Philadelphia Phillies Retrospective: A New Way of Thinking

I was born in 1970. I was six when I started to understand what Major League Baseball was. Both grandfathers, my mother, and my father were all Phillies fans. So were two uncles, three aunts, and a great-grandmother who would sit in a broken recliner listening to the games on the radio. 

The Phillies were a religion in my house. Games on TV were appointments that were not to be missed.

I knew Channel 17 was dial position 13 on our television in the living room. I remember contemplating why other teams allowed the Phillies to set up a pregame show in their ballpark (the fact that the pregame show was shot in a studio in Philadelphia never occurred to me).

I thought Bob Bradley was a hero, Harry Kalas a god, and Andy Musser was something to be suffered through until it was Richie Ashburn's turn at the mic.

Most of all, I believed the Phillies of Schmidt, Carlton, Bowa, and Boone were the greatest team ever to take the field.  The Big Red Machine, Tommy Lasorda's Dodgers, and Papa Stargell's Pirates meant nothing to me. 

The American League was the loser league, filled with teams sporting funny-looking uniforms.

The Phillies won the division when I was six, seven, and eight. I cried when they were eliminated in '79. I cried again in 1980 for a different reason. I remember clutching my radio during Game Five of the '81 division series, wishing with all my might that the Phils would erase the 3-0 deficit.

Another World Series in 1983 only served to confirm my hypothesis that the Phillies were the team to root for.

When I was 13 years old, I thought it would always be like this. I thought the Phillies would be perennial division winners and World Series threats. I thought that Steve Carlton would go on striking out hitters, Schmidt would go on hitting home runs, and Gary Maddox would keep on making amazing catches.

How was I to know that, with the exception of 1993, the next 25 years of my life would be filled with baseball misery? 

How was I to know that Schmidt would be replaced by Rick Schu and Charlie Hayes?  That Carlton would give way to Pat Combs and Bruce Ruffin? That the dugout ruled by men like Danny Ozark, Dallas Green, and Paul Owens would be turned over to the likes of John Felske, Lee Elia, and Nick Leyva.

Yes, I always thought it would be this way. So now, on the eve of the seventh NLCS of my lifetime, I take nothing for granted. I am going to cherish every pitch, every play, and every at-bat. My belief funnel is full again. All is right with the world. (Current bank crisis excluded.)

The ironic thing is that I have an eight-year-old who has watched the Phillies win back-to-back division titles. From the time he started following the club with me at age five, the Phillies have been a pretty good team. He said at dinner tonight, "Don't be sad if the Dodgers beat us. There is always next year." 

Boy, oh boy...My son has a lot to learn.