!", said Gunnery Sergeant Hartman.

The commotion of Lee's subsequent trade centered, from the fans' standpoint, on "Why can't we have them both?"  From the club's standpoint, they saw Lee as a rent-a-pitcher who wanted a longer contract and bigger payday than the Phils' management were philosophically prepared to give.  From Lee's standpoint (if his agent is to be believed), he wanted to stay in Philadelphia.

Here's the connundrum, if you're Ruben Amaro:  Your big acquisition wants a bigger deal than you're willing to give.  Your big acquisition's agent, hoping to forment anger in the fan base, tells the media that no such demands were made and that his client loves the city and its fans.  You can hold the line, and then watch the Yankees swoop in and get your big acqusition, leaving you with nothing to show for your bold move. 

If I was Ruben, I would have done exactly what he did when faced with the same situation:  maximize the moves I can make, and pray that what was essentially Lee-for-Halladay doesn't blow up in my face.

But here's why I think the first Lee deal ended up making the Phils even better than they would have been if Ruben had been afraid of the gun J.P. Ricciardi held to his ribs in July 2009 ...

It would be foolish to believe that anyone would have planned for J.P. Riccardi to be fired back in July of 2009, so I'm not giving Ruben any credit for being clairvoyant.  But, anyone who's been around baseball as long as Ruben has knew that the Jays were in trouble last year.  Riccardi, despite his bravado, was desperate to get something for Halladay, but couldn't sit back and take peanuts.  That he over-played his hand probably doomed him more in Toronto than the play of the Jays on the field.  But in over-playing his hand, Amaro did discover something ... the Phils may have been the only team with a legitimate chance of being able to trade for Halladay, anyway.

So, when Riccardi got the axe, his replacement, Alex Anthopoulos, knew that he had to get a Halladay deal done.  He also knew he had a suitor in Amaro, and he also knew how badly his predecessor had over-played his hand.  What better way to get started than by finishing what others had begun, especially when Jays fans all knew that Doc was going and never coming back, anyway?

Now, here's where the original Lee deal makes the Phils better today than they would have otherwise been.  And it's a "Jack Sprat"-type of logic and thinking that gets us there.

By not trading Drabek and Happ, Ruben still had pieces to trade.  However, because Anthopoulos already knew that he would never get both Drabek and Happ, he could lower his price and take one, but not both.  That allowed Ruben to have two bullets in his gun (three, if you recall that Lee was still on the Phils when the Halladay deal was being negotiated) for deals, rather than just one.

Trading Lee, despite the bad press, negative repercussions, and the like, brought back prospects to the club that may help them in the future (or may help them land established players in a trade).  That allowed Drabek to be dealt for Halladay.

The Halladay trade made the Phils better instantly, because Cliff Lee, for all his innings-eating, is no Roy Halladay.  But the original deal for Lee made the Phils better because having J.A. Happ still around allowed Ruben to go out and get Roy Oswalt, arguably one of the best second-half pitchers in the game.

Yes, the Oswalt trade was probably a concession/admission that Ruben probably shouldn't have dealt Cliff Lee.  Or, perhaps, the Oswalt trade was Ruben, doing the Walt Jocketty thing and starting a trend of big-time, trade-deadline deals that keep the Phils contending, even in years where they might seem to be out of it.  It wouldn't surprise me if that's not part of the equation here.

So, had Ruben not run from the gun that Ricciardi was holding, we would have had Halladay as the ace, Hamels at #2, Blanton #3, Moyer #4, and Kendrick #5.  That would mean a playoff rotation of Halladay, Hamels, and Blanton.  With a potential 2011 rotation of Halladay, Hamels, Blanton, Moyer, and Kendrick.

But today, we have Halladay, Oswalt, Hamels, Blanton, and Kendrick, with a playoff rotation of Halladay, Oswalt, and Hamels.  With a 2011 rotation of Halladay, Oswalt, Hamels, Blanton, and Kendrick.

It could just be me, but I like the 2010 versions with Halladay and Oswalt, and the 2011 rotation with those guys, much, much better than I like what we could have had.

Just another example of the best deals sometimes being the deals you don't make.

Sending A Message

October 1:  PHILLIES 11, Atlanta 5

Just in case the Braves thought they would roll over a Phillies club with nothing more to play for tonight, the Phils sent a message ... we're the Beast of the East, the Best of the NL.

J-Roll sent a message ... I'm not fully back from the leg problems ... but don't think I'm not a dangerous hitter.

Kyle Kendrick sent a message ... I may have been inconsistent against the rest of the National League, but I have the Braves' number.

Domonic Brown sent a message ... I may be a rookie, but I can draw a key two-out walk to drive home the go-ahead run.

The bullpen, save Zagurski in the ninth, sent a message ... Charlie's going to keep us loose and give us innings, but he's also keeping us fresh ... and while he's doing that, we'll chuck a bunch of goose eggs.

What makes 2010 so much different than the last four years is that:

In 2007, no one expected us to catch the Mets, let alone win the division
In 2008, we were just happy as all get-out to get to the World Series
In 2009, we just wanted a chance to defend the title

In 2010, expectations entering the season were high, became tempered with the offensive malaise of June and July, and soared with the team's play following "The Houston Massacre".  I think folks expect the Phils to win.  Not hope that they'll win.  Not hope for a chance to repeat.

We'll see.

For me, I will follow what has become tradition in my house ... cheesesteaks served for good luck.

Halladay ... IN!

September 27:  PHILLIES 8, Washington 0
PHILLIES WIN NATIONAL LEAGUE EAST DIVISION CHAMPIONSHIP

And this is why you trade Kyle Drabek!

Yes, it looked grim through the bitter months of June and July, as Phillies fans everywhere, perplexed by the offensive funk and frustrated by the growing injury list, began figuring out just what it would take to capture a measly Wild Card spot.  No one, as I have stated before, could have seen September coming.

But it was for a September stretch run that one Ruben Amaro traded away a piece of Phillie Phuture to get the gunslinger affectionately known as "Doc".  Fans always knew we could use him, but how little did we ever realize how much we would need him.

A 14-1 record against teams in the NL East with a 1.69 ERA.  That's an ace.  That's a guy who wins you divisions, divisional series, an LCS, and a World Series.

And in case there was no doubt, the two-hitter he spun tonight, combined with his 21 wins, sparkling ERA, and perfect game, has probably clinched the 2010 NL Cy Young Award, as well.

Congratulations to the Phils ... let's keep this going and take a place in the pantheon among the greatest dynasties to ever play the game!!

Kyle Kendrick, You Are The Weakest Link ... Goodbye!

September 26:  New York 7, PHILLIES 3 (Magic Number is still 2)
September 25:  New York 5, PHILLIES 2 (Magic Number is 2)
Record since "Houston Massacre":  23-6
Record in September: 19-5

There's an old saw, with many variations based on the situation, that goes like this:

"If you're sitting at a table, trying to figure out who the idiot is at the table, and you don't recognize anyone else as being the idiot, the idiot is you."

In the "table" known as the Phillies rotation, it appears that Kyle Kendrick still doesn't realize that he's gonna be the odd man out come playoff time.  Pitching six innings as if he's auditioning to replace one of the Big Three, Kyle reverted back to his old ways in the seventh, proving once again that he's the weak link in an otherwise stellar run this past month.

I suppose it's not a surprise to Phillies fans, really.  After all, we've watched this kid pitch inconsistently all season, so why would we be even remotely fooled into thinking that the performances of Messrs. Halladay, Hamels, Oswalt, and (lately) Blanton would inspire the young Kendrick to greatness?  I think, in part, it's because we'd love for this September storming of the NL East Bastille to include a flashback to another September of years past, when another young pitcher helped drive the Phils to a title.

Alas, much like Connor McLeod (of the Clan McLeod), there can be only one Marty Bystrom.

And so, all of Phille fandom must wait another day for the Fightins to have a chance to clinch the NL East.

"Icing The Kicker"? Really, Jerry Manuel?

The Mets' four-year implosion from Major League Team to The Bad News Bears is now complete as manager Jerry Manuel pulled off a move last night that was so bush-league that no self-respecting bush-leaguer would ever do.

In case you missed it, the Mets had runners at the corners with two out in the top of the ninth inning of a game they trailed, 3-2.  Brad Lidge was facing Pedro Feliciano and had an 0-2 count on him.  As Lidge went into his windup, the third base umpire started to frantically wave for time.

Lidge didn't see this, nor did the home plate umpire, as the pitch was delivered.  Feliciano swung and topped the ball back to Lidge, who threw to first for the final out.  Or so the 45,000-plus at Citizens Bank Park thought.  The third base umpire noted that he'd called time before the ball left Lidge's hand, so the out was taken off the board and Lidge would have to pitch to Feliciano again.

Now, a manager cannot simply call time to "ice" a pitcher.  There has to be a good reason to call time in baseball:  an injury, make a pitching change, etc.  So, it's obvious that Jerry Manuel had a good reason to call time in the situation.  Perhaps a pinch-runner at first in case Feliciano hits a ball in the gap to try and take the lead.

Nope.  Jerry Manuel called time to insert a pinch-runner at third base!!!  Keep in mind, there are two outs.  So on a fly ball to the outfield, the game's over.  On a ground ball to the infield, Greg Luzinski could be standing on third ... and the play is never going to be made to the plate.  Wild pitch?  Well, that's always a possibility with Lidge ... but unless the ball comes right back off the backstop to Chooch ... even Luzinski scores from third on a wild one.

So, why waste a pinch runner in that situation?  Why put in a faster runner than Thole with two outs?  I've seen hundreds of games in my lifetime, and I've never seen a team pinch-run for a guy at third with two outs.  There's no sane or legitimate baseball reason for it.  Which probably explains why Jerry Manuel isn't one-tenth the manager Charlie Manuel is.

The only reason for such a move is that Manuel was introducing the concept of "icing the pitcher".  He knows that Lidge is prone to wild pitches, especially with the slider.  Ahead in the count, 0-2, he knows the slider is coming on the next pitch, but the control Lidge has shown of late with the slider, and with the defense Chooch possesses, he also knows Feliciano is toast.

Unless, of course, he can piss off Lidge and get him angry enough to have him over-throw the slider and wild pitch a run home.  He can't affect Lidge by hollering "He ain't no pitcher, he's a belly-itcher" from the dugout, but he can piss him off by calling time just at the start of his windup.  And that's exactly what he did.

Bush league.  Childish.  And a clear indication that the Mets, as an organization, have fallen so far, so fast.  To engage in tactics that scream out to be eradicated from the rulebook.  (Here's how you do it:  once a pitcher comes set on the rubber, only the batter may call time, and the home plate umpire still controls whether or not he will allow it.  To prevent the batter doing to Lidge what Jerry Manuel did, no substitutions can be made when the batter calls time after a pitcher comes set.)

Here's what the Phillies should do to send a clear message to the Mets, and to MLB, about the way you can prevent this from becoming the norm (because you know Tony LaRussa saw this last night and went 'hmmmmmmmm'):  Plunk the first Met batter in today's game ... right between the shoulder blades.

Send the message to the manager that if you're gonna pull that kind of bullshit, your players are going to pay for it.  You start getting your players plunked for getting cute with the rules, and the MLBPA will be screaming for MLB to outlaw the practice.

I have one very strong message for Jerry Manuel, knowing that he will never see it:

You're a joke.  Your team stinks, and the best you can do to try and win a game is to pull a bush league stunt to try and rattle the pitcher.  Why not teach your guys to hit?  Or field?  You're leading by example, and the example you set last night shows why the Mets have mailed in this season and rolled over.  Your choice of tactic last night may have appeared "cat smart", but your players saw it for what it was ... an act of desperation by a manager who has been in over his head since he took over, and who hasn't anything better up his sleeve to improve his team's fortunes.

Your players don't need you, doing magic tricks with the rules.  They need a strong leader with the vision to make the club better through stronger fundamentals, not through rules tricks.  You're doing sleight-of-hand, hoping the players won't see that you have nothing up your sleeve to make them a contending team.  But the players have already read the book; they already know the ending.  And nothing you're doing is instilling any confidence in you.

You've mailed in the season, as well.  And last night's bush-league move was an acknowledgement that you have nothing better to offer your team than a hope and a wish and a dream that if you could just upset Brad Lidge, you could get the wild pitch necessary to tie the game.  And you'd have been satisfied with that, crowed about the "brilliance" of your stratgem, when you should be embarrassed that such a tactic is all you could think of in the situation.

A bolder, more educated manager, seeking to turn fortune 'round, would have gone for the surprise suicide squeeze.  But that would have required execution and fundamentals, something you obviously have spent little or no time discussing with your team.  Which is why the only bullet you had in the chamber was a cheap, immature stunt.

Good luck in your future endeavors, Jerry Manuel.  Because it's highly doubtful that anyone will ever hand you the keys to a major league club again.  Last night's idiocy should have finally opened eyes to the fact the the emperor is not wearing any clothes.

Oh Thank Heaven ... Streak's At Eleven!!

September 24:  PHILLIES 3, New York 2 (Magic Number is 2)
Record since the "Houston Massacre":  23-4
Record in September:  19-3

On Wednesday, I wheeled the virtual champagne from the virtual wine cellar into the virtual chiller.  Tonight, I moved the virtual champagne from the virtual chiller to the virtual ice.

Yes, Phillies fans, your long, long wait for the 2010 Eastern Division Championship is almost over.  How many of us, myself included, saw this coming after the Phils turned a 24-13 start into a 49-46 record in July with a horrendous 25-33 run in which the team simply couldn't hit to save its life?  How many of us ... let's be honest ... gave up on the club's chances at the division, and started computing scenarios in which we could still get the Wild Card?  I know I did.

But I the one thing I refused to do is completely give up hope that the guys could at least get into the playoffs.  I love the Phils too much to give up on 'em completely, not in July.  I never thought they'd do what they've done, but I wasn't bailing on them until it was clear that they couldn't catch anyone.

Think about how this team could have stacked up with some of the great all-time teams if they had played like champions in that 58-game funk.  Let's take a look at it.  The Phils are now an MLB-best 93-61.  Subtracting out that 25-33 stretch, and the Phils are 68-28 in games prior to and after that 58-game aberration.  Here is what the Phils' record could have looked like (as of tonight) if:

The Phils had played those 58 games at their post-49-and-46 pace (.745) clip:  111-43
The Phils had played those 58 games at their pre-49-and-46 pace (.648): 105-49

The Phils had played those 58 games at their current pace (.604):  103-51
The Phils had played those 58 games at a .556 (90-win) pace:  100-54
The Phils had played those 58 games at a .500 pace:  97-57

Obviously, this is pure fantasy, as no one really knows what would have happened if the Phils had played much, much better over those 58 games than they actually did.  For openers, would they still have coveted Roy Oswalt with such a great record?  Would they have needed him?

The list above is interesting when you consider how we saw this club coming out of Spring Training.  We all thought this team, with Halladay, was even better than last year's team, and had the word "powerhouse dynasty" written all over it.  Did we think 100 wins were possible?  No, I don't think so ... I saw very few article or blog postings talking about 100 wins (Comments to posts?  Yes, but few bloggers themselves were predicting a cool century).  But if you look at what the Phils were capable of, even playing those 58 games at a 90-win pace (100-54 with eight games to play), you get the sense that the injuries and long hitting slump may have robbed us of a place in the pantheon of great single-season teams.

As it is, the current September is the stuff of legend.  As much as September of 2007 was epic, this has been a September that could rank as one of the greatest closing kicks ever by a pennant contender.  It's almost New York Giant-like in magnitude.

The Giants were 20-5 in September of 1951 to make up seven games after a 20-9 August ... the Phils are presently 19-3 making up three games after an 18-10 August.  That's a 40-14 finish for the Giants versus a current skein of 37-13.  Bet you haven't seen anyone compare the 2010 Phils to the 1951 Giants, have you?

So, let's enjoy this ride while it lasts, and keep reminding ourselves that we're watching something absolutely historical as the Phils continue to ride roughshod on the NL.  Like you, I hope the bottom doesn't fall out ... but somehow, I think the way this club responded to all the injuries (remember what happened to the Mets when they lost Beltran, Delgado, Reyes, and Putz last year) has them believing that they are the best team on the planet.

And I agree ... the Phils are the best team in all of baseball right now.  And just like I won't argue the merits of some Whiz wit on my steak ... I won't argue my previous point.

Halladay Two-O

September 21:  PHILLIES 5, Atlanta 3 (Magic Number is 6)
September 20:  PHILLIES 3, Atlanta 1 (Magic Number is 8)

He wasn't particularly sharp, especially after the first inning, but Roy Halladay had just enough guile, arm, and guts to win his 20th game of the season tonight.  In so doing, he becomes the first Phillies pitcher since Steve Carlton in 1982 to win 20 games.  That 28-year wait was the third-longest active streak in the majors.

The Phils did just enough again tonight to win, but facing a quality team like the Braves, it doesn't have to be the 21st Century edition of The Bash Brothers.  It just has to be a win.

Now, we all know how fragile leads can be (ask the 1964 Phils and 2007 Mets about that).  But with a 5-game lead and just 10 to play, six against woeful opponents, it's getting clearer every day that the Phils should soon be posting one of those little "x-" in front of "Philadelphia" in the standings.  I won't go so far as to call it over ... I have steadfastly refused to celebrate anything until that little "x" appears in the standings.  But this is just about over, folks.

Ninety-one wins.  A season-high nine-game win streak.  Thirty games above .500.  A 17-3 record in September.  A 21-4 record since the long-forgotten "Houston Massacre".  Another sell-out at The Bank.  Rally Towels everywhere you look. 

It looks and feels like October baseball ... because it's almost certain that, for the fourth consecutive year, there will be October baseball in the City of Philadelphia ... a new record for consecutive post-season appearances by the Phils.

We can all revel in the wonderful run in the second half that's had us come from seven down to five up, an amazing twelve-game swing in the course of the last 60 days.  That's right, two months ago, this very evening, the Phils were seven games behind the Braves in National League East. 

I'm going to go out on a huge limb and say that this past month has been the greatest month of baseball ever played by the Phillies.  Yeah, it's easy to get caught up in the hype, but when you live as far away as I do (Chicagoland) and you're not right there, in the middle of the frenzy, it's easier for me not to get caught up in the hype, because I'm not surrounded by peers, co-workers, family, friends, and neighbors, all high-fiving each other over the streak the Phils are in.

I'm quite serious.  Yes, the Phils had a magical, 12-3 October in 2008.  But we expected it (well, I suppose many of us suspected the bottom would eventually fall out as it usually does for Philadelphia teams) and went along for the ride.  But no one saw this coming, especially after losing that four-game set to the Astros.  No one could have foreseen this.  Even I kept saying that at least we could grab the Wild Card if all else failed.

And because no one saw this coming, it's not only all the more sweeter, it's also impacting my judgement on whether or not this stretch of baseball is the greatest ever played by a Phillies team.  And I'm going to say that it is.  You may disagree with my opinion, but that opinion, and $4, gets you a something-or-other coffee-type drink at one of those coffee-like places where everyone drinking a cup thinks they're very special and discerning people for drinking what is, essentially, whipped cream, air-injected milk, with caramel syrup and about as much real coffee in it as tiramisu.  In other words, Starbucks is to coffee what Jamba Juice is to coffee.  (Okay, that's my "you cannot be serious" rant about Starbucks and all Starbucks wanna-be shops.)

Enjoy the ride, Phillies fans ...

The Gutless, Heartless Team That Call Themselves "The Mets"

Message to the Mets (and their fans):

Since you failed to show up at Citi Field for your weekend series against the Braves, I expect you to refuse to show up for your weekend series at Citizens Bank Park this weekend.  After all, if you didn't have the guts to play spoiler in the NL East race this past weekend, you forfeit the right to exhibit any guts against the Phils this coming weekend.  So, keep playing the way you did against the Braves, mailing it in and reserving your tee times.

It's quite obvious that you have no heart.  The Collapse of 2007 was supposed to be an anomaly, a fluke, not really representative of the great Met "tradition" (of some of the luckiest plays ever in World Series history).  But what about 2008, when you saw the Phightins in the rear view and folded like a tent?  Or 2009, when a few key injuries sank your season before it every started?  Or the team that mailed in 2010 from Spring Training?

So, please, don't start caring about the season now.  Don't bother worrying about "playing for pride" ... you had that chance this past weekend and passed on it like I pass on rice cakes or whole wheat bread.  Don't suddenly realize that you can play spoiler now.  Just keep on playing your Wiis or X-Box 360s in the clubhouse to take your mind off how absolutely horrible your club is, and what a bunch of gutless, heartless players you all are.

And if you should get the idea that you should get up off your knees and start playing baseball, don't.  Your heads are no place for ideas.  Just keep on collecting your paychecks and mailing in your results.

Changing, ever so slightly, what Marcellus Wallace said to Butch in "Pulp Fiction", I say to the Mets:

"You leave town.  Tonight, right now.  And when you're gone, you stay gone, or you be gone.  You lost all your Philly privileges."

Perfect Ten

September 9:  Off day
September 8:  PHILLIES 10, Florida 6

Well, the offense has started to come back to life, and not a moment too soon.  Especially since we have a score to settle with the Mets, who shut us out for an entire series way back in June that I believe started us on that crystal-blue funk that lasted until July.

I'm trying not to jinx Jimmy Rollins by talking too much about his hamstring.  Suffice it to say, it would be great to have everyone back for the stretch run, but let's be sure everyone is ready and healthy enough to play, especially in the post-season.  Here's hoping the tightness in Jimmy's hammy is just that and that a few days' rest will set him to right.

Of course, the Braves lost tonight, sending them a full game back of the Phils.  Nice to see the Cardinals start hitting at just the right time (how many times in the past has a rival played a team that was in a funk instead of being red-hot?).  Looks like the Bravos put Kawakami into the 'pen, given his 1-11 record as a starter.  It'll be interesting to see how that plays out when the Phils host Atlanta during the next homestand.

I followed a link at The Good Phight this morning over breakfast, and in the linked story, it seems that Kyle Kendrick is a bit miffed that he's not being considered as a reliable fifth starter by Charlie Manuel (and the fans) as Manuel has not named his fifth starter for Saturday's game at New York.  Seems Kendrick's main complaint is that the other guys on the staff are considered "perfect", and Kyle doesn't believe he's been appreciated enough.

Kyle, I doubt you read this blog.  And if you do, you're probably like every other major leaguer who thinks the ordinary fan can't possibly understand the intricasies of the game as well as you can.  But let me clue you in on something ....

Those other pitchers?  The ones you're complaining about being considered "perfect" instead of you?

Roy Oswalt?  5-1 with the Phils, 2.30 ERA and 11-13 overall, 3.09 ERA with a WHIP of 1.073.  For his career?  146-83, 3.22 ERA, WHIP of 1.190.

Cole Hamels?  Only the 2008 World Series MVP.  10-10, 3.06, WHIP of 1.165.  For his career, 58-44, 3.54, WHIP of 1.173.

Roy Halladay?  Cy Young Winner.  17-10, 2,33, WHIP of 1.050.  For his career, 165-86, 3.33 ERA, WHIP of 1.184.

And you?  9-8, 4.29 ERA, WHIP of 1.389.  For your career, 32-22, 4.74, WHIP of 1.433.

Do you see why, exactly, they're deemed "perfect" and you're not?  Come cry to the press when you can match their accomplishments and still don't get any credit.  Pitch like a pro, not like a minor leaguer, and the fans will cut you some slack.  If you take the hill and the Braves have lost or are losing, pitch like you want to personally put the fork in them.

Until then, remember ... you play in Philadelphia, the toughest town to please in all of sports.  We don't want to hear how hard you're trying to be a better pitcher, we want you to become a better pitcher.  As Master Yoda once said:  "There is no try.  Only do."

You would be wise, young Padwan, to listen and understand that concept.

Let's Show Some Respect ...

... when Atlanta's Bobby Cox comes to The Bank for the final time in the regular season later this month.

The Florida Marlins didn't give Bobby Cox so much as a PA announcement this weekend, becoming the only team thus far this season not to recognize Cox's impending retirement after all those years at the helm of the Braves and Blue Jays.  To me, that seems petty.  Yes, it's a divisional rival, but we're talking about one of the greatest managers in MLB history.

Surely, the Marlins recognize that.  And, yes, Cox did talk some smack back when the Fish canned their manager, but that's understandable for two reasons: a) Cox was a mentor of the Marlins' skipper, b) the way the Marlins did it, as they do everything else, was particularly classless.  But regardless, ignoring Cox's accomplishments and his career is childish, petulant, and unprofessional.

So, even though we're embroiled in a heated pennant race with the Braves, and we'd never, ever cheer for them, I hope that both the fans, as well as the Phillies' organization, are classy and respectful towards Bobby in his final series in Philadelphia.  I know we take the rap for being "bad" fans, but too many people mistake passion for ignorance.  But no amount of explaining Philadelphians' behavior will suffice if neither the team, nor its fans, are as classless as the Marlins were this weekend.

We hate the Braves.  Finished behind them a lot during their 14-year run.  But as baseball fans, let's make sure we do what we have always done ... recognize greatness in all its forms, no matter the opponent.

Let's give Bobby Cox a rousing ovation, and acknowledge that while we don't like his team, we understand that we have been witness to one of the greatest managers to ever grace the game.

Order up!

Killing Me Softly With Kendrick

September 5:  Milwaukee 6, PHILLIES 2

For the second time in two weeks, Kyle Kendrick took to the mound knowing that the Braves had either lost their game earlier in the day, or were trailing, 6-1, as he took the mound.  And, for the second time in two weeks, he pitched poorly in a situation where the Phils stood to gain ground on the Braves.

In this case, he faltered with the Phils in a position to catch the Braves and move into a tie for first place, erasing what had been a seven-game deficit back in July.  I simply have one thing to say to Phillies management at this time:

SEND HIM TO THE BULLPEN!

There must be someone, anyone in the farm system who might be able to give a Marty Bystrom-like performance in the rotation during September.  And I don't necessarily mean that he has to go 5-0 with a 1.50 ERA like Bystrom did in 1980.  I just want someone who will go, say, 3-1 or so, and give us some quality innings, save the bullpen, and keep us in games, especially on nights when the Braves are losing (or have already lost).

Is it too much to ask of this guy to pitch like a big boy in big boy games?  He's quickly becoming a streak-stopper, and that's not gonna play well along the shores of the Delaware now that the remainder of the games are against divisional opponents.  It's even more critical this week, because the Braves play the Cardinals over the coming weekend, and there's a huge chance to not only gain ground, but maybe start putting some space between us and Atlanta.

And, for God's sake ... don't let him pitch against the Nationals.  Please.  Pretty please.  With a cheesesteak on top.  Keep Kendrick away from the Nationals.

I know, I know.  It's only a one-game deficit, and we still have six to play against the Braves.  But something tells me that Kyle Kendrick is going to impact this pennant race in a negative way before it's all over.  And if that means the wild card, and no chance of home-field advantage in the NLDS and NLCS, the road to a third straight pennant, and baseball immortality, just got a little tougher.

The Phils have been dipped in the waters of the River Styx.  Apparently, they let Kyle Kendrick hold them by the heel for the dunking.

Order up!

Harry Kalas: Connecting With Fans

In the words of His Whiteness, Richie Ashburn, it's "hard to believe" that we've endured almost two full baseball seasons without the dulcet tones of our life-long friend, Harry Kalas.  Almost impossible to fathom Phillies baseball without him.  And, with all due respect to Tom McCarthy, Phillies baseball just isn't the same on TV or radio, without Harry.

Many people wrote about Harry and what he meant to Phillies baseball back in April of 2009, just after Harry's passing.  And nothing I could say here, almost 18 months later, could really add to the tributes, praise, and anecdotes that were written at the time.  Nothing I could add would give any greater insight to the man, the legend, nor could convince anyone to think the world of Harry.

I do want to mention, however, something that my own father had said, way back on a cold September afternoon in the Fall of 1976.  It was my official introduction into the psychology of sports fans.

I was 13 in the Fall of '76, and had been watching Phillies baseball many evenings with my Dad, since I was eight.  So, when it came to announcers, I didn't know from Adam about what made Harry "special" to Phillies fans.  In fact, if memory serves, Harry wasn't nearly as popular in 1976 as he would be in the years to come.  But the incident that I'm about to recount, and the comment that incident elicited from my father, was probably the start of the special relationship the fans came to have with Harry.

It was Sunday, September 26.  A cold, rainy day greeted the Phils in their final visit to Parc Jarry in Montreal for a double-header.  The opener, delayed by rain that fell intermittently throughout the game, saw Jim Lonborg pitch extremely well, and Greg Luzinski hit a three-run homer in the sixth to propel the Phillies to a 4-1 win.  Because of the late start, word had reached the booth in the seventh inning that the Pirates had lost in St. Louis, 5-2, assuring the Phils of no worse than a tie for the NL East title.

When the last out was recorded, Harry, as excited as we'd ever heard him, proclaimed the news that the Phillies had won the National League Eastern Division.  He and Whitey shared a word or two, then Harry gave his tradtional, "Back with final totals and a recap after this ..."

What Phillies fans witnessed when the telecast resumed for the between-games show was, in my opinion, the start of the love affair that Phillies fans had, and will always have, with Harry Kalas.  What we witnessed in my home, in front of the TV, tuned to Channel 17, prompted my Dad to utter the words that have stayed with me to this day.

When the cameras came back on, Harry was on-camera.  In the background was a black backdrop with the Expos logo on it (remember, the game was being played in Montreal).  As Harry spoke, the camera picked up tiny glimmers on Harry's cheeks.  Tears.  Our announcer was as choked up about the Phillies winning as we were.  He had been crying, just as my Dad had been crying.  Tears of joy.  While Phillies fans had "suffered" though the horrible 1972 season ... Harry witnessed every single game.  He probably wondered, back then, if he'd ever call a playoff game.

But here he was, crying like we were.  My Dad, not given to bouts of sentimentality, said, "He cares as much as we do.  I'll be damned!"  From that day on, my father was a Harry Kalas fan, and so was I. 

Looking back, I've come to realize that, for me, it was important to know that the people who were broadcasting the games that I watched or listened to, were as invested as I was in the outcome.  Prior to that day, I had just thought of Harry as some guy, just doing his job.  But that day, we all discovered that it was more than just a job for Harry (and, for every other broadcaster in the business).  We discovered that he was one of us.  A fan.  Someone who lived and died with wins and losses just like we did.

That Harry Kalas would become a legend and a hero in Philadelphia is something we should have seen coming.  From guys like Lenny Dykstra and Aaron Rowand, Reggie White and Clyde Simmons, Bobby Jones and Steve Mix, Bobby Clarke and Barry Ashbee ... Philadelphians have loved, admired, and made heroes of players who were most like Philadelphians themselves.  People the citizens would be proud to call one of their own.

Harry Kalas was one of those people.  And whether he ever intended it or not, those tears he cried in 1976 would be the cement that created that special bond between broadcaster and fans that can never be broken.

Order up!

The La-La Shuffle: Two More For The Road

August 31:  PHILLIES 8, Los Angeles 3
September 1:  PHILLIES 5, Los Angeles 1

The world is good for baseball fans when the hitters are hitting, and the pitchers are stifling the opposition, and both are happening at the same time.  The recent hitting funk the Phils encountered masked some very fine pitching performances, and hopefully, with the Opening Day Eight starting to play together with more regularity (and health), the hitting can continue and improve.

Kyle Kendrick pitched very well on Tuesday night, and it's indicative of the way he can pitch when he's focused and, more importantly, when he's not pitching from behind.  It's been said by others, and bears repeating, that once a pitcher gets behind in a game, he's more likely to continue to deteriorate.  Not because he's behind, but because his options become limited.  If they're hitting his best pitch, he's going with something else.  And something else he may have a lack of command over.  Or, he's afraid to nibble at the corners because he feels he can't afford more baserunners.  Or, he tries to do to much by himself, and gets gassed, and becomes completely ineffective.

So it was good to see the Phils give Kyle the lead, and that allowed him, I think, to relax, focus, stay with the game plan, work the corners, spot pitches, and give himself the best chance to succeed.  I haven't done the statistical analysis to back up my theory, but I honestly believe that a pitcher's success on the mound is more closely tied to how his offense performs than most people mugh be willing to give credit for.  Perhaps I will take a look at that in the off-season and make that the focus of a series of posts.

Back to reality, it was great to see Roy Oswalt once again pitching as advertised.  One thing I have thought since the Cliff Lee deal last year is that it's rather rare for the Phillies to land a quality pitcher while he is still a quality pitcher.  The last guy I think we had gotten in that way was Lefty.  Far too many of the Phils "name" acquisitions in the rotation seemed to come at the tail end of their careers.  Guys like Jim Lonborg, Jim Kaat, and Jerry Koosman come immediately to mind, and I'm sure I could come up with a few others you all will recall.

And so, the Phils say goodbye to Hollywood at 5-1 on their current road trip.  A quick stopover in Denver to face Carlos Gonzalez and the Rockies tomorrow, and then home to face the Brew Crew for the weekend.  After the weekend, it's goodbye to the rest of the league, and hello to the NL East for the remainder of the regular season.

As I like to say ... unfold a deck chair and break out the popcorn ... this is gonna be fun ...

Order up!

On Steven Strasburg

Talk to any baseball fan, and they'll have an opinion on the Tommy John surgery that's ahead for Washington Nationals phenom, Steven Strasburg.  Some say he was rushed to the big leagues.  Some will say that this injury simply proves that the pitch count is useless.  Others are gleefully rubbing their hands together with an I-told-you-so look in their eye.  I believe the correct term for those in the last group is schadenfruede.

Through a completely different forum, that of wargaming, I have had the honor of corresponding with Curt Schilling, he of the bloody sock, unvarnished opinion, and killer split-finger fastball.  Back when Curt was still toiling for the Phils, I decided to break away from the usual wargaming conversation and ask him about arm injuries (in part, his own, but in general, about today's pitcher).

For those of you who don't know, Curt is an amateur historian, and knows his baseball history as well as a player can.  He's read tons of stuff about the past, and it's helped shape him as a pitcher.  So it came as somewhat of a surprise to this baseball fan (who knows the statistical history of the game, as well as its general history) when Curt's response about today's pitchers sometimes being oft-injured came through.

Paraphrasing, he said:  "Back then, it was survival of the fittest.  Teams didn't have a lot of money invested in a pitcher, so if he blew out his elbow after one start, they released him and found someone else.  By sheer force of numbers, the durable guys stayed and made up the staff for years.  Everyone else came and went.  You stayed in the Show because you were healthy."

Back in 1884, Old Hoss Radbourn pitched 678-2/3 innings, winning 59 and losing 12 for the Providence Grays of the National League.  And this, just the year after he'd pitched 632-1/3 innings!  Radbourn, who had been trying to get out of his contract, approached manager Frank Bancroft in May, and made a stunning proposal:  Let me pitch the remainder of the games, and if I do that for you, you'll let me out of my contract. 

Surprisingly, Bancroft agreed, in part because he didn't believe that Old Hoss could do it.  But do it Old Hoss did, pitching the Grays to the National League pennant, starting and completing 73 consectutive games.  On his career, Radbourn would start 502 games, and complete 488 of them.

In 1884, however, at the age of 29, pitching almost 700 innings took its toll.  His arm hurt so badly that his own wife had to accompany him on road trips to help him get dressed, especially to get his shirt on.  He couldn't raise his arm high enough to comb his hair.  And in the end?  Radbourn signed on for one more year in Providence before moving on to the Boston Beaneaters.

Old Hoss was one of those guys Schilling talked about: the survivor.  Look up the pitching register in the Baseball Encyclopedia, and see how many guys had one-year careers, or even one-game careers.  Some of the one-game guys pitched complete-game shutouts.  Surely, there was talent there to be mined.  Why didn't a young kid, who just shutout a big league ball club, get a second chance anywhere?

We'll never know, because injuries aren't recorded in those days of old.  Maybe the pitcher got home sick.  Maybe his arm stiffened after the game and the manager simply moved on to someone else.  Maybe, like Strasburg, he tore something, and was never the same pitcher again.  In the days before sports medicine, a blown MCL or ACL or rotator cuff simply meant the end of the line, no matter the age or experience level.

Back to Strasburg, it's impossible to fault the Nationals for trying to win for their fans.  Teams have been doing that since 1869 when the first pro team came into existence.  But unlike the teams of old, who would have discarded Strasburg immediately upon learning of his injury, today's teams will do whatever they can to repair and rebuild their investments.  And with procedures such as the Tommy John surgery, pitchers also know that their careers aren't over if and when a serious elbow or shoulder injury happens. 

Although you'd be hard-pressed to find many who would say this, today's medical techniques in sports medicine are win-win for everyone: the team gets to try and get as much as possible from their investment, and the pitcher isn't facing a life without baseball.

Questions, of course, will abound.  Did Strasburg hurt himself by not staying another year in college to develop his arm strength?  Did the Nationals advance him too far, too fast?  Did everyone do enough to make sure this injury was less likely to happen?

All good questions; all unanswerable.  No one knows why this happened.  Perhaps Strasburg's physiology is such that he's prone to this type of injury.  Maybe it's his delivery and arm slot.  Maybe it the way he throws or the types of pitches he throws.  Maybe it's his mechanics.  Maybe his physique, despite his desire, simply won't allow him to throw a baseball like he should to be injury-free.

[NOTE: Thanks to Todd for pointing out the issues raised about Strasburg's mechanics as a cause for concern and potential injury.  Try as I might, it's hard to read everything there is out there on baseball.  I thank Todd for his comments and links on the topic.  --  Brien]

Take a guy like Cliff Lee.  Weren't you surprised to find out that Lee does not ice down his arm after a game?  Doesn't that go against everything we've been told about how you keep an arm from developing arm troubles?

And how about Nolan Ryan's recent revelation that he doesn't believe in pitch counts.  And that he discovered, by pitching so much, his own shoulder wore down in all the right places that his own body "adjusted" to the toil on his arm and actually protected him from injury.  Could that be why a guy like Radbourn could do what he did?  That he'd pitched so much, for so long, that his whole shoulder simply got "worn" into shape?

So, what's the answer?  More pitching?  Less?  Perhaps the truth lies somewhere between Hoss Radbourn and a strict pitch count, especially in the minor leagues.  Maybe lessons could be learned from the so-called Ironmen and applied to today's pitchers.  Perhaps a combination of advanced, medical monitoring of pitchers, along with more liberal pitch counts, is the key.  There must be a happy medium, an optimum performance level that strengthens an arm/shoulder/elbow for the rigors of the big leagues, yet protects the pitcher from over-use.  It seems to me that if baseball wants to invest in the development of its players, it should look into finding the right mix that helps pitchers avoid career-threatening injuries. 

After 141 years, baseball is still finding the Nolan Ryans and Hoss Radbourns by chance.  Perhaps its time to start developing them on purpose.

Order up!

Slide, Jimmy, Slide!!

August 27:  PHILLIES 3, San Diego 2 (12 innings)

Wasn't that one of the most beautiful slides into home plate that you've ever seen?

True, it's probably made all the more better because a) it was done by one of our guys and b) it won a ballgame we desperately needed to win.  However, stepping back this morning and watching the highlights again on MLB Network, and that slide was, for any baseball fan, a thing of beauty.

One thing's for certain, these Padres can pitch, and they are not going away any time soon.  I was impressed with their starting pitcher, Mat Latos, who throws 95 gas, then follows up with a killer, 83 change.  No wonder his WHIP entering last night's game was an amazing 0.98.  Indeed, the Padres can pitch, and that will take them well into the post-season.  If they can start hitting the ball with some degree of consistency, they'll be the team to beat.  Yes, Phillies fans, the Padres may well be the team to beat in 2010.

As frustrating as it must be to watch Brad Lidge close out games in person or on TV, for fans like me who live well outside the TV market (Chicago area), and who aren't ponying up the dosh for MLBTV, hearing about Lidge's ninth-inning antics is even more maddening.  A balk?  With the bases loaded?  In the bottom of the ninth inning?  With two outs?

Can Brad get more creative in blowing another save (his sixth in 22 chances already)?  Are you fans getting as tired of his highwire act the past two seasons as I am?  Geez, I love Charlie Manuel as a manager, but how far do you take loyalty when you're two games back of the faltering Braves and you've been munching Rolaids like they were salted peanuts for the past season and two-thirds?

How sad has the closer's situation become when fans and the media get as giddy as a school girl when he pitches a 1-2-3 inning?  Shouldn't that be a ho-hum occurrence?  It is in most cities.  One thing I am glad of, living so far from home:  I don't have to listen to sports talk radio on the morning after another Lidge-a-pa-looza.  I have a feeling, based on my own frustrations, that callers are often just about stark raving mad.

Anyway, a nice win last night.  A needed win last night.  And we made up some ground on Atlanta and put a half-game cushion between us and "the pack" in the Wild Card race.

As an aside, I've been looking for a "sign off" for each post here.  I thought about borrowing Gene Hart's classic, "Good night, and good hockey", modifying it for baseball.  I thought about cute.  Thought about philosphical.  Thought about corny.  Instead, in keeping with the "cheesesteak counter" theme, I'll be signing off each post now with one, simple tagline:

"ORDER UP!"

Swept Away

August 24:  Houston 4, PHILLIES 2 (16 innings)
August 25:  Houston 3, PHILLIES 2
August 26:  Houston 5, PHILLIES 1

The following Hallmark card was left at the Phillies' clubhouse door by the Astros as they left The Bank this afternoon following the first four-game sweep against the Phils since 1999:

"What can we say, when we've ruined your day?
And made you all angry and surly.
How could we make, such a thoughtless mistake,
And cripple your playoff hopes early!"

It is unexpected sweeps like this, against a team as far below .500 as you were above .500, that can start a tailspin from which a team cannot recover.  With the Giants, Cardinals, and Braves sputtering along the last four days, the Phils had a golden opportunity to make up ground in the NL East race, and put some distance between them and everyone else in the Wild Card race.

Alas, the Phillies were bitten by their usual bugaboo ... playing down to the level of their competition.  And so, no ground was made up, no distance gained, as the Phils now face the Trail Of Tears known as a trip out West to face the Dodgers and the NL West-leading Padres (with a stopover on the return trip in Denver to face a Rockies team once again believing in miracle finishes).

What went wrong?  Lots of things.  Bad baserunning.  Lack of timely hitting.  A second-game-of-the-series mismanagement of the bullpen.  Ryan Howard losing his temper so that it would be Roy Oswalt, and not he, who came to bat in the 16th with the chance to be the hero.

Let's go back to Tuesday night ... [editor's note:  I now understand why the "big boy" blogs have a team of contributors and writers ... between lots of stuff to do in real life, a day down with a serious toothache, and work, I've been away for three days.  Bear with me when I "go back" to discuss stuff that's been discussed elsewhere already ad infinitum -- Brien]

It seemed obvious to me, watching via some bonus coverage on MLB Network, that the third-base umpire, Scott Barry, was just daring Howard to lose his cool.  After ringing up Howard on strike two (on a close, but questionable check-swing call), Barry put his hands on his hips in a definite imitation of Howard, then stared, wide-eyed, during the next couple of pitches, at Ryan.  It was player-baiting at its worst. 

Everyone knows that umpires are supposed to simply make their call and move on.  Barry did not, and his mimicry of Howard, followed by his intimidating, "don't you dare show me up" look was unprofessional and should be punished by MLB.

That having been said, Barry was also rather quick to pull the trigger in a game that was already in its 14th inning, and showing no signs of ending anytime soon.  Although he is not responsible for maintaining and tracking the lineups, he had to have known that the Phils had burned up a bunch of pitchers and a just about every position player to get to the 14th inning.  Surely, it could not have been lost on him that there may not have been anyone in the dugout to replace Howard in the event of an ejection.  That he tossed Ryan very quickly leads me to believe he had it in for Ryan after the first check-swing, and then used the second (a call he flat-out blew in his anger and need for revenge) to run Ryan and kill the Phillies' hopes in the inning.

Wednesday, you just knew that J.A. Happ was going to prove to the Phils that they'd made a mistake in trading him.  And when the opposing pitcher is Roy Halladay, well, that's even more incentive to pick up your game and match Doc practically pitch for pitch.  If only Mr. Kendrick could learn a lesson from Mr. Happ on bringing your A-Game.

The bats went silent again.  The baserunning stunk (Ben Francisco, please stop chatting about baserunning with Mr. Werth).  Seven hits and two walks led to two runs, five left on, a man picked off, and a GIDP.  Hoo boy.  At least Mr. Barry was umpiring at second, and unable to be a factor in the game in terms of check swings.

And today.  Seven more left on as the Phils made Wandy Rodriguez look like Dazzy Vance (and, yes, I love old-time baseball references, folks!).

The Phils head into San Diego with a 70-57 record to face the 76-49 Padres, who are holding opponents to a .235 batting average overall.  I'd like to say that the Padres are due for a bad stretch of pitching, but Bud Black has his team focused on the task at hand, and I must say that the Padres are looking like a team that should reach the NLCS at the very least.

The upcoming series could be a playoff preview ... let's hope these previews, unlike the last three days, are worth watching.

The 60-60 Theory

A friend of mine once said that he had figured out something that no one in SABR had figured out.  I assumed he'd meant some arcane statistic like Win Shares Per Dollar Of Salary, or OBP On A Full Moon, or something like that.

No, he said, it was something so basic, he was surprised no one had ever thought of it before.  He called it the Sixty-And-Sixty Theory, and he actually borrowed it from something his high school golf coach had told him.

The golf coach's advice to the young player was that too many golfers go out on the course expecting to play a perfect game.  When that doesn't happen, the coach went on to say, the golfer comes unglued because he starts to focus on the mistake, and not on the next shot.

Instead, a golfer should go out on a course and expect to hit five very terrific shots, and to hit five absolute howlers.  Thus, when the golfer hooks a drive into the woods, he should chalk that up to the five awful shots he already had mentally prepared for.  The key, according to the coach, was what a golfer did with the other 62 shots in his day (assuming the golfer would shoot a 72).  My friend then appied this theory to baseball, and went to Baseball-Reference.com to do some basic research to see if it could also be applied to pennant races in general.

Here's what he found:

In 95% of all seasons played by all teams since 1900, every team in baseball wins 60 games, and loses 60 games (the 1998 Yankees, 1962 Mets, 1984 Tigers, 2001 Mariners, and so on, obviously are exceptions to this).

Taking the golfing theory and applying it to baseball seasons, my friend rationalizes that every team should go into the season knowing that it should win at least 60 games, and that they will lose at least 60 games.  In this way, the theory goes, teams and their fans should only begin to celebrate or panic once their team has won its 60th game of the season, or lost its 60th game of the season.  The theory, applied then to baseball, is that it is what teams do in those other 42 games (the ones in which the outcome is in doubt) that eventually separates playoff teams from everyone else.

The major hole in the theory is, of course, that it is impossible to know which 60 games a team is "guaranteed" to win, and which 60 games a team is "destined" to lose.  But in reality, we, as fans, know them when we see them.

Take Saturday night's game against the Nationals.  It was 3-0 early, and fairly obvious that Kyle Kendrick didn't have his stuff.  As upset as we may have been with the 8-1 loss, that was probably one of those 60 we were going to lose.

But look back at that 10-9 game against the Dodgers a week or so ago.  It was one of The Sixty, until the Phils made a game of it in the eighth.  Now, the outcome wasn't as concrete as it had been an inning earlier.  This was one of The Forty-Two ... games that could go either way, or games that have the potential for a rally or comeback, or games that could easily be blown late.

Again, the theory has a huge hole in it.  But the basic concepts, I would argue, do hold true if you're a player or a fan.  If fans know their team will lose 60 games, the hope is that any loss up to and including #60 would not be treated as if it were the end of the world.  Conversely, folks should be rooting that the club get to its 60th win as fast as possible, because good things happen with every win after #61 (assuming that #60 comes in July).

Right now, the Phils have 70 wins, and only 53 losses.  They've already won 10 of those 42 games leftover after 60-60.  To get to 90 wins, they need only 20 more, with 39 to play.  That means that the Phils can play .500 ball from here on out and still win 90 games.  The only question left is: will 90 wins be enough to make the playoffs?

So, relax, Phillies fans ... the boys still have, if you even remotely believe in the theory, seven games that they will most definitely lose between now and the end of the season.  It's what they now do with the other 32 games remaining where the outcome is in doubt that will determine this race in 2010.

Manager Of The Year?

Look around the National League, and you'll find four, built-in candidates for the Manager of the Year:  San Diego's Bud Black, Cincinnati's Dusty Baker, Atlanta's Bobby Cox, and San Francisco's Bruce Bochy.  On the surface, all four seem deserving of the honor because, quite frankly, with the exception of Atlanta, folks weren't really sold on the Pads, Reds, and Giants.

The problem with the way that the Manager of the Year is usually decided is that, many times, it's awarded to a manager whose team wasn't picked by the media (who, of course, vote on the award) to finish in playoff contention or in the playoffs themselves.  So, in some seasons, it's more like a "Surprise Team of the Year" award, given because it must have been the manager's keen skill that turned a bunch of guys no one held much respect for into a playoff-caliber team.

In other seasons, the Manager of the Year is the guy whose team was so dominant that, by golly, it must have been that manager's cool guidance and strategy that gave the team the killer instinct to so dominate the competition.  So, in other seasons, it's more akin to a "Team of the Year" award, but given to the manager, instead.

Rarely, however, is a manager given the award for the very reason he holds his job: managing a major league baseball team.  In 2010, with all the hoopla about Cox's Farewell Tour, and the surprise showings by those aforementioned Padres, Reds, and Giants, one manager's skill at managing his ball club may be over-shadowed, and completely ignored.

Yep, we're talking about Charlie Manuel.

It wasn't that long ago (2006, to be exact) that Phillies fans were very much against the quiet, unassuming manager from a town so far in the boonies that they have to import sunshine.  Charlie wasn't a smooth-talker.  Sounded more like some rube than one of the premier hitting coaches in all of baseball.  Fans just didn't take to him.  They wanted someone who looked, and sounded, and acted like ... well ... anyone but Charlie.

But ol' Chollie (as many fans have come to call him) wasn't as dumb as his speech or his mannerisms might have seemed.  Seems he knew a thing or two about what it takes to make a ballplayer want to give 100% every night, all 162 of them.  And when Phillies fans finally went for good ol' Chollie, they went for him in a big way.  Now, it seems there's almost nothing he can do to ever tarnish his reputation.  You can be sure that, for as long as he lives, Charlie Manuel will never pay for another drink in Philadelphia.

And it is that intelligence, that charisma, that persuasive way of his that has kept your Philadelphia Phillies in the hunt all these long months.  For any other manager, the spate of injuries to All-Star players would have crushed his team's spirit.  Just look at how the Mets imploded in 2009 when they lost Reyes, Beltran, Putz, and others.  *Jerry* Manuel couldn't keep Humpty Dumpty together.

Yet, here we are, six weeks away from season's end, with the Phils breathing down the necks of the pesky Braves, who will not go away.  How is it that the Phils have been able to hang in there by the skins of their teeth?

Charlie Manuel.

He started the season with Romero and Lidge out of his bullpen.  Less than two weeks into the season, his All-Star shortstop is out for a month.  He loses Carlos Ruiz to a concussion.  He loses Chase Utley to a thumb ligament.  Brian Schneider, the backup catcher, goes down.  He loses Ryan Howard to an ankle sprain.  Loses Shane Victorino to another strain.

The team doesn't hit from mid-May to early-July.  A 24-13 record turns into a 49-46 record, treading water and looking up at two teams in the NL East.  Joe Blanton looks like he should be pitching in the local slo-pitch league.  Kyle Kendrick is about as consistent as lumpy oatmeal.

And just when things were looking up, when Roy Oswalt joined the club in a trade, Jamie Moyer goes down, forcing Kendrick back into the rotation when he was just about to get sent back down to Lehigh Valley.

Through it all, however, the Phils refused to quit.  Refused to let the injuries and the inconsistency drive them where the Mets resided last year.  Charlie Manuel was the guy who kept the club's nose to the grindstone.  Kept reminding the club that if they played hard, and worked hard, and fought hard alongside each other, they would start to succeed and they would start to win, and then, the rest of the league would fear them.

Imagine Larry Bowa in charge of these guys at this time.  He would have believed he could scream and shout wins out of this bunch.  Dallas Green, for all he is revered for, could have upset all the post-game buffet tables he wanted, and would have lost this team back before the All-Star break.

But Charlie, quiet, simple, unassuming Charlie, has these Phillies in the hunt because he kept telling them to believe in the things that have gotten this club back-to-back pennants.  Because he has them believing like they did in 2007 when they did the improbable.

And because he has managed, quite literally, to keep this team, with such a huge target on its back, in the race in spite of every injury and inconsistency, Charlie Manuel, more than the four others I mentioned earlier, is the man who, in a perfect world, should be the unanimous choice for National League Manager of the Year.

Risky Business

With the arrest of Phillies' prospect Tyson Gilles on cocaine charges in Florida, I cannot help but wonder if Phillies fans back home aren't burying their heads under a towel, a la Curt Schilling.

While Gilles certainly appears guilty (when you get out of a seat in a patrol car and leave behind a bag of white powder that tests positive for cocaine, you're certainly not looking innocent) and will eventually have his day in court, incidents like these only serve to remind fans, players, and management that running a big league organization is risky business.

Take the phenom of the early 1990s, Brien Taylor, drafted by the Yankees in the first round.  Now, I was rooting for him to make it, not because I'm a Yankee fan in secret, but because he spelled his first name the same way I spell mine.  It would have been kinda cool to see a big leaguer with my first name, just as I do root for big leaguers with my last name (even though people who know me would never assume athletic genes in my family).

Anyway, Taylor had great stuff, and had put up some good numbers in the minors.  But ... he got into a bar fight (there's dispute on whether he was involved, or merely trying to break up the fight), and screwed up his shoulder.  After the surgery, he lost his velocity, and some of his command.  He'd become mortal.  And he never pitched an inning in the big leagues.

Such is the risk teams take, daily, on human beings they really don't have 100 percent control over.  Like Taylor.  Like Gilles.  Managers can set all kinds of curfews; players break them.  Managers can have team rules; players try to circumvent them whenever they are able.  Leagues can suspend you for 50 or 100 games for violating a substance policy; players still find ways to get suspended.

Yes, Phillies fans, we gave up Cliff Lee to get this guy, among others.  And that's what makes every trade for prospects "hurt" ... when the established guy has a great year, and your prospects don't develop, or, in this case, practically disqualify themselves from being able to compete and contribute.

And as long as there is baseball, there will always be trades in which established guys are traded for a the same kind of players that make fans say, "Who *are* those guys?".  Where fans need to hold back in their criticism of a general manager is when something like this happens.  Ruben had all the info that the Mariners had on this guy, that MLB Security had on this guy ... and he still winds up being (and I'll admit I'm playing judge and jury here) a coke head.

Proof-positive that running a club is risky business ... makes you wonder if, under the pressure, Ruben doesn't shut his office door and have his secretary hold his calls while he strips down to his underwear and socks, pops on the Ray-Bans, cranks up some Segar, and slides back and forth across the office floor.