Hot Corner Gold Glover

Scott Rolen is the greatest defensive 3rd baseman that I have ever seen in my lifetime.

For any real fan of baseball, and especially for those who both know me and my passion for what I regularly call "The Greatest Game That God Ever Invented", you'll know that is no small statement for me to make.

It is also a fairly controversial statement. After all, this is the town where Phillies legendary 3rd baseman and Baseball Hall of Famer Michael Jack Schmidt played for all of his nearly 18 big league seasons, and I got to see him in every one of those seasons.

It is also controversial because my lifetime takes in the majority of the career of another Baseball Hall of Famer, the legendary Baltimore Orioles 3rd sacker Brooks Robinson. During their careers, Schmitty was a 10-time Gold Glover at 3rd base, including 9 in a row from 1976-1984 and Brooks won the Gold Glove a record 16 times at the hot corner, all consecutively from 1960-1975.

In fairness, it's difficult for me to comment on any first-hand witnessing of Robinson's greatness. I didn't really begin following baseball until the 1970 season when I was 8 years old and Brooks was playing at age 33 in his 15th MLB season. Even after that, in those pre-cable TV days the only time I got to see him was on the occasional Game of the Week or other national TV broadcast such as the All-Star Game or the playoffs. I will toss in this caveat, that my pick Rolen has a ways to go to match the number of Gold Gloves won by Brooks Robinson.

I did get to watch Mike Schmidt's entire career here in Philly. I was 10 years old when he broke in for a September 1972 call-up, and 27 years old when he retired early in the 1989 season. I probably saw Schmitty play in more than a hundred games at Veteran's Stadium over the years, and in hundreds more on television. He was incredible at the hot corner, a human vacuum cleaner with a cannon for an arm, tremendous instincts, and uncommon athleticism. He could charge a slow roller and make the bare-handed pickup and throw in one motion play as well as anyone who ever played the game.

My opinion on Rolen is no knock on Schmitty, who in my books is simply edged out just slightly, and who comes in 2nd out of the hundreds that I have seen play 3rd base.
 Schmidt was certainly a stronger offensive player, and was just as good a baserunner. He is the greatest all-around 3rd baseman that I ever saw play, and in fact is the greatest ballplayer to ever don a Phillies uniform, period.

I also got to see a number of other great 3rd baseman over the years. Some of those who stand out for their glove work include Doug Rader, Craig Nettles, Buddy Bell, Robin Ventura, and Terry Pendleton. And in today's game, both Evan Longoria of Tampa Bay and Ryan Zimmerman of Washington continue the baseball tradition of great athletes at the hot corner making unbelievable plays. Given health, those last two guys will have a bunch of Gold Gloves to their credit before their careers are finished a decade or more from now.

Zimmerman won his first of what many assumed would be a long line of consecutive National League Gold Glove Award honors following the 2009 season. But he was at least temporarily slowed down when the 2010 recipients were announced this past week. When the 2010 NL Gold Glove Award winners were announced, it was Scott Rolen who was honored with his 8th career award.

Some Phillies fans will never, ever give Rolen his due. That is somewhat understandable if you know the dynamics of the player's career and his relationship with the town's passionate fans. Scott Rolen broke in with the Phils at the tail end of the 1996 season. In 1997 he was the NL Rookie of the Year, but played for a club that won just 68 games, finished 33 games out of first place, and drew just 1.4 million fans, the lowest franchise attendance total since 1973.

Rolen was an undeniable talent at that point. The 6'4, 240-lb Midwest kid from Indiana played with passion and athleticism. His bat boomed with the promise of a perennial 30-homerun season hitter. He ran the bases as well as any player in the big leagues. And man, could he play defense. He more overpowered the position than played with grace and fluidity. He attacked balls, dove for them, charged them, overwhelmed them. He was the future in Philly, and in his 2nd full season of 1998 won the first of his Gold Glove Award honors.

The problem, however, was that Rolen was mostly alone in Philadelphia as a winner. He and pitcher Curt Schilling often appeared to be the only two players who played with both obvious passion for the game combined with excellence on the diamond. Many fans, including myself, embraced them as the two beacons of light on the team, the two biggest reasons to go out to the ballpark and spend your good money on the franchise in those days.

Rolen's first break-in season of 1996 through the 2000 season resulted in five years in which the club finished a combined 106 games below the .500 mark, and the frustration began to grow on the young 3rd sacker. He added another Gold Glove in 2000, but had watched that summer as the team traded away it's lone other All-Star caliber player and it's only legitimate starting pitcher when Schilling was dealt to Arizona. Rolen, and the club's increasingly disgruntled fan base, began to question management and ownership's commitment to fielding a winning ballclub.

Then in 2001, things finally looked like they might be changing. The 2001 Phillies led by Rolen, rightfielder Bobby Abreu, and a speedy young shortstop named Jimmy Rollins battled for the NL East title right down to the final weeks of the season. On the emotional evening of Monday, September 17th, Rolen homered twice and led the Phillies to victory in a first-place showdown with the Atlanta Braves in front of a frenzied full house at The Vet that included my wife and I in attendance on baseball's first night back following the 9/11 terrorist attacks. The club ultimately fell short, but won 86 games, and Rolen was rewarded with his 3rd career Gold Glove.

That 2001 highlight season in Philadelphia would prove to be the final one for the 3rd baseman. Despite the team showing it could begin to move forward and compete on the field, the front office continued to wring it's hands, doing nothing to add to the talent base. Schilling had won a World Series in 2001 with the Diamondbacks, and Rolen saw nothing happening in Philly that pointed towards the same happening here any time soon. His displeasure towards ownership and management got more and more vocal, and he demanded a trade, preferably to a franchise market closer to his Midwestern roots.

Just before the 2002 trade deadline, the Phillies finally cut their ties, trading Rolen to the Saint Louis Cardinals for three players, including Placido Polanco. The Cardinals loved Rolen, and he loved them. He signed an 8-year, $90 million contract at the end of 2002 season which saw him selected to his first All-Star team, win his first Silver Slugger as the best offensive 3rd baseman in the game, and finally his 4th Gold Glove Award. He won All-Star and Gold Glove honors in both 2005 and 2006 as well, and finally reached the ultimate when the 2006 Cardinals won the World Series.

Many here in Philly will always hold a grudge against Rolen for wanting out of town, and for going public with that sentiment. Turn your back on us, and many of us will not only hope you get your wish to leave, but also will happily drive you out or pay your way out, and will never let you forget that you asked to leave for the rest of your career or life. The usual media suspects in town did a nice job at the time, and some have continued the idea, of portraying Rolen as a crybaby quitter. To me, Rolen was exactly what Schilling was - a winner stuck in a loser organization that made no commitment to win for years, and that was showing no signs of doing it any time in the near future. But instead of rallying around their stars, many of the fans and in the media turned on them in spite of the team's apparent commitment to losing.

So Rolen and Schilling both moved along with their All-Star careers and won their World Series away from Philadelphia. For Rolen, the 2007 season was a lost one as injury woes particularly to his shoulder wrecked his year from the outset. Manager Tony LaRussa began to question Rolen's commitment to the game, questioning the repeated injury problems. Finally in January of 2008, Rolen was traded to the Toronto Blue Jays. He spent another mostly injury-marred season and a half in Toronto, never able to return to more than flashes of his early career brilliance. Finally at the trade deadline in 2009, Rolen was dealt to Cincinnati.

It was a curious move at the time, with many wondering why the young, rebuilding Reds would take on a player apparently on the decline at the trade deadline during a year in which they were not in contention. But Reds management believed that they had an up-and-coming team, believed in Rolen's talent and quiet leadership-by-example approach, and saw a perfect fit. They were rewarded with a tremendous comeback 2010 season in which a rejuvenated Scott Rolen helped lead the Reds back into the playoffs for the first time in more than a decade, and for which he was rewarded with that 8th Gold Glove.

For any Phils fan with an honest memory and who saw Scott Rolen play during those first five years of his career here in Philadelphia, and who is a baseball fan able to appreciate what he did the next few years at Saint Louis, and who got to enjoy this past comeback season with the Reds, you simply must acknowledge what the man is between the lines of a baseball diamond.

Many can successfully argue the cases for Mike Schmidt and Brooks Robinson being better defensive 3rd basemen than Scott Rolen. They will point to more Gold Glove Award honors and will fall back on Hall of Fame careers for those players. I won't spend a lot of time arguing, because I truly appreciate those two men and their place in the game, and I honestly value their greatness, including as defensive players at 3rd base.

But again, I have watched this game now for over four decades. I have seen great ones come and go. I have seen good ones shoot onto the scene and have a great season or two or three. I have seen tremendous offensive players have mediocre defensive seasons and still be rewarded with Gold Glove honors based more on offensive prowess or past reputations. For me, Scott Rolen is the best glove, arm, and athlete that I have ever seen at the hot corner in all my years of enjoying this great game, and I will take that opinion to my grave.

Harry the K is Outta Here

"Once there was a silly old ant, who thought he could move a rubber tree plant. Everyone knows an ant can't move a rubber tree plant. But he had high hopes. He had high hopes. He had high apple pie in the sky hopes." There is perhaps no more wonderful, in-character moment in the adult life of Harry Kalas than that of him standing in a beer and champagne-drenched Phillies locker room in the fall of 1993. The Phils had just accomplished what many thought impossible. What is still perhaps the most beloved group of Phillies in the franchise' long history, a team that featured such characters as John Kruk, Mitch Williams, Lenny Dykstra, Curt Schilling and Darren Daulton, had just defeated the powerful and favored Atlanta Braves to win the National League pennant one year after finishing in last place. Harry stood in the middle of the trainer's room with the players all gathered around, everyone soaked with that bubbly and brew, and led them in a rousing version of the song "High Hopes" that someone had the great vision to actually record for posterity. The scene in the bowels of Veteran's Stadium can be viewed on any number of video products released from that magical season. It is my absolute favorite Harry Kalas moment of all-time. The pure joy in Harry, the obvious love that he had for the Phillies organization, and the particular affection that he had for that group of players was on full display. Last week, Harry Kalas began his 39th season as the lead broadcaster for the Philadelphia Phillies radio and television broadcasts. It all started with a game in April of 1971 that christened the shiny new Veteran's Memorial Stadium in South Philadelphia. On Monday afternoon it ended fittingly at a ballpark. Harry was prepping for last night's broadcast of the Phillies game at Nationals Park in Washington, D.C. when he collapsed in the press box. At the age of 73, the man who had become known affectionately as 'Harry the K' and respectfully as 'The Voice' had reached the end of his days. My own love affair with the team traces back to that very 1971 season. As a 9-year old, I began to be infatuated with the game and the team that had just moved from North Philly down to almost being in the shadow of my own home in South Philly. My friends and I would ride our bikes that spring up on to the nearly completed but not yet opened Delaware Expressway, now known simply as 'I-95', from our homes in the Two Street neighborhood and around to the shining new jewel of towering white columns that was 'The Vet'. We would ride around the concourse of the stadium, hitting full speed before exiting off one of the many long, sloping ramps that would lead tens of thousands of fans up to the entrances just weeks from then. The thrill of those rides was as great a rush as any 9-year old could ever hope for, or so I thought in the days just before my Phillies affair would begin. My dad took my brother and I to the Opening Day festivities for the Vet, and there we got to see the magical dancing water fountain in centerfield, the gigantic unfurling American colonial flag, the fan-friendly baseline picnic areas, and the huge, smiling faces of a couple of characters, Phil and Phyllis, who would fire off a cannon to celebrate every Phillies homerun in those early Vet days. I was hooked, and I began to listen to Phils games on the radio, something that for every year of my life growing up I had already heard my own grandfather and many of the older men of the neighborhood doing while sitting out on their porches on almost every summer evening. These men had listened to the games as they were broadcast from old Connie Mack Stadium by the legendary By Saam and Bill Campbell, and a relatively young, recently retired, and popular former Phillie named Richie Ashburn. But for the new era now opening at The Vet, the team wanted a new fresh face and voice, and so they lured the 35-year old Harry Kalas away from the Houston Astros organization where he had been the on-air voice since 1963. When I turned on my little transistor radio that April and began to follow the Phils, it was Harry's voice that greeted me, as it would for every single Phillies season over nearly four more decades. In those early years the Phillies quickly began to become strong competitors in the National League, culminating in the club winning three straight Eastern Division titles from 1976-78. They had some veteran pitchers such as Steve Carlton and Tug McGraw, and talented young players like Larry Bowa, Bob Boone, Greg Luzinski, and most importantly a young, slugging 3rd baseman named Mike Schmidt. Over nearly two decades, Harry Kalas would develop a strong relationship with the Phillies Hall of Famer and greatest-ever player, highlighted by the development of a legendary and iconic homerun call that Phils fans would hear across two generations: "Swing, and a long drive, deep left field....Outta Here! Homerun, Michael Jack Schmidt!" It was a call that every Phillies fan would learn to imitate as well. You can stick a microphone in the face of almost any Phillies fan and get them to do their 'Harry homerun call' impression. Harry also developed an intense friendship with the man with whom he shared the broadcast booth for 28 seasons, the man who he simply called "His Whiteness", Rich Ashburn. The on-air chemistry that the two men had rivaled their off-field friendship, and this came out clearly in their banter and game-calling. When 'Whitey' passed away following the calling of a game late in the 1997 season, no one mourned more deeply than Harry, and for the rest of his career there would be fond, sentimental references to Whitey woven into many Phils' broadcasts. As many fans did, I had my own moment with Harry Kalas. It came during a late-90's season bus trip that some of my family members had taken to see the Phillies play the Baltimore Orioles at the beautiful new Camden Yards ballpark. We had rented out a party room for some pre-game food and drinks, and at one point I had to use the men's room which was down the hall from our party room. As I exited that men's room, there walking out of the doorway of another party room at the same moment was none other than Harry the K himself. I was startled at seeing the man so closeup, and he seemed startled just from the timing of our entry into the hallway at the same moment. I just blurted out "Hey, Harry!" and his reply was something that I can still hear ringing in my ears today: "Hey, How are ya?" in that typically friendly but signature voice as he ducked into the bathroom that I had just left. Harry Kalas had just personally addressed me with that voice. As stupid as it sounds to some of you, it was one of the most memorable moments of my life. That's how big a Phillies fan, and a Harry Kalas fan, I had become, and still am to this very day. In the fall of 1980, the Phillies gave their fans what they had been waiting for over a century to see, a championship. But for we Phillies fans there was something missing. The rules of Major League Baseball at that time did not allow hometown broadcasters to call the games on radio or television, and so there were no broadcasts of Harry Kalas and Richie Ashburn calling those games in a live format for our fans. That lost opportunity made what happened in 1993 with those 'Macho Row' Phillies even more special, hearing Harry and Whitey get to call the World Series games together. But the Phillies lost that series in dramatic fashion thanks to the walkoff homerun by Toronto's Joe Carter, and so Harry still had never called a championship. Through any number of tough seasons in the late 1990's you wondered whether an aging Kalas would ever get that opportunity again. In 2002, Harry was honored with the Ford Frick Award for baseball's immortal broadcasters, and subsequently with enshrinement in the baseball Hall of Fame, joining both his longtime Phillies pals Whitey and Schmitty among the games legends. With a coming new ballpark the Phillies management and ownership began to loosen the purse strings and bring in some new talent like Jim Thome and Billy Wagner, and the team began to win again as one of baseball's most beautiful facilities opened at Citizens Bank Park. After a couple of seasons a group of young homegrown players like Jimmy Rollins, Pat Burrell, Cole Hamels, Ryan Madson, Ryan Howard, and Chase Utley finally brought the Philadelphia Phillies back to the World Series stage. On the night of October 29th, in the culmination of a game that had taken two days thanks to weather conditions, the Phillies were just one strike away from finally winning another World Series title when Harry finally was able to make the live call: "One strike away; nothing-and-two, the count to Hinske. Fans on the their feet; rally towels are being waved. Brad Lidge stretches. The 0-2 pitch — swing and a miss, struck him out! The Philadelphia Phillies are 2008 World Champions of baseball!" It was a moment long overdue, and a shining moment that Harry Kalas deserved as much as anyone who has ever broadcast any sporting event. This past Sunday afternoon, my wife and I were in our car, driving home from having spent Easter Sunday down the shore with some family members. We are both big Phillies fans, and got to enjoy both that unforgettable 1993 season and World Series heartbreak and the 2008 World Series victory celebration together. On the ride home we were enjoying the 39th season of listening to Harry Kalas call Phillies games, as the Phils put the finishing touches on a victory over the Rockies out in Colorado. As we heard Harry call it: "Bouncing ball to Chase Utley, this should be the game... Chase throws him out, and that will be it as the Phil's win 2 out of 3 here at Coors Field, coming back to take this one by a score of 7 to 5." Little did we know that it would be the final time that we would here Harry close out a Phillies game. There is an old saying that all good things must come to an end. Every one of those 1971 Phillies, the 1980 world champions, and the 1993 NL champs saw the ending of their careers come. Richie 'Whitey' Ashburn saw the end of his life come, as did Phillies legends like John Vukovich and Tug McGraw. This one carries perhaps the deepest sting and hurt, more so than even with the Tugger himself, who was a truly beloved figure in town. For almost four decades, Harry Kalas came into all of our living rooms and our cars, into our places of work, our back yards, our front porches, and down on to the beaches with us. He brought a magical, story-telling quality to Philadelphia Phillies baseball games with a unique signature of a voice, and with a love and passion for both the team and the game that if you listened long enough made you incapable of turning it off before falling in love with it as well. Now, Harry is back reunited with his good friend Whitey, calling games in heaven, which gives me something even more to look forward to in the hereafter. The words 'legend' and 'icon' are tossed around sometimes with too much ease. 'Harry the K' was truly an iconic legend here in Philadelphia that will never, ever be forgotten. And the great thing is that we have so much of it recorded. We will hear that voice at various times over the rest of our lives. Perhaps the best way to end this tribute would be with one personal indulgence. Far from being disrespectful, I believe the man that I met in that Camden Yards hallway a decade ago would love it. One final call, this time for Harry instead of by him: "It's a long life, deep affection left at the field, Harry Kalas is....Outta Here!"

How to Handle the 'Steroid Era' in Baseball

I wanted to wait a bit before fully forming and stating my opinion after last week's announcement by Alex Rodriguez of the New York Yankees that he had previously used steroids to enhance his on-field performance. I've been asked about it by a number of people already who know of my life-long love affair with the game. Most of them come with their opinions already made up on the issue. Many of them appear to be knee-jerk reactions and spoon-fed opinions that sound as if they've been developed by too much listening to radio and television commentators. I've largely stayed away from that kind of editorial on the issue, and so the opinion that I am going to give comes purely from my mind and my heart. I think that what baseball should do in regards to records set and player performance during the so-called 'Steroid Era' is largely this: nothing. No one ever put an asterisk next to Hank Aaron's homerun record and said "If only World War II wouldn't have happened, Ted Williams would have this record." When Aaron and Mays were taking their runs at the all-time homerun record as it was held by Babe Ruth, no one suggested putting an asterisk next to Ruth's record and said "If Ruth had to face the great black and Latino pitchers and keep the same travel schedule as today's stars, he would never have come close to 714." The fact is that baseball has come through a number of different eras during its long development into our national pastime. Many of these eras saw dynamic shifts in the way that the game was played which had dramatic effects on the games collective and players individual records. No one in their right mind can possibly argue that players such as Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Ty Cobb, Honus Wagner, Cy Young, Walter Johnson, Christy Matthewson, Jimmy Foxx and all of the other white players who played through and set their records during the era of 'whites only' baseball could possibly have amassed those same statistics had the Major Leagues been integrated. These players would, of course, have still been superstars. They would have still put up strong numbers. But having to face a largely expanded skillful talent pool day-in and day-out? There is no way that with the increased black and Latino competition that their numbers would be quite as high as they are today. In the days when I was growing up with the game during the entirety of the 1970's all seemed innocent to me. Men caught, threw and hit balls, ran the bases, and played the game with love and passion. Here in Philadelphia, my beloved Phillies began to win while I was still a young teen, and continued that winning for years. The players on that team were my idols: Mike Schmidt, Steve Carlton, Tug McGraw, Pete Rose, Larry Bowa, Bob Boone, Gary Maddox and so many others. Their sweat, sacrifice, and sometimes their blood were left on the field. They played the game hard everyday, from city to city, all throughout the spring and summer and into early fall. Little did I know that these men had a glass bowl in the middle of their locker room containing tiny colored pills. These 'uppers' of 'greenies' as many called them were simply illegal narcotics that were available and used almost as if they were a bowl of M&M's candies. Many of the players of that era could not have performed at those high levels over that time period under those conditions without the help that these performance-adhancing drugs provided them. Unlike many people who look at the game from the outside, I find two of the most unlikeable superstars of this recent steroid period to be somewhat sympathetic characters. Mark McGwire came out of college in the late 1980's as simply a longballing beast. He was raw power, bashing 49 homeruns during his first full season of 1988 to win the A.L. Rookie of the Year Award. Over his first seven seasons, Big Mac slammed a total of 220 homeruns. He was just 28 years old at that point, just entering the prime of his career when he would make large amounts of money and put up the numbers that would establish his legend for all-time. And then the wheels fell off as his health deteriorated under the strain of a bad back. In 1993 & 1994, McGwire missed the vast majority of each season due to back troubles. He finally began to get some control over the problems in 1995, and it is my opinion that he used steroids to overcome the back troubles. I believe that Mark McGwire saw what was supposed to be a glorious career going up in smoke and made a deal with the devil to get back to health and his former superstar status. It worked, and as the results got better and better, McGwire got into the usage more and more, bulking himself up into the obvious physical monster that he eventually became when he broke the single-season homerun record in 1998 by hitting 70 bombs that year. I believe it was during that same summer of 1998 that the problems began for Barry Bonds. I believe that Bonds, all massive talent and massive ego, looked around at the pure adulation given that summer to McGwire and Sammy Sosa as they chased the homerun record and wondered why he, the greatest player in the game, was not afforded that same adulation. I believe that Bonds saw performance-adhancing drugs as necessary to catch-up to the new production levels that the game was now embracing, and so he jumped in head-first. The resulting combination of Bonds natural gifts and the drugs was something that the game had never before witnessed. Bonds broke McGwire's record by hitting 73 homers in 2001, and then broke Aaron's career mark in 2007, leaving his new career homerun record sitting at 762. McGwire began using steroids because he simply could not have physically continued playing the game without them. Bonds used because he believed that his true greatness would not be acknowledged without them. In both cases the players used during a period when these substances were not against the rules of baseball as relates to substance abuse. Like Bonds, I believe that Alex Rodriguez saw what was going on around him in the game and decided to see what levels he could achieve if he too tried these substances. His results were remarkable as well, and so the usage continued. Someone decided to take a fun nickname given to him once by Bowa of 'A-Fraud' and run with it. Really now, is there anyone out there who does not believe that Bonds, ARod and Roger Clemens would not be among the game's greatest all-time players in any event? You can probably plug in many other names across the game over the past decade and a half, from Rafael Palmeiro to Juan Gonzalez, from Sammy Sosa to Mike Piazza, and any number of others as users of one substance or another. If Jose Canseco is to be believed, and it is looking more and more like he can be, then steroid use and the use of other substances has been rampant in the game. Just as in the 1970's when not every player reached into the bowl of greenies, not every player used steroids during this most recent era, and not all those who tried them continued their usage. But with really no way of knowing truthfully who did what and when, there is little recourse for the record books. As for the standing of the individuals, the question remains as to how to evaluate players such as Bonds, Clemens, Sosa, ARod and others for Hall of Fame purposes, and simply for the purposes of their places among the pantheon of the legends of the game. I for one do not believe that these players should be dismissed. Barry Bonds was the first-ever 400-400 player by 1998, the first player in the history of the game to have hit 400 homeruns and stolen 400 bases. He was a multiple Gold Glove winner in left field. He was quite simply one of the half dozen greatest players in the history of the game long before he every likely used any type of performance enhancing substance. I believe that these players need to be judged against one another over this era, that the substance use should be taken into consideration at some level, but that it should not be the single determinant when evaluating their Hall of Fame credentials. The best way to handle the 'Steroid Era' in baseball is simply to acknowledge it, ensure that baseball is doing everything in its power to end it, and then move along with no asterisks and with common sense considerations for individual players, just as was done for the players of the 'Whites Only' era.

Uncle Frank and I Go To the World Series

The 1980 World Series holds a special place in the hearts of all Philadelphia Phillies fans, and none more so than myself. First of all, it is the only championship that the Phils have won thus far in their 125-year history. It is also special to me because I got to see it in person, having attended Game #2 at Veteran's Stadium with my Uncle Frank LoBiondo. How it was that my Uncle Frank and I attended a World Series game together is a part of the story. It's not that we were ever particularly close, though he is a great guy and someone who I have always liked and enjoyed being in the company of at family events and such. He is my father's sister's husband, so my uncle through marriage, and again, a great guy. It's just that at the age of 18, I had plenty of friends and family who would normally have been ahead of Uncle Frank in the pecking order for my extra ticket. In fact, that I even had an extra ticket is it's own story. Back in those days which may seem somewhat ancient now, there was no internet, and few of the types of ticket brokers that you find today. Most tickets to events were purchased either by standing in line at the box office or by procuring them at the venue on the day of the event from a 'scalper'. When the Phillies won the 1980 National League pennant by defeating the Houston Astros by 3 games to 2 in one of the most dramatic pennant battles ever, I knew that I just had to get to the first Phils appearance in the Series in my lifetime. I was a huge baseball and Phillies fan, as I remain today, and I went out to The Vet to stand on line waiting for tickets. I got up to the box office and there was a maximum limit of eight (8) tickets that each individual could purchase at $20 per seat, and so I bought my allotted maximum, shelling out $160 in the process. Believe me, that sounds like chump change to most of you here in 2008, and the fact is that it would cost you 10x that amount to get into Citizen's Bank Park for this years Series. Well back then it was a lot of money to me and my young family. As I said already, I was only 18 years old at the time, but I already was married with an 8-month old baby. I worked for First Pennsylvania Bank as a messenger clerk, a job that I had just begun a year earlier, right out of high school. Needless to say, it barely paid the rent and other necessities. But I had a plan in buying the 8 tickets, and it worked wonderfully. At the bank, I put out word that I had extra seats, and was quickly besieged with offers for my tickets. I sold two for $100 apiece, and another two for $50 each. Happy at having done so well, I sold the next pair on the cheap for $25 each. I had quickly sold six of the tickets, worth $120, for a total of $360, and I had my two remaining seats to still enjoy the game. The person with whom I was supposed to attend the game couldn't get off from work, and so I was left to scramble at the last minute for someone to go with me. You wouldn't think it would be a problem, but remember, it was 1980. No cellphones, no texts, no computers. The only way to get in touch with anyone was in person or by land-line phones. With literally no time before I should be leaving for the game, I began to make some phone calls. No luck. No one was answering their phones, or those friends whose homes that I reached were still not home from work or school. Unbelievably, my brother, father, grandfather, and my closest friends were all out-of-pocket in that short time that I had to get a game partner. After trying about a dozen or so people, I thought of my cousins, and I started out by calling the house of my cousin Donna LoBiondo (now Mooney). Donna and I were the same age, and I had always gotten along well with her, and she only lived about three blocks away. When I called, my Uncle Frank, her father, answered the phone. Much as everyone else that I tried, Donna was not yet home from work. But sensing an opportunity, Uncle Frank volunteered that he would go with me if I wanted. Well, there you have it. So I walked over to their home, and Uncle Frank and I walked to the 79 bus on Oregon Avenue, took it westbound to the Broad Street Subway, and took the subway down to The Vet. What excitement there was in what was then still a showplace venue of a stadium. The Phils had held off George Brett and the Kansas City Royals the previous day for a thrilling 7-6 win, and so took a 1-0 lead in the Series into our game. For this 2nd game, the Phils would send their future Hall of Fame ace, Steve Carlton, to the mound. 'Lefty' was cruising along and the Phils took a narrow 2-1 lead into the 7th inning when suddenly there was some type of ruckus down on the field. It seems that the Royals manager believed that Carlton had a foreign substance on his hands. The umps went out and checked, and whatever they found, they made Carlton stop and wash his hands. Whether it rattled Lefty or what, he proceeded to walk three batters, and then the Royals' star outfielder Amos Otis ripped a 2-run double. KC added another run, and took a 4-2 in the game into the bottom of the 8th inning. The Phils started to put a rally together, and pinch-hitter extraordinaire Del Unser eventually tied it at 4-4. Then up came outfielder Bake McBride, and the man known as 'Shake-n-Bake' rapped a go-ahead single through a drawn-in infield to put the Phils back on top. The crowd of more than 60,000 roared, including Uncle Frank and I from out seats way up in the 700 level, the highest point in The Vet, behind home plate. Then the Phils' MVP superstar 3rd baseman and future Hall of Famer Mike Schmidt drove a double off the wall to score bake with an insurance run (pictured above), and The Vet was literally rocking from the jumping up and down and the roar of the crowd. With normal closer Tug McGraw unavailable, tall righty Ron Reed came in for the Save in the 9th, and the Phillies and we fans celebrated a 2-0 lead in the World Series. That lead would evaporate quickly, as Kansas City won the first two games back at their home park to tie the Series at 2-2, but the Phillies won a dramatic 5th game and came back to The Vet exactly 28 years ago tonight. There and then, on October 21st, 1980, the hopes and dreams of all Phillies fans were finally realized when the Tugger slipped a fastball past Willie Wilson with the tying run at the plate, and the Phils took the 6th game by a 4-1 final score. No one who was around this town back then will ever forget that season, team, victory, and the ensuing parade. And in particular, I will never forget my first and only visit to the World Series, with my lucky longshot ticket winner Uncle Frank right there with me.