Everybody has their own stories of what Harry Kalas meant to them, and people a lot more talented than me have already put those stories into words. All I’ll say is this: Harry understood the game of baseball better than anyone I’ve ever heard, and my childhood would not have been the same without him.
Like most of you, I didn’t watch the Phils game last night. There was that minor distraction of the Flyers breaking faces across the state, so my attention was understandably elsewhere. I was able to catch the five-run third, though, and there was one moment that, for me, the Philly fanbase deserves a gold star for.
Freddy Galvis was at the plate with two outs. John Mayberry, Jr. had just popped out to second and you could hear the loud groan from the stands as if they were thinking, “There goes our chance.” This was understandable, as Freddy was 1-for-14 on the season, with the majority of those 13 outs made by weak groundballs to short and second base. I include myself in this, because I almost changed the channel.
I was watching the game with my friend and after the first pitch, he cocked and ear towards the TV and asked if I heard something. I said no. The second pitch came, and still nothing. And then the stadium erupted. “FRED-DY! FRED-DY!” was all you could hear, over and over again, right on cue.
Amongst friends, I spend a lot of time bashing Philly sports fans, because there is a large minority that deserve to be bashed. I don’t like to use the term bandwagon, because frankly I don’t care how long you’ve been a fan of a team as long as you enjoy the game and you’re somewhat knowledgable, but a lot of Philly sports fans aren’t. This minority is generally what we hate about other teams fans. The fans at Citizens Bank Park last night are not included in that group.
None of us are professional athletes, so we can’t know what sort of effect having 45,000+ fans chanting your name at the top of their lungs has, but it’s fun to imagine what was going through young Galvis’ head. The kid is 22-years-old and made his major league debut for one of sports’ most demanding markets six days prior. He hasn’t exactly lit up the world at the plate, although he’s been fantastic in the field. His confidence is probably on the way to being shot. Walking up to the plate, facing one of the best pitchers in baseball, he had to be absolutely terrified. I’m sure he’s heard the stories about Phillie fans. We’re typically not the most patient bunch. He knew this was his shot.
And then he hears the cheers. Deafeningly loud, filling every square inch of the ballpark. How good must that feel? Sure, you’re facing Josh Johnson, and the crowd is probably going to be disappointed and forget all about those cheers if you fail. But for those 30 seconds or a minute, you’ve got the entire city pulling for you. Talk about a welcome. Talk about giving a kid confidence.
After he roped the double and I was done screaming my face off, man, I had goosebumps. I was just so happy and relieved for the kid. It wasn’t about “deserving it” or “earning it with all his hard work.” It’s because he’s over a year younger than me, and I can relate to how he feels in that situation, the feeling of being completely overwhelmed by something you don’t think you can do, and then passing with flying colors with the unexpected help of a friend, or in this case, 45,000 of them.
So for all that bashing I do of Philly fans, last night was another reminder of why I keep watching. The game itself was nice, a reminder to the team that they’re major league ballplayers and that they’re actually allowed to hit if they want to. But the best part about these games is on the personal level, about how 45,000 strangers can turn a college-aged kid who’s probably doubting all of his abilities and wondering whether he can cut it in baseball’s most demanding league into one with all the confidence in the world. He’s just a kid with a stick trying to hit a ball, just like he’s done his whole life.
There’s going to be other times where Freddy isn’t going to get that hit, where he’ll ground out weakly to second base and the crowd will groan as if they expected it all along. But last night, Freddy came through, and Philadelphia loved him for it. It’s a moment I’m going to remember for a long time, and I bet Freddy will too.
Blow it up. All of it.
Trade Hamels. Take back the extension from Rollins. Trade Dom Brown for prospects. Pack it up. Good season, let’s go eat.
The first four games of the 2012 campaign haven’t exactly gone according to plan for the Phils. Three losses, two of which were winnable games blown by the bullpen after stellar starts from Clifton and the Vanimal, and all of eight runs scored. Through four games, they’ve done nothing but confirm what everybody knew: aces gon’ ace, offense gon’ sit there and watch.
BUT. It’s four games. The Phillies have never played well at PNC. Even with as bad as the Pirates have been for the past, oh, two decades, the Phils have a lower winning percentage in Pittsburgh than any other city over that span. Hamels gave up 6 earned runs in 2.2 innings in his first start last year, and then gave up two or less in 15 of his next 19. Baseball is cyclical, and our guys just happened to start on the wrong side of one.
The Phillies knew what they were doing when they assembled one of the greatest pitching rotations of all time last year. They knew the offensive core was getting older and more and more injury-prone, but they thought they could win with a starting three of Doc, Cliff and Cole. That has not changed. Phillies starting pitchers have given up five earned runs in 25 1/3 innings. This is a team built to win by giving up less runs than their opponents, not by outscoring them.
So check it. Doc Halladay is the best starting pitcher on the cot-damn planet, plus those Lee, Hamels and Papelbon guys are pretty solid as well. The runs will come, especially when Ryan Howard, Chase Utley and Domonic Brown (we’ll talk about that last one in another post) come back.
The first four games have been frustrating, yes, but before you go all OMG SEASON OVER E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES like an insufferable moron remember this: there’s a lot of baseball left to be played, and Ruben Amaro will committ seppuku before he lets his creation miss the playoffs.
And oh yeah. The Phillies started 2-4 in 2008. That team is the red-headed stepchild to this one in terms of talent, and I’d say that year ended up pretty decently. Deep breaths. In Doc We Trust.
Andddddd we’re back! Greetings baseball fans. Good to see you. I’ll keep this short, because hot damn baseball season is back in just over an hour.
If you look closely, you can see your soul in his eyes.
Charlie’s Manual has returned to satiate all your carnal Phillies needs. We’ll laugh. We’ll cry. We’ll cry while laughing at the Mets. We’re looking forward to 2012, and we hope you’ll join us.
Go Phillies.
