Philadelphia Daily News - October 17, 1980

Ruthven Set to Make His Pitch

 

By Bill Conlin

 

KANSAS CITY, Mo. – The last time Dick Ruthven fired a baseball in anger he pitched two perfect innings that nailed down the pennant for the Phillies.

 

He blanked the Astros in relief in the ninth and 10th innings last Sunday night and did most of his celebrating in the trainer's room with an as pack on his arm.

 

There's a movie about the D-Day invasion of Normandy called "The Longest Day." The title appropriately fits what Ruthven went through in the Astrodome Sunday.

 

"What I was told by Dallas was that preferably he wanted me to pitch the first game of the World Series and Marty Bystrom to pitch on Sunday," Ruthven said yesterday while the Phillies dined on steak and lobster on their charter flight here for the resumption of the World Series.

 

RUTHVEN WON 17 games in the regular season, a tremendous achievement for a pitcher coming off arm surgery. He realized that Dallas Green was trying to look ahead. But ne felt he deserved the ball in Game 5 of the playoff with the Astros.

 

"I was disappointed," Dick said. "I wasn't mad. I never said I was mad despite all the garbage that has been going around. But he said that I'd be the first one in the game behind Bystrom.

 

"I saw Dallas at dinner the night before the game and asked him exactly when I'd be used and he told me I'd be first one in the first five innings. And after five innings he told me to go ahead and fly to Kansas City. What made sense was that I would fly home to Philadelphia."

 

"OK, the manager didn't know what town he was going to be in next. Ruthven prepared himself as if he were going to start the game.

 

"I got my ankles taped early." Dick said. "I got ready to try the Steve Carlton cotton-in-the-ear trick because the Dome had been so noisy the day before. I'm out there with cotton in my ears, the whole bit. He had me warming up in the fourth and again in the fifth and I couldn't hear the ball hitting the glove. I felt good, but I didn't know if I was throwing good or not."

 

When Larry Christenson started warming up. Ruthven began wondering what was going on.

 

"L.C HAD HAD surgery, only had one day's rest and we were getting into probably the most crucial part of the game." Dick said. "I kept looking around like I didn't know what they were thinking. I started asking people. 'Did I throw that bad when I was warming up?' Then I started getting a little hissed off, but I didn't say anything. I was just thinking, 'Son of a bitch, if we lose this thing and I don't get to pitch anymore, I'm gonna be really hissed."

 

"But it worked out well for the team and I got to pitch. That was not one of our more organized days."

 

Normalcy will return to Dick Ruthven's life tonight.

 

He'll warm up in the bullpen for 20 minutes, stand at attention for the national anthem, do all the things a starting pitcher does, and, then, he'll oppose Royals righthander Rich Gale in Game 3 of the World Series.

 

"Until a few days ago I thought Rich Gale was left-handed," Ruthven said.

 

The Phillies have spent thousands of dollars in the past six weeks for advance scout Hugh Alexander to chart every move, every breath, every tendency of the Royals. Unlike his predecessor, Danny Ozark, who ignored Alexander's scouting reports – thereby infuriating a farm and scouting director named Dallas Green – this manager has been following the scouting report on Kansas City with diligence.

 

Alexander's report said the best way to neutralize Willie Wilson's blazing speed was to keep him off the bases. And the most effective way to do that, Alexander says, is with "hard stuff away."

 

"AND EVEN IF we make a mistake on him," Hughie said, paying Wilson a right-handed compliment, "by keeping the ball away from him, our righthanders will be less likely to see him standing on third base. If he pulls the ball into the alley left-handed or into the right-field corner it's an automatic triple."

 

Ruthven has not been cramming nights on the Royals' scouting report. Dick has a private advance scout, a guy named Jim Kaat.

 

"I don't know any of 'em," Ruthven shrugged. "I know George Brett personally, but I don't know him as a hitter. I know Dave Chalk, but not as a hitter. Like I was telling somebody the other day, I'm just gonna leave that stuff up to Boonie.

 

"I talked to Jim Kaat on the phone yesterday and he gave me some advice on a couple of guys. My game is my game. I'm not gonna go back to being a power pitcher again because that's the way to get some of their hitters out. Boonie will call the locations on them for me because I don't know 'em. He's had a bird's-eye view back there."

 

Boone's view hasn't included many pitchers knocking the bats out of the Royals' hands. The American League champions pounded three homers off Bob Walk in Game 1. Steve Carlton fired 10 strikeouts in Game 2, but it took him 157 pitches and a lot of deep counts and base hits to do it. He was in trouble in seven of the eight innings he pitched.

 

THERE'S BEEN a lot made of the Vet Bandbox vs. the spaciousness of Royals Stadium, a park similar in dimensions to San Diego Stadium. It should, however, be pointed out that the Phillies play some of their best offensive baseball in spacious parks, with significant success this season in San Diego and Houston, where they sent a lot of balls bouncing up the gaping alleys.

 

All three Phillies righthanders scheduled to work here this weekend – Ruthven, Christenson and Bystrom – will profit from the fact that a pitcher can get away with a well-located high fastball in a park this big.

 

And, no, Ruthven did not sleep with Hugh Alexander's scouting report under his pillow last night.

 

"Jim Kaat's advice to me is a whole lot more important than Hugh Alexander's scouting report," Ruthven said. "A whole lot more accurate, too... That's because Kitty is a pitcher, a guy who stands on the mound and knows what it's like to change speeds, spot the ball and stuff, which is my basic approach to pitching. Pius Jim Kaat pitched against some of those guys over a long haul."

 

And which Kansas City hitters have impressed Ruthven the most?

 

"None of them," he said. "I'm trying to take a low-key view of this. I won't be pitching to their hitters. I'll be pitching to Boonie. I wanted to get mad at Willie Aikens because he's done some stuff – hot dog bleep – that I don't like to watch. I wanted to dislike him, but I said, 'Wait a second, Dick, you don't do well when you dislike people or like people. Just keep it as impersonal as you can.’

 

"EVERYBODY'S talking about how fast this team is and all that bullbleep. They're no faster than Montreal, no faster than St. Louis. They're no faster than Houston.

 

"Everybody says their offense revolves around George Brett. Well, there can't be a hotter hitter than Terry Puhl was against us in the playoffs."

 

Ruthven snorted and coughed. He is battling a heavy cold.

 

"I wish it was today," he said. "I really do. I haven't really pitched since last Wednesday."

 

With the exception of two perfect innings which won the Phillies the pennant.

 

"When I walked out there in the 10th you might not have seen a smile on my face," Ruthven said, "but I was smiling inside because I knew there was no way in hell they were gonna get a hit off me."

Winners, But Not Champs

 

By Tom Cushman

 

KANSAS CITY, Mo. – As the invited guests stepped off the elevator and into the Stadium Club at the Royals' ballpark last evening, there to greet each person individually was a stocky, robust gentleman whose obvious warmth seemed an extension of the surroundings. "I'm Ewing Kauffman," he would say, "and I'd like to thank you so much for coming."

 

The hors d'oeuvres were spectacular, the cocktails generous, the buffet above average, the view of the stadium exquisite, and yet none of these amenities provoked as much comment at Kansas City's first World Series reception as did the gracious manner of Ewing Kauffman, a pharmaceutical millionaire who also is the owner of the Kansas City team.

 

Since the guest list of perhaps 2,000 included several hundred members of the international media, it is reasonable to assume that Kauffman's performance during what had to be a tedious process was an effective gesture for the image of his city. And if you think image is not part of what the World Series is about, then why are you so concerned over the fact that the Phillies have been so consistently excluded.

 

DOWN 0-2 IN the tournament at hand, Ewing Kauffman managed to leave the game on the field and still do some effective public relations work for his community. I somehow have a visual blockage when I try to place Ruly Carpenter in the same position.

 

These points are raised because of what is happening as the Phillies move with extraordinary flair, and dispatch, toward a moment our town has never before experienced. They are winning. the World Series, but losing the battle for a revised profile. They are hanging out four-run rallies which excite the crowds, and then hiding out in back rooms while journalists from several nations come to visit.

 

This is a procedure that has long since been accepted with regret by the Philadelphia media, principal objects of their scorn, but the reporters from New York, Washington, Los Angeles and a hundred other cities are not amused. Their dispatches to the provinces obviously will reflect the same. The consensus at this moment seems to be that the Phillies have the equipment to win, but then so did the Weirmacht.

 

"The most arrogant group of athletes I've ever seen," is the way they were described by a reporter from Denver.

 

“I can’t imagine auything worse man dealing with a group like this," said a Chicago writer who, in comparison, gets to deal with the Cubs, White Sox, Bears, Bulls and Black Hawks.

 

THIS WAS LATE Wednesday night, and he was standing in the center of the clubhouse only minutes after the Phillies had defeated the Royals, 6-4, thereby doubling the number of victories by any previous Phillies World Series entry. And the place looked like someone had just phoned in a bomb alert. All but the valiant had repaired to shelters off the main room.

 

The noise of celebration was conspicuous by its absence. World Series participation, in other words, has not improved the Phillies' manners, and by yesterday morning the readers in Chicago, as elsewhere, had been informed of this interesting development.

 

It should be mentioned here that there are a few who have worked overtime to represent you well, off the field as well as on. There are the obvious ones... Pete Rose, Tug McGraw, Del Unser, Greg Gross. Give high marks to Mike Schmidt who, despite post-season statistics which are less than rousing, has been available, courteous, informative. It is nice to see that Larry Bowa, who shunned the majority of the local media following the great drug flap in early July, has had the class to lift the ban now that his team is under coast-to-coast scrutiny.

 

In contrast:

 

RON REED refused to appear in the mass interview area or to speak to individual reporters following his wrap-up relief appearance Wednesday. So, of course, did Steve Carlton, whose rudeness has been an accepted part of the Philadelphia baseball scene for some time, but had not merited international attention until this week. We now have for the files a picture of Bake McBride with a stripe of tape over his mouth.

 

Others, too numerous to mention, have based their level of cooperation on performance and mood, a discipline carried Qver from the regular season.

 

This is probably as good a place as any to point out that .these observations are impersonal. I have no quarrel with the habits of these people... my approach having been: If they want to talk, fine. If not, there are other things to do in life. I don't consider silence by an athlete a professional insult, but there are many working this event who do, and they don’t think much of Philadelphia at the moment, despite the scores.

 

Consider this in the way the teams, and towns, are to be analyzed, because those who make the judgments will:

 

George Brett, a figure of majesty and romance throughout the summer – a Kansas City paper described him yesterday as America's next sex symbol – reaches the apex of his exposure, and then goes limping to the sidelines with hemorrhoids. It is not exactly the way one of Homer's leading men would exit.

 

THE PAIN OF this has to go beyond the physical. There is compassion for him in Kansas City, but George surely knows they're giggling elsewhere, casting him as the ultimate commerical for Preparation H.

 

Still George Brett pulled himself out of the trainer’s room to discuss his condition with reporters in Philadelphia Wednesday night, at the same hour many of the Phillies were unavailable down the hall. The comparison will not be lost on those who chronicle these games.

 

There is a difference here, too, between those whose impressions are honest and the cheap-shot artists. I see, for example, that Dick Young of the New York News has ripped Philadelphia, his principal complaint as I understand it being that our subway cars are not as clean as those in Manhattan. This surprised me. Knowing Dick's stature in the profession, I guess I had assumed that his newspaper would by now provide funds for alternative transportation.

 

Do not think, though, that impressions of Philadelphia in this time of exposure will not be colored by those who are representing it up front. The guys can pitch well, hit well, field well, take the Royals in four, and if they continue to revert to type afterward still will have done nothing for the city that wasn’t already done by W.C. Fields.

 

Winning a World Series would be marvelous tonic for Philadelphia, but it would be even more enjoyable if the Phillies could accomplish this and also be remembered as champions. There can be a difference between winners and champions, remember, and with only two victories to go in 1980, these guys have not yet qualified as synonyms.

Bull Feverish But May Play

 

By Bill Conlin

 

KANSAS CITY, Mo. – When the Phillies' charter night took off at noon yesterday, one of their bombers was missing.

 

Greg Luzinski, sent home with a 103 temperature before Game 2 at the Vet, was still running a 101 fever yesterday morning and Dr. Philip J. Marone told the Bull to spend the day at home resting.

 

"He’ll fly in tomorrow," trainer Don Seger said. "He's still weak and feeling pretty sick. We'll see how he feels at the ballpark before the game and make a decision from there."

 

The Bull jumped the gun, however. Feeling much better, Luzinski caught an afternoon flight here and arrived at the Phillies' hotel at about 5 o'clock. He felt well enough last night to go out to dinner with his parents.

 

IT NOW APPEARS Luzinski's presence in the starting lineup tonight will depend more on the whim of Manager Dallas Green than on the latest medical bulletins. Keith Moreland's hot bat in the DH position Wednesday night might have been a proposition the manager can't afford to turn down.

 

Meanwhile, there was good news on the center-field front.

 

Garry Maddox says his left kneecap, bruised by a second-inning foul tip Wednesday night, is greatly improved. X-rays taken at Philadelphia's Methodist Hospital yesterday were negative.

 

"I'm moving a lot better today," Maddox said. "The swelling is way down and I'll be out there tonight."

 

Even Bob Boone is feeling less pain from the big-toe injury he suffered on his left foot blocking the plate on Enos Cabell in the Astrodome last Sunday night.

Phils Memories – Once Upon a Time

 

By Phil Jasner

 

One guy packed a lifetime of major league managing into a single day.  Another used to take naps in the dugout.

 

One played pro basketball and big-league baseball in the same years, and got so tired he once tried to give it all up and fly to Israel. Another became an alcoholic.

 

One used to catch pitchers barehanded, once broke his thumb in a game and slept all night with his hand in a can of ice.

 

They all played for the Phillies in the misty years between pennants, from 1951 to 1979. Where are they now? What do they recall? And do those memories come laced with laughter or with tears?

 

These are the Phillies... somewhere in time .

 

Andy Cohen is 75 now, living in El Paso, Texas, where he spent 17 years coaching at the University of Texas-El Paso, then doubling in the summer with the minor league El Paso Diablos.

 

"I got a call back in 1960 from John Quinn, then the Phillies general manager," Andy recalled, welcoming the opportunity to reminisce.

 

"I had worked for John in Boston, and now he was asking if I'd like to coach in Philadelphia. I knew Eddie Sawyer was the manager, and I asked how Eddie felt about it. John said, 'I'm doing the hiring, don't worry about it. '

 

"So I came up, happy to be there. We opened in Cincinnati, got beat, and were coming home to play Milwaukee, and Eddie resigned. I got another call from Quinn, this time saying he was appointing me manager for the home opener, for one night.

 

"One night? I knew why, and I didn't mind. They had hired Gene Mauch, but Gene needed a couple of days to get here. I was in charge until then.

 

"I'll never forget that night. We beat Milwaukee, 5-4, in 10 innings, one of the biggest thrills I ever had.

 

"Curt Simmons was my pitcher, and in the third inning he got hit pretty hard. I think Hank Aaron homered, so I put in Ruben Gomez and got three pretty good innings from him, then pinch-hit for Gomez and went with Don Cardwell.

 

"This is where it gets good... We were in the seventh, a run down, Cardwell was pitching well, and I made up my mind, if the leadoff guy in the inning got on, I was gonna hit for Don.

 

"But nobody did, I let him bat, and he hit a home run to tie it. He really ripped one, and everybody in the stadium must've thought I really knew what I was doing. Then in the 10th, Bobby Del Greco got on, stole second and scored on a single by Joe Koppe. Hell, I looked pretty smart right about then. I've always wondered if I might've gotten along better with Mauch if I had lost. "

 

Mauch arrived, introduced himself to the staff, then told Cohen and Ken Silvestri they wouldn't be back.

 

"He was young, full of pep," Cohen recalled. "He was gonna steal games from all the other managers. As he grew older, he matured . . . mellowed, became a good baseball man. "

 

Andy Cohen says he's retired now, "because it seemed like it was time to do that. " He visited once with Dallas Green at a Phillies tryout session in Paris, Texas, but now he's content mostly to watch the games on TV, alone with a lifetime of thoughts.

 

Let the record show that 1960 was the last year he worked in the major leagues.

 

Saul Rogovin was the guy with the lo-o-o-ng, slo-o-o-o-ow windup, back in '55 and '56. The cynics said Saul used to take occasional naps in the dugout.

 

"I did, too," he was saying on the phone from New York, where he teaches English at Charles Evans Hughes High, "but not for the reasons everybody thought.

 

"It was through certain psychological pressures, a defense mechanism. Those naps were never controlled. It wasn't as if I'd just settle in and nod off.

 

"It was more like a blackout, lasting a short time. I took medication to help me, but only on the days I was pitching. People thought I didn't care, but that was never the case. And I didn't like the medication, either, because I had bad reactions to it.

 

"I pitched good ball while I was there. I just wish, someday, they'd invite me to one of their Old Timers games. I'd love to come. Other than that, I'm happy they're in a World Series."

 

The Phillies got him from Baltimore, something Saul remembers as a good move.

 

"We were a last-place club in Baltimore," he said, "and I had lost seven, eight games, so they released me. I felt I could still help somebody, so I sent telegrams to all the big-league teams, and Roy Hamey - then the general manager with the Phillies - was the only one to respond.

 

"I won five games in '55, seven in '56. A lot of players called me a junkball pitcher, thought I had nothing, but I had pretty good results, a nice, rising fastball. In '55, we needed one win to clinch fourth place, they asked me to pitch, and I beat the Giants in the Polo Grounds.

 

"But by '57, they had Jack Sanford coming back from the service, Dick Farrell, Jack Meyer, Jim Owens . . . and those fellas could throw a ball through a wall. My time was up. I was 35, 36 years old, they didn't need me anymore."

 

He sounds like a sensitive man, who understands the spectrum of emotions that can engulf an athlete.

 

"I'd like to be at the Series," he said. "When they jump around, celebrate, I know how they feel. And I understand how (Houston's) Jose Cruz felt, after the playoffs, sitting there, staring off into space. I know what was in his mind, too.

 

"You get so few thrills like that in a lifetime, it's a peak experience.  How often does it come along for any one player? The Phillies won, I used to play for the Phillies, I was wishing I could be out there with them."

 

Gene Conley was here in '59. Eddie Sawyer was his manager, Robin Roberts his roommate.

 

"People try to tell me it was hard to play in Philly, but I never felt that way," Gene said from Foxboro, Mass., where he owns an industrial packaging supply business.

 

He had a fascinating career, because he pitched in the majors in the summers, then played forward for the Boston Celtics in the winters.

 

"I won 12 games by August in '59," Gene said, "and one day I got hit with a pitch, in the opener of a twi-night doubleheader, when the ball was a little hard to see.

 

"I got hit on the hand, broke two bones. But I didn't say much, I went out and finished the game, using ice packs and ice water between innings. Just dazzled 'em... at least that's the way I like to remember it. Then I went to a hospital, had a cast put on. "

 

He says he thoroughly enjoyed his dual careers, but any time anyone asks, they also ask about the time Gene Conley said he was giving it all up to fly to Israel.

 

"That was in '61, and I was with the Red Sox by then," he said. "I was a tired guy, had played 13 straight seasons, and it was catching up with me.

 

"I pitched in New York, they made three, four errors behind me. I said if I had won, I thought I had a chance to go to the All-Star Game, but instead I got bombed, took off for four, five days, physically and mentally exhausted.  I knew I had to get straightened out, and as I think about it now, can you think of a better place to do that than Jerusalem? "

 

Lovable, controversial, celebrity-oriented Bo Belinsky was here in '65 and '66, rode the roller coaster for as long as he could, then retreated to the bottom of the bottle.

 

He's in San Diego now, working for the Padres and running Operation Cork, an alcohol and drug-abuse awareness program.

 

"I'm an alcoholic," Bo said, "but I've been sober for five years. The program we have, Joan Kroc (wife of Ray Kroc, the Padres owner) is behind it, it's important to her. I ought to be good at it, I tell everybody, 'cause it's supposed to take one to know one.

 

"I hit the bottom five years ago, had to give up the old ways and start over. I was given a gift . . . I was given back my life, because I was a dead man, one who was either gonna really die or end up in an asylum.

 

"A guy in a society that does such things carried the message to me. I was in a rehabilitation ward, a place I had been before, but by now I was probably going insane. For whatever reason, it was finally my time to listen. "

 

Anyway, Bo says he's rooting for the Phillies.

 

"For a few reasons," he said. "First, my family still lives up in Trenton, N.J. Second, 'cause the Carpenter family was always nice to me. And, third, because of Pete Rose, who helped me get to Cincinnati in '70, the last year I played, when I was just hangin' on. People may have a different view of Pete, but I know him as a kind man. "

 

He came to the Phils from the Angels, and the coast-to-coast move was traumatic.

 

"I was indoctrinated to the California life by then, to Hollywood, to the glamor," he said. "Going to Philly at that point, even though I liked the town, was like being sent to Siberia.

 

"It was almost like being railroaded, but for another reason. I had had some trouble, had been suspended, and it was either go to Philly or give up playing in the big leagues. I think the deal involved Rudy May.

 

"So I showed up, cracked a rib in spring training. It was the year after they blew the pennant, and Mauch didn't want anybody in the training room, didn't want to hear about injuries. I played hurt, really struggled, and didn't produce. Didn't? I couldn't.

 

"But hard feelings? Hell, no. Hey, I picked 'em to win the Series in five."

 

Winning in '80 may have exorcised the memories of '64 for some, but not for everybody. Not for Frank Thomas, who lives in Pittsburgh, working for the ICM School of Business, visiting schools, suggesting educational alternatives.

 

"I came from the Mets to the Phillies, on a bus, literally," Thomas said.

 

''We rode in to play here, I got off the bus, was told I had been traded, and just switched clubhouses.

 

"I went in and asked Mauch what he had in mind. He said I'd be playing against lefties, but that that could change. So I went out and got two hits off Al Jackson, and played the rest of the games in '64 until Sept. 8, when I broke my thumb.

 

"I broke it in the fourth inning of a game, didn't say anything, got two more hits, used ice between innings. After the game, I got a big can, filled it with ice, put my hand in it and slept that way. I woke up the next morning, it was all red and swollen, I went to the doctor.

 

"I told him not to tell anybody, to give me a shot of pain-killer so I could grip the ball. He said he couldn't do that, that he had to put it in a cast. So I could hit, but I couldn't throw.

 

"Gene asked me if I could play, I said I probably could, but that I'd hate to be in a position where I had to make a crucial throw - like to the plate - and not be able to do it. I didn't want to cost the team a game. From that point on, things seemed to go the other way.

 

"The next year, they got Dick Stuart, Gene told me not to worry, but he stopped talking to me. I played maybe five innings all spring. It was as if breaking my thumb had been my fault. "

 

Thomas had some fun, challenging guys to throw their best fastballs, catching them barehanded.

 

"Don Zimmer was the toughest," he remembered. "He took a running start, got to 60 feet, 6 inches and threw me a spitter. But I caught it, he threw his glove in the air, said he was a believer."

 

And then there was the unfortunate incident with Richie Allen, then a young slugger.

 

"What I remember," Thomas said, "is that the club handled it so poorly.  For one thing, I wasn't the one who started it. And Richie, he had a chance to be the greatest player who ever lived. He used to go to Mauch, and ask that I play first, 'cause he was playing third and knew he could throw as hard as he needed to, that I'd handle it."

 

But one day on the field, Richie and Frank came to blows.

 

"Ahh, I was sucker-punched," Frank Thomas said. "I said some things I never should have said. I even went to Richie afterward, told him how sorry I was, how unfortunate it was. He told me to get away from him. I remember  telling Wes Covington that I knew right then I had lost my job. Wes said it wouldn't happen, that he'd go on the radio and explain what really happened.  He did, too.

 

"But Gene called me in, said I was being placed on waivers, that somebody would claim me. I told him it was unfair. He said, 'You're 35, he's 23. ' I'll never forget that. I called John Quinn, but he said he had to stick with his manager. I was the scapegoat, and I knew it."

 

He sounds like a happier man now.

 

"I visit the schools, tell 'em that even if you play ball for 20 years, you'll only be maybe 38 when you're finished, that you've got the rest of your life to live and work," he said. "You need to be prepared.

 

"Take me. People told me, when I was done playing, that I'd work in baseball. They'd tell me, when it was time, to call, that there'd be something. Well, I got done and called . . . called and wrote to 24 teams,  got only five replies. It made me wonder.

 

"Is it because of the incident with Allen? I don't know what else to think.  I thought, 10-15 years later, people would forget. But what happens is, they forget you."

 

Mack Burk was here for two seasons, batted twice the whole time, and loved it. Frank Sullivan was here in '61, suffering through a 23- game losing streak, and hating it.

 

Burk was a catcher who had to stay on the varsity roster because his bonus was more than $4,000. He lives in Pasadena, Texas, a half-mile up the road from Gilley's, the fabled gathering place in "Urban Cowboy. "

 

"They're making a mint in that place," Mack said, taking a break from a busy wholesale electrical supply business. "They pack it every day. . . the people who go regularly, and the ones who know it from the movie. I've been over a couple times myself.

 

"My days with the Phillies . . . I loved 'em. I was 20, a kid, and I was in heaven. Pinch-hit once in '56, got a single up the middle against Joe Nuxhall. Then I got up against Johnny Antonelli in '58, and struck out.

 

"But I remember the players . . . Robin Roberts, Andy Seminick, Ruben Amaro, Art Mahaffey, Willie Jones. Willie, he had the ugliest feet in baseball, but he was like a father to me. They all were. I'd loved to have  stayed, but I spent five years in pro ball, decided I wasn't getting anywhere, and didn't want to spend my life doing it. No regrets, either. "

 

Frank Sullivan? He's the golf pro at Kauai Surf GC in Lihue, Hawaii, trying to forget the agony of a 23-game losing streak.

 

"Those were awful times for me," he said through the echo of a distant phone line. "Most of my good times were with Boston, where I was a pretty good pitcher.

 

"They traded me for Gene Conley. I felt at the time that that meant he was going to the majors and I was going to the minors. I mean, Philly wasn't such a nice place to go back then. Eventually, I went from there to Minnesota to Hawaii. I've been at the golf club for 12 years."

 

A team goes 30 years between pennants, it tends to have more characters than character.

 

It is 1980, the Phillies have the National League pennant tucked away, not to mention a two-game lead on Kansas City in the World Series.

 

If the guys with character are the ones out there playing, the cast of characters from three decades are out there watching, some of them cheering, some of them jeering.

 

But they're out there... somewhere in time, most of them doing just fine, thrilled that anybody even remembers.

Phils' 2-Game Lead Divine Madness

 

By Gene Quinn

 

The Phillies left the madness of the Houston Astrodome with an Old Timers Day pitching staff. After slinging their way through five long National League playoff games, the Phillies' arms were lined up waiting for whirlpool space.

 

Then why, you ask, are the Phils 2-0 in the World Series? The Kansas City Royals have a water glass against the hotel wall trying to solve that mystery.

 

Tom Seaver says it's obvious. In the first two games, says Seaver, it wasn't as much a question of pitchers winning games as it was pitchers losing games.

 

Neither team has trotted out anyone who looks remotely like the Cy Young of the 1980 World Series. Bob Walk gave up six runs in the Phils' victory in the opener. And Steve Carlton threw an incredible 157 pitches and allowed four runs in eight innings before the Phils picked him up with a four-run eighth, giving him the win in Game 2.

 

The Royals, likewise, have hardly looked like the Yankee killers of last week. The Phils lit up Dennis Leonard in Game 1, then beat Larry Gura and bullpen stopper Dan Quisenberry in Game 2.

 

"BOB WALK PITCHED about the way I expected him to," said Seaver, NBC World Series analyst and Cincinnati Reds pitcher. "He gave up some runs. But then the Phillies came back and, when they went ahead, he pitched like hell. I don't think they expected a shutout out of him, but they got what they wanted - seven innings and a fine job.

 

"Tug McGraw had to come in an relieve Walk, but I imagine - this is second-guessing - Dallas Green thought he'd have to use Tug one of the two days.

 

"In Game 2, Carlton certainly wasn't very sharp," said Seaver, in Kansas City yesterday for the weekend action (Channel 3, 17 tonight at 8, tomorrow at 1:30 and Sunday at 4).

 

"He had some stuff but his location wasn't sharp. I talked to him today (yesterday) at the ballpark and he said the balls were very slick. I got hold of one of the balls from the game and it was slick, tough to grip.

 

"Steve said he had a lot of trouble feeling the ball. If that happens, you don't know where the ball's going to go in the strike zone. "

 

Seaver said Carlton's problems with the balls might have been more significant than the Royals' reported attempts to delay Lefty's fast work pace by stepping in and out of the batter's box.

 

" WE MADE THAT point last night on the telecast," he said. "The Cincinnati Reds have tried it on Steve. That's just a basic rule against any pitcher – if he likes to work fast, just make him wait.

 

"I like to work quickly, too," said Seaver. "I don't think it necessarily affects me. I don't think it was Steve's concentration problem. I think his problem was a little bit of fatigue and he just didn't have good feel on the ball. People tried to step out on his, but I don't think Steve gets upset. He just sits there till you're ready. He has very good self-control."

 

What does all this mean? Just that the Royals have squandered the strong pitching advantage they carried into the Series. This weekend, in Kansas City, the American League champs must face a team that has recovered from the jet-lag of a strength-sapping NL playoff and is just waking up - with a 2-0 lead in hand.

 

"Everybody, to a degree, is experiencing some sort of fatigue after the long season; it's impossible not to," said Seaver. "But the emotion of the situation and the cool weather compensate for that.

 

"Look at Tug McGraw. He's had two days off now. Physically, he should be as fine now as all year long because of the two days' rest. For a reliever that should be plenty.

 

"THE PHILS ALSO got a bonus out of Walk because they got a win out of him.  Now they're definitely playing Kansas City on even terms. They've seen the No.1 guy out of the Kansas City bullpen and hit him hard. And the Royals have gotten their first look at McGraw and he pitched superbly against them."

 

Tonight the Royals have the pleasure of facing the Phils' No. 2 starter in Dick Ruthven, who got the pennant victory in relief at the Astrodome. Kansas City will start Rich Gale, a power pitcher with the power of Nolan Ryan, whom the Phils caught on to in Houston. Rested Larry Christenson goes tomorrow, probably agaiinst Paul Splittorff. It could be a short Midwest visit for the Phils.

 

Don't pop the champagne corks. Don't even put the supply on ice. But it might not be a bad idea to call the liquor store and place an order.

 

Kalas Shut Out

 

Those of you who are enjoying the World Series on local media outlets – WPHL TV (Channel 17) and KYW radio (1060 AM) - are enjoying it without the regular Phillies announcers.

 

Harry Kalas, Rich Ashburn, Andy Musser and Tim McCarver are among the best in the business of bringing baseball to hometown viewers (even if they do get a carried away during pennant-clinching celebrations). But for the Series, NBC television and CBS radio (Vin Scully, Tigers Manager Sparky Anderson) have exclusive rights and they pipe their pictures and words over local stations.

 

Watching the Phillies come from behind to beat Kansas city in the first two games of the Series and not being able to describe the action left Kalas with an empty feeling. He must feel a little like Randy Lerch and Nino Espinosa, who were dropped from the active roster for the playoffs and World Series.

 

"It's frustrating," said Kalas. "I would like to see them handle it the same way they handle the playoffs (letting home teams broadcast home). It would have nice to get the exposure the way you used to - do some play-by-play for the national television audience. But I would have preferred to do our regular broadcast.

 

"I APPRECIATE THE fact the networks are paying hefty prices for exclusivity, but to just have dual feeds in two markets, I can't believe they would be giving up that much.

 

"The four of us have some fun watching the games, watching the monitors where we sit, rehashing the plays. It's kind of like an entire game of between-innings banter."

 

What are Kalas' impressions of the Series so far?

 

"I thought the Phillies went into the Series with the feeling that if they could just go 1-1 at home, that would be fine. To be 2-0 at home is really a bonus.

 

"Bob Walk was probably the only pitcher who could have gone after what happened in Houston. But after that, the pitching has lined up.

 

"The key," said Kalas, " what really had to hurt Kansas City was having a 4-2 lead against Steve Carlton in the second game and the Phillies come back against Dan Quisenberry, their best relief pitcher, and get four off him and win, 6-4. It showed this ballclub they're almost better off with their backs to wall."

 

Numbers Game

 

The American viewing public certainly doesn't have a love affair with the Philadelphia Phillies - only with the way they souped up the National League playoffs.

 

The figures for Game 1 of the World Series are in, and NBC is celebrating.  Tuesday's opener drew a 32.9 rating and a 51 percent share of the audience.

 

That's the second-highest number for a Series opener, the 1978 Dodgers-Yankees game heading the list with 33.1 and 55. NBC Research estimates 25.6 million out of 78 million homes tuned in some part of the game. Furthermore, some 68 million people are believed to have watched.

 

The final figures for Game 2 are not tabulated, but NBC announced the early ratings were up from last year. The Series must go more than five games for the network to realize significant profits.

 

The Phillies-Astros shootout went through the roof for ABC, which yesterday announced four ratings records for Championship Series play.

 

The rating and audience share average for the NL and AL series was 20.5, 39, up from 18.1, 36. Prime time viewing was 22.7, 38, up from 21.8, 37. The Phils pennant-clinching in Game 5 was the highest-rated single game with 27.8, 44, up from 25.5, 40. And Game 4 was the top daytime playoff telecast with 23.4, 50, up from 21.8, 52.

 

Commercialism

 

Talk about fast footwork. American Home, whose products are to be advertised on NBC during tonight's game, is the maker of Preparation H, the hemmorhoid ointment. When George Brett came down with a hemmorhoid problem, American Home switched its plans and included an ad for the medication.

 

Is there a message there?

Editorial:  The Phillies

 

It's little wonder we Philadelphians are making complete idiots of ourselves over having our first shot at a baseball World Series in 30 years.

 

The World Series, to put it succinctly, is one of the greatest events possible. Beside it, the football Super Bowl or a national political convention looks like nothing more than an overblown fish fry.

 

The Phillies, who have been so frustrated for so long that a lot of them seem to have become as terminally surly as many of the fans, are a big part of that excitement. It's hard not to get excited by a team that continues to beat the odds, to come from behind in the scratching, clawing, inexorable style we've had a lot of fun getting used to the last few weeks.

 

Naturally, a couple of old (in baseball terms) men have been the symbols. They know what they're doing and enjoy it thoroughly. Pete Rose, once the heart of the Big Red Machine, and Tug McGraw, the soul of the Amazin' Mets, have the kind of enthusiasm that's catching. The rest of the Phillies have performed the way we've always hoped they would as well.

 

For a Phillies fan, a type matched in persistence in the face of disaster only by a Chicago Cubs loyalist, it's not much short of Heaven.

 

Almost as a bonus, we're getting a taste of the kind of happy hoo-hah the World Series generates. When your team's in it, your whole body feels the power of an overflow crowd trying to intimidate the opposing pitcher. On a higher level, a fan is forced to be smarter – to notice little things like Rose giving himself up to move the runner to third base.

 

The World Series fulfills our dreams, buries our frustrations, makes a good team a great one, makes us think and makes an entire old city go just as crazy as those places in the provinces do over such events. We always felt patronizing about all that. Now we know it's because we didn't have our own Series to got nuts about.

 

Of course, the realities of people's lives aren't going to change. Pittsburgh hasn't become Valhalla during the past year. So what.

 

For now, it's wonderful.

Royals Down, Not Out

 

By Ray Didinger

 

KANSAS CITY, Mo. – The Kansas City Royals arrived home at 3 a.m. yesterday, staggering into an airport jammed with 500 cheering fans, a high school band and two TV camera crews.

 

Relief pitcher Dan Quisenberry gazed at the festive crowd and rubbed his weary eyes in disbelief. He turned to teammate Jamie Quirk and asked, "We did lose those two games in Philadelphia, didn't we?"

 

The Royals didn't expect much of a reception when they flew home after dropping the first two games of this World Series to the Phillies. They figured there might be a few workmen vacuuming the carpets but that would be it.

 

But when they got off the plane in the predawn hours, they found a large crowd, all decked out in Royals hats and shirts, waving pennants and chanting "We're No. 1."

 

The players were, to put it mildly, stunned.

 

"We didn't even bother talking about (a reception) on the plane," catcher John Wathan said. "We thought with the time we were getting in and the people having to get up for work in the morning, there wouldn't be anybody there.

 

"WHEN WE WALKED into the terminal and we saw all those people, it kinda washed away all the disappointment we felt on the flight. It made us realize, hey, now we're back in our backyard. Things are gonna be different now."

 

Ewing Kauffman, the club president, spoke briefly to the fans. "It's nice to be home for three straight games," Kauffman said, "and we're gonna win 'em all."

 

The crowd let out a roar that rattled the airport windows, like a fighter squadron making a low pass. What the fans were saying, basically, was they had not yet given up on winning this World Series.

 

The mood here in Kansas City is one of concern but not panic, of disappointment but not outrage. The fans are shocked by the way the Royals coughed up the lead in each of the last two games, but they remain optimistic.

 

The Royals have placed themselves in the unenviable position of having to win four of the remaining five games to win the Series. Only seven times has a team come back from an 0-2 deficit and won a World Series.

 

The Kansas City fans realize that, but they don't seem to care. The people here never let the odds get in the way of their hearts.

 

THE EXPERTS ALL said there was no way George Brett could finish the season hitting .400 but the Kansas City fans believed in Brett to the very end.

 

These fans believed in the Royals in the American League playoffs, even though past history and the oddsmakers made a convincing argument for the New York Yankees. As it turned out, the Kansas City faithful were rewarded with their first pennant.

 

Tonight, when the Royals and Phillies meet in Game 3, there will be 40,628 people jammed into picturesque Royals Stadium and they will be trying to somehow reverse the momentum of this series.

 

It might seem like the Royals are grasping for straws, hoping the chorus of friendly voices will make that much difference. But, well, when your best hitter has hemorrhoids and your two top pitchers have been lit up like Macy's window, you tend to push logic aside.

 

"I think playing at home will be a tremendous factor for us," said catcher Darrell Porter.

 

"Hey, we haven't been home since the second game of the American League playoffs. We never did get home to celebrate the pennant.

 

"We've won a championship, we've done what our fans wanted more than anything in the world, and we haven't heard one cheer yet. We've had to play one game in New York, then two in Philadelphia.

 

"WHAT WE NEED is to hear some cheers from our side," Porter said. "We need that more than anything."

 

"Coming home will help us, psychologically," Wathan said. "Just being in familiar surroundings has to help. Anytime you walk into a new park, you feel a little lost. I know we felt that way in Philadelphia.

 

"Now the Phillies have to play here and this isn't the easiest park in the world to adapt to. The (outfield) corners are very tricky and the infield is Tartan turf, not AstroTurf (like Veterans Stadium). It's easy to make a mistake."

 

OK, so there are booby traps all over this ballpark, just waiting to explode in the face of some unsuspecting trespasser. That's fine for forcing one, maybe two, breaks.

 

But the Royals are going to need more than that to get back in this World Series.

 

Tonight, they must have two things if they are to win – a strong pitching performance by sore-armed Rich Gale, and a spark from slumping leadoff hitter Willie Wilson.

 

Gale has been the streakiest pitcher on the Kansas City staff, losing five straight decisions early in the season, then winning 12 in a row through August. He developed tendinitis in his right shoulder and appeared in only six games the last two months.

 

At 6-7, 225 pounds, Gale is an intimidating figure on the mound and, when he's healthy, he is one of the hardest throwers in the game. Yesterday, Kansas City Manager Jim Frey informed the media Gale was ready to go.

 

"Rich is throwing harder and freer (of pain) now than he has at any time this season," Frey said, after a heavy morning rain washed out the Royals' scheduled practice.

 

"HE HASNT WORKED that many innings lately, so it remains to be seen how long he can go. We'll have our bullpen ready in the late innings, just in case."

 

For Frey, the case of Willie Wilson is more perplexing. Wilson was the Royals' offensive catalyst all season, batting .326, stealing 79 bases, leading the league in runs scored (133) and hits (230).

 

So far in the World Series, Wilson has been a bust. He was oh o-for-5 in the opener with three strikeouts. In Game 2, he fanned in his first three at-bats before finally reaching base on a walk and an infield single.

 

"I'm just messed up in my mechanics," Wilson said yesterday. "I didn't see the ball at all in Philadelphia and that means I'm doing something wrong at the plate. I've gotta work it out, that's for sure.

 

"People ask me if it's the (World Series) pressure. I don't think so. I mean, it's not all the attention that's bothering me. What it is, maybe I'm just trying too hard."

 

During yesterday's news conference, someone asked Frey if he felt Wilson's slump was the single biggest factor in the Royals' 0-2 predicament. Frey glared at the questioner.

 

"It's unfair to point your finger at Willie Wilson," Frey said. "It's just unrealistic to assume that a guy is gonna continue to get on base two and three times a game.

 

"HE'S HAD A great season. You can't say he's let us down because of two games. I keep reading about all these players on the other team who have such great character and they aren't getting hits every time up, either."

 

Phillies Manager Dallas Green was seated at the desk behind Frey. When Frey made that sarcastic "character" crack. Green gave the Kansas City manager a look that almost reduced him to ashes.

 

Clearly, this World Series is getting down to serious business. The initial rush of pageantry and posturing is over. Now it is just two hungry ballclubs locked in a mortal struggle.

 

The Phillies are fighting for the respect they've never enjoyed, fighting to live down their image as a team that never cared enough to win. The Royals, meanwhile, are lighting just to stay alive.

 

The feeling that came out of the Kansas City clubhouse yesterday was one of fading shock and growing determination. The Royals realize they must have tonight's game to have any chance of winning.

 

But if they win tonight, they feel they will have weathered the crisis and taken control of the Series.

 

"The pressure is on us now," said designated hitter Hal McRae, "but if we win this game, th pressure will be on them because they won't want to see us even it up.

 

"Hey, they (the Phillies) can't be that confident. We haven't played well yet and we were still leading in both games. They've seen a team but they haven't seen the Kansas City Royals.

 

"When they do," McRae said, "they'll know."

Brett to Play

 

By Ray Didinger

 

KANSAS CITY, Mo. – In a scene certain to go down in medical history. 75 newsmen gathered at Royals Stadium yesterday to interview a proctologist about George Brett's hemorrhoids.

 

It was a bigger turnout than the Surgeon General ever had for one of his press conferences. It was a bigger crowd than Jonas Salk drew the day he announced his vaccine. Christiaan Barnard never packed 'em in like this for a transplant.

 

Who cares about trivial stuff like that? But you find hemorrhoids on a star player in the middle of a World Series and you have a full-scale national health crisis.

 

What happens if the hero has to slide home with the winning run? Does he spray the plate area with foam, the way they do with airport runways when a plane is trying an emergency landing?

 

Yesterday's press conference featured Dr. Paul Meyer, the Kansas City team physician, and Dr. John Heryer, the proctologist who performed the successful surgery on Brett shortly before noon.

 

THE BOTTOM LINE is George Brett is much improved as a result of the operation and he is expected to play tonight against the Phillies.

 

It was the manner in which the press conference was handled that was, well, unusual.

 

You had sportswriters asking questions in a field they know little or nothing about. And you had a physician being vigorously cross-examined on a routine operation which took less than 20 minutes to perform.

 

Dr. Meyer spoke first, explaining that "George developed considerable discomfort during Wednesday's game and (Manager) Jim Frey felt it best to take him out in the sixth inning, rather than risk him further."

 

Brett flew back to Kansas City with the Royals after the game and checked into St. Luke's Hospital. Yesterday, Dr. Heryer performed the operation, lancing the external blood clot which was causing most of Brett's pain.

 

"It was a simple lancing," Dr. Heryer said. "It relieves the pressure in the anal area and, hopefully, the pain. It only required a small incision."

 

"How small was the incision?" one reporter asked. His colleagues in the room groaned.

 

"QUITE SMALL." Dr Heryer said. He looked puzzled by all this hoopla. He later admitted he was not much of a baseball fan.

 

"Will George be able to play at, or near, his peak efficiency?" someone asktxi. "He will not be at peak efficiency, no," Dr. Meyer said. "There will be some discomfort. Running and sliding will aggravate the condition but it won't cause any permanent damage."

 

"What have you prescribed for him?"

 

"Rest." Dr. Heryer said. "He will stay in the hospital overnight (last night). I want him off his feet as much as possible. This afternoon, he will soak in a tub of hot water."

 

The doctor could not pinpoint the cause of the 27-year-old third baseman's problem. He said it could be hereditary, it could be the result of playing ball, or it could be the backlash of the pressures of this season.

 

"Stress can bring on this condition in some individuals," Dr. ileyer said. "We have not determined yet if that is the case with Mr. Brett."

 

Someone asked the doctor to spell his name again and pronounce it.

 

"ITS PRONOUNCED 'HIGHER,' " he said "That’s my slogan – the higher I am, the more behind I get."

 

That's a little proctologist humor there, folks. Everyone got a big kick out it, except probably George Brett.

 

•

 

The Royals canceled their early afternoon workout yesterday. Manager Jim Frey felt the players needed the rest after flying back from Philadelphia and not arriving home until 3 a.m.

 

The Phillies flew in yesterday afternoon and worked out at Royals Stadium at 4 p.m. They gave the ballpark high marks for decor – they like the shrubs and waterfalls in the outfield – but low marks for playing conditions.

 

The infielders were pleased with the artificial Tartan surface. They found ground balls took true and slightly higher hops than on the AstroTurf at Veterans Stadium.

 

The outfielders, however, were complaining about the walls in right and left fields. Down the lines, the walls curl around and cause balls hit into the corner to spin around as if they are flying out of a roulette wheel.

 

Bake McBride and Lonnie Smith spent an hour trying to play balls caroming off the corners and they never did figure out a pattern to them.

 

"I'll tell you, it's bad down there," McBride said.

 

"It's got me worried. They've got all kinds of things I've never seen before. They've got boards the ball can bounce off. They've got holes in the fence where the ball can get stuck or roll through.

 

"The ball bounces funny, so even when it comes off you don't know how to play it. I was trying to stop it by putting my shoe -and glove together against the wall, but even then it just hopped over my hand.

 

"THE BALL NEVER seems to come out of there the same way twice. One time, it hits the corner and comes out quick. The s next time, it hits in there and dies. You don't know whether to charge it or lay back.

 

"Now I see how that Willie Wilson got his six home runs this year," McBride said. "Five of them were inside-the-park jobs here."

Brett’s Hemorrhoids a Royal Pain

 

By Pete Dexter

 

I was sitting on the couch with my daughter, watching the Phillies and the Royals and cutting out paper dresses for Tender Love'n Kisses. Tender Love'n Kisses is a cardboard doll, and I'd already cut off her nipples and an ear, trying to get her nighty to stick.

 

I had $50 on the Royals.

 

My daughter is named Casey, after Casey Stengel, and she had a fever and a sore throat and was all dragged up with some cherry-favored glue the doctor said to slip into her apple juice, but that didn't keep her from seeing what I'd done to Tender.

 

"Cut off ear?" she said.

 

I had been watching George Brett and his now-famous Agonized Ass standing at first base, talking with Pete Rose. A moment or two before that, George had singled up the middle and Pete had pretended he was going to slap him back there, something that ball players often do for each other after base hits.

 

I looked away from the television set and my daughter was holding the ear in her hand. Joe Garagiola was saying that hemorrhoids weren't anything to laugh about, that they were as painful as any other injury. "It’s amazing." I said to myself, "the lessons of life you learn on the ball field." At the same time, something in me knew that Joe Garagiola thinks that hemorrhoids are the funniest thing in the world.

 

•

 

By the time Garagiola said that, of course, it had already been said 200 times that evening. He is not going to try something that bold first. I was surprised, however, that he and Tony Kubek didn't quarrel. Usually. Tony would say. "I'll take that over a dislocated groin," and they'd argue back and forth for two innings.

 

By the time Garagiola said that, though, I'd already heard it on the radio, in the pre-game television show – which included a graphic description – and from the overvoice every time a camera went by George Brett. Thirty million Americans could suddenly put themselves in a .390 hitter's shoes.

 

I took the ear from my daughter and tried to glue it back onto Tender's head. 1 used the kid's medicine, which was lying at the bottom of her apple juice, and it hung there a while, then slipped down the doll's neck and stuck in the slits where her nipples had been.

 

"I don’t know about you." I said to my wife, "but if I were George Brett. I'd of said I had an earache."

 

•

 

Blanche had been looking for an issue ever since the Royals beat her Yankees. She still doesn't understand why George Steinbrenner didn't buy Brett before the third game of the playoffs.

 

"Are you trying to say that you're offended?" she said. "That you think talking about George Brett's hemorrhoids is bad taste?"

 

"Roids?" Casey said. I stuck the ear to Tender's behind to show her what we were talking about.

 

I admitted it. "I think it's bad taste."

 

"The man," she-said, "who wrote the column about dry cleaning condoms? Who wrote the column about how trees have sexual intercourse?"

 

"It's different," I said. "Those are issues that had to be talked about. This is George Brett's personal orifice." I said that pointing to the ear on Tender's behind. Casey reached up into her mother's hair and found an ear.

 

"Or-fice?" she said.

 

Having self-control I dont even know about, I said nothing.

 

•

 

The truth is I haven't liked the national television coverage ever since the Phillies started beating Houston. I bet on them too.

 

I can't tell you how it feels to be sitting there with an 11-run lead that is suddenly a tie score and hear Howard Cosell say, for the 38th time, that the Phillies simply will not quit. I know they won't quit, are they going to refuse to come out of the dugout?

 

Or hear them talk about the courage the team has to come back. Were they playing in an electrical storm? Is it more courageous to hit a line drive than a fly ball? What is the worst thing that can happen if they don't come back?

 

After the Phillies beat the Astros, Larry Bowa discribed what it meant to him. "I swear to God," he said, "I been thinkin' about this since I was five years old. No lie." Other Phillies called it the biggest moment in their lives.

 

And the day after the day of George Brett's hemorrhoids, the day after I lost the fifty, I read a story in the newspaper. Brett's teammate, Jose Cardenal, said, "I went through the same thing many years ago. It's the worst pain any human being can have."

 

I thought to myself, How immature can you be?

 

I thought that and wanted to cut Tender Love'n Kisses into many parts.

 

•

 

Pete Dexter's column appears Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

K.C.’s Nice But I Wouldn’t Want To Live There

 

By Jay Greenberg

 

(Daily News sportswriter Jay Greenberg worked in Kansas City before smartening up and transferring to Philadelphia. Here he offers his view of the city where the Phillies play their next World Series games).

 

In three years in Kansas City. I never came across one cow.

 

A lot of people were still defensive about them though, because images are not as easily led to slaughter. Sport was to be made only at Royals Stadium or Arrowhead, not of the city itself. Philadelphia had a 100-year head start on its inferiority complex, but K.C. caught up fast. It really is more of an overgrown, sprawling town than a city, which accounted for a good deal of its charm. But when the absence of a skyline was noted by its citizens about 10 years back, it decided to build one.

 

The result, the Crown Center Complex, a $500-million city within a city, has begun relocating downtown about one mile south. Try that in Philadelphia. And then try to travel the Schuylkill Expressway at rush hour. At least four of my five years since moving to Philly have been spent upon it, which is lots of time to remember Kansas City fondly. If the pace is a little slower out there, it is, at least, steadier.

 

The living there is easy. Not necessarily in summer, when walking outside is like stepping into a blast furnace, but in general. Kansas City has just recently come up to date, but the leftovers from its stagnant years make pleasant contrasts.

 

IT WAS LAID out with spacious boulevards and fountains long before its government fell victim to boss Tom Prendergast's corrupt machine. Not only did the good people of Kansas City throw out Prendergast, they even unloaded the insidious Charles O. Finley more than 30 years later. If these villains were progress, Kansas City didn't want it. While suburbs will grow anywhere, Kansas Citians lived in more-or-less blissful isolation until its major-league status and the search for tourist and convention dollars overcame them.

 

In the last 20 years, it has become a showcase of a town which bolted off its rear end. The result has been bond issues for the ultimate extravagance – separate football and baseball stadiums standing next to each other. Both are simply perfect, functional and beautiful in virtually every detail. Next came a new international airport, an arena for an NBA team and an ill-fated NHL venture, a separate downtown convention center, and all the while Crown Center, a two-hotel, office and shopping and apartment center grows by the day.

 

But there are flaws. There is no better place for eating steak, but no worse for a good pasta or a lobster or a wor ba. We have found no place in Philly even close to Kelly's in Old Westport for a tall scotch and a jeans-and-sweatshirt atmosphere, but except for Arthur Bryant's world famous barbecue, which is delicious, but, in truth, filthy, the place is ethnically deprived.

 

SO ARE ITS sports fans. Perhaps we've never forgiven Kansas City for losing that hockey team, but your basic fan out there does not measure up to Philadelphia standards.

 

The Eagles' attendance, even in the bad years, has never fallen off like the Chiefs' did after their slip from power. The baseball team is well-supported, considering there is nothing of any size besides Topeka within a 100-mile radius, but its fans sit quietly, waiting to be entertained.

 

Certainly they are far less informed. Kansas City is a one-newspaper town and the lack of competition is generally reflected in the product. The Royals are a prime exhibit of the city's Chamber of Commerce, not a part of its heart, like the Phillies. The Royals' fans love George Brett, but there is no one they both love and hate like Larry Bowa.

 

At least it was that way when we called it home. The big time beckoned, the decision to leave was not that difficult. Kansas City was, as its public relations campaign blares, "livable," certainly progressive and probably friendlier, but after Arthur Bryant's gas left your system three days later, one was left with a flavor of vanilla.

 

While surely there is a lot more about Philadelphia to dislike, there's still a lot more to enjoy. If you're a sports fan, you're in the right place.

Players, Fans Need Some Changes

 

By Phillie Phanatic

 

KANSAS CITY. Mo. – The size of the World Series, the number of press people and TV people and fans, is just incredible. Especially fans. It just seems like everybody is interested in the World Series.

 

All those everybodies ask the ballplayers for a lot of autographs, and from what should be a simple, friendly exchange comes so many bad feelings and misunderstandings on both sides it's unbelievable.

 

That's right – the problems come from both sides.

 

It's unfortunate, but a lot of fans have seen the following scene: Just outside a ballpark, a group of people – mostly kids – wait expectantly for a ballplayer to come out. They see him come through the stadium door, their eyes brighten, they're all excited that they're finally going to get a chance to meet their favorite ballplayer, and he walks right through the crowd without so much as a "hello.”

 

THREE YEARS ago, before the Phanatic was born, he was just a fan, too, and he saw that very scene. And he'll never forget the look on the face of a 12-year-old kid, his mouth wide open, his head down, right after his hero walked past him without a word.

 

As bad as that is, though, most fans rave never seen the following: At an airport, for instance, a big crowd is gathered to meet a team. A big crowd. And as the team gets off the plane and heads into the terminal, a huge crush of people starts to move in, pushing and shoving. The players try to sign a few autographs, but the people really start to surge, climbing over the guy in front of them. It really can be scary, and dangerous a little kid could get trampled.

 

So the ballplayers just rush out to the team bus as quickly as they can. and the fans take it as a personal insult and start complaining about those over-priced, ungrateful ballplayers.

 

Neither of these scenes is typical, but both have created a lot of misunderstanding.

 

First off. some fans have to change. The major leagues just spent some money recently on a TV commercial with Steve Garvey on how to ask properly for an autograph. First, use a large, firm piece of paper, or cardboard. Bring a felt-tip pen, and a different card for each player to sign. It's a good commercial. If the fans did what Garvey says, and asked nicely, most of the problems would be ended.

 

BUT JUST LIKE the fans have to change, so do the players. Now, baseball players have bad days like everyone else, problems at home and things like that, but they have to learn that the public relations aspect of baseball is not something extra, it's a basic part of their job. They should be taught this from the very beginning, from the rookie level of the minor leagues on up. Fan relations is a talent, a talent that often has to be acquired, and the ballclubs and older ballplayers should realize this and help out the newer guys.

 

Let's face it though – if a ballplayer tried to sign everybody's piece of paper, he'd never get home to his family. So, a player should leave the stadium with the idea he's going to sign, say, five or 10 or whatever number. After he signs that number he might stop for a little while and just talk with the people, then excuse himself politely and leave. That's all it takes.

 

Even if he doesn't have time to sign any autographs, just stopping for a short time and talking is all that's needed. The personal touch of acknowledging the people is all they really want, and the players owe it to baseball. Why not cut out a little bit from yourself and give it back to the game?

 

Now, the Phanatic has it easy. When he takes off his costume, a lot of people don't know him. But when they stop him, he tries to be nice and at least talks to them for a while. Especially to the little kids – they're great.

 

If both the fans and the players would overcome the prejudices that a few bad experiences on both sides have created, then everyone would get along a lot better.

Uecker’s Comic Style Catches On

 

By Phil Jasner

 

Bob Uecker came to the Phillies in 1966. "Dick Groat, Bill White and I came from St. Louis, for Art Mahaffey, Pat Corrales and Alex Johnson," the ABC-TV color man was saying on the phone from his Milwaukee home. "I always said I was the major part of that deal, and I went through with it so I didn't mess up Groat or White's careers."

 

Uecker's a funny guy who remembers the games he played in, and the ones he didn't. "The subs, we had our own games, before the regulars came out for batting practice," he said. "I was one of the captains, we had maybe four guys to a team, and we'd have somebody judge the hits... outs, singles, doubles, whatever. At the end of the year, we had a dinner. Even gave out trophies. I think Harvey Kuenn was my MVP."

 

AND HOW DOES he see the World Series, with the Phils ahead, 2-0, preparing for Game 3 tonight in Kansas City? "I was a little surprised at the first two games," he replied, "because I thought if the Royals got a lead, they could hold it.

 

"But I didn't know if (Dan) Quisenberry could hold 'em Wednesday night. He throws like (Pittsburgh's Kent) Tekulve, but not as hard, and it looked like he was gettin' right in their zone. The guy's a good pitcher, though. This was just one night.

 

"I would think the Royals would be able to turn it around in Kansas City, but the Phils have been playing so great through the Montreal and Houston series, and now in the World Series. They just look like they're ready.

 

"Mike Schmidt's starting to hit, the kid (Keith) Moreland could turn out to be a hero, and (Bob) Boone looks so good... Steve Carlton must've thrown eight in the dirt, and he gets 'em like he knows they're coming. I'd say he's one of the best receivers in baseball."

 

Catcher, that's the position Uecker played.

 

"I used to go across the street to the Phillies Bar during the games," he deadpanncd. "Get a hoagie, listen to By Saam on the radio. Gene Mauch'd call the bullpen to get somebody ready, they'd put him on hold 'til I got back."

 

From 1900 to the end of 1979, 1,163 guys played for the Phillies, and only four of them had last names that begin with 'U.' Maybe someday Bob Uecker will tell us about that on "The Tonight Show."

Phils Memories – Once Upon a Time

 

By Phil Jasner

 

One guy packed a lifetime of major league managing into a single day. Another used to take naps in the dugout.

 

One played pro basketball and big-league baseball in the same years, and got so tired he once tried to give it all up and fly to Israel. Another became an alcoholic.

 

One used to catch pitchers barehanded, once broke his thumb in a game and slept all night with his hand in a can of ice.

 

They all played for the Phillies in the misty years between pennants, from 1951 to 1979. Where are they now? What do they recall? And do those memories come laced with laughter or with tears?

 

These are the Phillies... somewhere in time.

 

•

 

Andy Cohen is 75 now, living in El Paso, Texas, where he spent 17 years coaching at the University of Texas-El Paso, then doubling in the summer with the minor league El Paso Diablos.

 

"I got a call back in 1960 from John Quinn, then the Phillies general manager," Andy recalled, welcoming the opportunity to reminisce.

 

"I had worked for John in Boston, and now he was asking if I'd like to coach in Philadelphia. I knew Eddie Sawyer was the manager, and I asked how Eddie felt about it. John said, 'I'm doing the hiring, don't worry about it.

 

"So I came up, happy to be there. We opened in Cincinnati, got beat, and were coming home to play Milwaukee, and Eddie resigned. I got another call from Quinn, this time saying he was appointing me manager for the home opener, for one night.

 

"One night? I knew why. and I didn't mind. They had hired Gene Mauch, but Gene needed a couple of days to get here. I was in charge until then.

 

"I'll never forget that night. We beat Milwaukee, 5-4. in 10 innings, one of the biggest thrills I ever had.

 

“Curt Simmons was my pitcher, and in the third inning he got hit pretty hard. I think Hank Aaron homered, so I put in Ruben Gomez and got three pretty good innings from him, then pinch-hit for Gomez and went with Don Cardwell.

 

"This is where it gets good... We were in the seventh, a run down, Cardwell was pitching well, and I made up my mind, if the leadoff guy in the inning got on, I was gonna hit for Don.

 

"But nobody did, I let him bat, and he hit a home run to tie it. He really ripped one, and everybody in the stadium must've thought I really knew what I was doing. Then in the 10th, Bobby Del Greco got on, stole second and scored on a single by Joe Koppe. Hell, I looked pretty smart right about then. I've always wondered if I might've gotten along better with Mauch if I had lost."

 

Mauch arrived, introduced himself to the staff, then told Cohen and Ken Silvestri they wouldn't be back.

 

"He was young, full of pep." Cohen recalled. "He was gonna steal games from all the other managers. As he grew older, he matured... mellowed, became a good baseball man."

 

Andy Cohen says he's retired now, "because it seemed like it was time to do that." He visited once with Dallas Green at a Phillies tryout session in Pans, Texas, but now he's content mostly to watch the games on TV, alone with a lifetime of thoughts.

 

Let the record show that 1960 was the last year he worked in the major leagues.

 

•

 

Saul Rogovin was the guy with the lo-o-ng. slo-o-o-o-ow windup, back in '55 and '56. The cynics said Saul used to take occasional naps in the dugout.

 

"I did, too." he was saying on the phone from New York, where he teaches English at Charles Evans Hughes High, "but not for the reasons everybody thought.

 

"It was through certain psychological pressures, a defense mechanism. Those naps were never controlled. It wasn't as if I'd just settle in and nod off.

 

"It was more like a blackout, lasting a short time. I took medication to help me, but only on the days I was pitching. People thought I didn't care, but that was never the case. And I didn't like the medication, either, because I had bad reactions to it.

 

"I pitched good ball while I was there. I just wish, someday, they'd invite me to one of their Old Timers games. I'd love to come. Other than that, I'm happy they're in a World Series."

 

The Phillies got him from Baltimore, something Saul remembers as a good move.

 

"We were a last-place club in Baltimore." he said, "and I had lost seven, eight games, so they released me. I felt I could still help somebody, so I sent telegrams to all the big-league teams, and Roy Harney then the general manager with the Phillies was the only one to respond.

 

"I won five games in '55, seven in '56. A lot of players called me a junkball pitcher, thought I had nothing, but I had pretty good results, a nice, rising fastball. In '55, we needed one win to clinch fourth place, they asked me to pitch, and I beat the Giants in the Polo Grounds.

 

"But by '57, they had Jack Sanford coming back from the service, Dick Farrell, Jack Meyer, Jim Owens... and those fellas could throw a ball through a wall. My time was up. I was 35, 36 years old, they didn't need me anymore."

 

He sounds like a sensitive man, who understands the spectrum of emotions that can engulf an athlete.

 

"I'd like to be at the Series," he said. "When they jump around, celebrate, I know how they feel. And I understand how (Houston's) Jose Cruz felt, after the playoffs, sitting there, staring off into space. I know what was in his' mind, too.

 

"You get so few thrills like that in a lifetime, it's a peak experience. How often does it come along for any one player? The Phillies won, I used to play for the Phillies, I was wishing I could be out there with them."

 

•

 

Gene Conley was here in '59. Eddie Sawyer was his manager, Robin Roberts his roommate.

 

"People try to tell me it was hard to play in Philly, but I never felt that way," Gene said from Foxboro, Mass., where he owns an industrial packaging supply business.

 

He had a fascinating career, because he pitched in the majors in the summers, then played forward for the Boston Celtics in the winters.

 

"I won 12 games by August in 59," Gene said, "and one day I got hit with a pitch, in the opener of a twi-night doubleheader, when the ball was a little hard to see.

 

"I got hit on the hand, broke two bones. But I didn't say much. I went out and finished the game, using ice packs and ice water between innings. Just dazzled 'em... at least that's the way I like to remember it. Then I went to a hospital, had a cast put on."

 

He says he thoroughly enjoyed his dual careers, but any time anyone asks, they also ask about the time Gene Conley said he was giving it all up to fly to Israel.

 

"That was in '61, and I was with the Red Sox by then," he said. "I was a tired guy, had played 13 straight seasons, and it was catching up with me.

 

"I pitched in New York, they made three, four errors behind me. I said if I had won, I thought I had a chance to go to the All-Star Game, but instead I got bombed, took off for four, five days, physically and mentally exhausted. I knew I had to get straightened out, and as I think about it now, can you think of a better place to do that than Jerusalem?"

 

•

 

Lovable, controversial, celebrity-oriented Bo Belinsky was here in '65 and '66, rode the roller coaster for as long as he could, then retreated to the bottom of the bottle.

 

He's in San Diego now, working for the Padres and running Operation Cork, an alcohol and drug-abuse awareness program.

 

"I'm an alcoholic," Bo said, "but I've been sober for five years. The program we have, Joan Kroc (wife of Ray Kroc, the Padres owner) is behind it, it's important to her. I ought to be good at it, I tell everybody, 'cause it's supposed to take one to know one.

 

"I hit the bottom five years ago, had to give up the old ways and start over. I was given a gift... I was given back my life, because I was a dead man, one who was either gonna really die or end up in an asylum.

 

"A guy in a society that does such things carried the message to me. I was in a rehabilitation ward, a place I had been before, but by now I was probably going insane. For whatever reason, it was finally my time to listen."

 

Anyway, Bo says he's rooting for the Phillies.

 

"For a few reasons." he said. "First, my family still lives up in Trenton, N.J. Second, 'cause the Carpenter family was always nice to me. And, third, because of Pete Rose, who helped me get to Cincinnati in 70, the last year I played, when I was just hangin' on. People may have a different view of Pete, but I know him as a kind man."

 

He came to the Phils from the Angels, and the coast-to-coast move was traumatic.

 

"I was indoctrinated to the California life by then, to Hollywood, to the glamor." he said. "Going to Philly at that point, even though I liked the town, was like being sent to Siberia.

 

"It was almost like being railroaded, but for another reason. I had had some trouble, had been suspended, and it was either go to Philly or give up playing in the big leagues. I think the deal involved Rudy May.

 

"So I showed up, cracked a rib in spring training. It was the year after they blew the pennant, and Mauch didn't want anybody in the training room, didn't want to hear about injuries. I played hurt, really struggled, and didn't produce. Didn't? I couldn't.

 

"But hard feelings? Hell, no. Hey, I picked 'em to win the Series in five."

 

•

 

Winning in '80 may have exorcised the memories of '64 for some, but not for everybody. Not for Frank Thomas, who lives in Pittsburgh, working for the ICM School of Business, visiting schools, suggesting educational alternatives.

 

"I came from the Mets to the Phillies, on a bus, literally," Thomas said. "We rode in to play here, I got off the bus, was told I had been traded, and just switched clubhouses.

 

"I went in and asked Mauch what he had in mind. He said I'd be playing against lefties, but that that could change. So I went out and got two hits off Al Jackson, and played the rest of the games in '64 until Sept. 8, when I broke my thumb.

 

"I broke it in the fourth inning of a game, didn't say anything, got two more hits, used ice between innings. After the game, I got a big can, filled it with ice, put my hand in it and slept that way. I woke up the next morning, it was all red and swollen, I went to the doctor.

 

"I told him not to tell anybody, to give me a shot of pain-killer so I could grip the ball. He said he couldn't do that, that he had to put it in a cast. So I could hit, but I couldn't throw.

 

"Gene asked me if I could play, I said I probably could, but that I'd hate to be in a position where I had to make a crucial throw – like to the plate – and not be able to do it. I didn't want to cost the team a game. From that point on, things seemed to go the other way.

 

"The next year, they got Dick Stuart, Gene told me not to worry, but he stopped talking to me. I played maybe five innings all spring. It was as if breaking my thumb had been my fault."

 

Thomas had some fun, challenging guys to throw their best fastballs, catching them barehanded.

 

"Don Zimmer was the toughest," he remem- bered. "He took a running start, got to 60 feet, 6 inches and threw me a spitter. But I caught it, he threw his glove in the air, said he was a believer."

 

And then there was the unfortunate incident with Richie Allen, then a young slugger.

 

"What I remember," Thomas said, "is that the club handled it so poorly. For one thing, I wasn't the one who started it. And Richie, he had a chance to be the greatest player who ever lived. He used to go to Mauch, and ask that I play first, 'cause he was playing third and knew he could throw as hard as he needed to, that I'd handle it."

 

But one day on the field, Richie and Frank came to blows.

 

"Ahh, I was sucker-punched," Frank Thomas said. "I said some things I never should have said. I even went to Richie afterward, told him how sorry I was, how unfortunate it was. He told me to get away from him. I remember telling Wes Covington that I knew right then I had lost my job.

 

Wes said it wouldn't happen, that he'd go on the radio and explain what really happened. He did, too.

 

"But Gene called me in, said I was being placed on waivers, that somebody would claim me. I told him it was unfair. He said, 'You're 35, he's 23." I'll never forget that I called John Quinn, but he said he had to stick with his manager. I was the scapegoat, and I knew it."

 

He sounds like a happier man now.

 

"I visit the schools, tell 'em that even if you play ball for 20 years, you'll only be maybe 38 when you're finished, that you've got the rest of your life to live and work," he said. "You need to be prepared.

 

"Take me. People told me, when I was done playing, that I'd work in baseball. They'd tell me, when it was time, to call, that there'd be something. Well, I got done and called... called and wrote to 24 teams, got only five replies. It made me wonder.

 

"Is it because of the incident with Allen? I don't know what else to think. I thought, 10-15 years later, people would forget. But what happens is, they forget you."

 

•

 

Mack Burk was here for two seasons, batted twice the whole time, and loved it. Frank Sullivan was here in '61, suffering through a 23-game losing streak, and hating it.

 

Burk was a catcher who had to stay on the varsity roster because his bonus was more than $4,000. He lives in Pasadena, Texas, a half-mile up the road from Gilley's, the fabled gathering place in "Urban Cowboy."

 

"They're making a mint in that place," Mack said, taking a break from a busy wholesale electrical supply business. "They pack it every day... the people who go regularly, and the ones who know it from the movie. I've been over a couple times myself.

 

"My days with the Phillies... I loved 'em. I was 20, a kid, and I was in heaven. Pinch-hit once in '56, got a single up the middle against Joe Nuxhall. Then I got up against Johnny Antonelli in '58, and struck out.

 

"But I remember the players... Robin Roberts, Andy Seminick. Ruben Amaro, Art Mahaffey, Willie Jones. Willie, he had the ugliest feet in baseball, but he was like a father to me. They all were. I'd loved to have stayed, but I spent five years in pro ball, decided I wasn't getting anywhere, and didn't want to spend my life doing it. No regrets, either."

 

Frank Sullivan? He's the golf pro at Kauai Surf GC in Lihue, Hawaii, trying to forget the agony of a 23-game losing streak.

 

"Those were awful times for me," he said through the echo of a distant phone line. "Most of my good times were with Boston, where I was a pretty good pitcher.

 

"They traded me for Gene Conley. I felt at the time that that meant he was going to the majors and I was going to the minors. I mean, Philly wasn't such a nice place to go back then. Eventually, I went from there to Minnesota to Hawaii. I've been at the golf club for 12 years."

 

•

 

A team goes 30 years between pennants, it tends to have more characters than character.

 

It is 1980. the Phillies have the National League pennant tucked away, not to mention a two-game lead on Kansas City in the World Series.

 

If the guys with character are the ones out there playing, the cast of characters from three decades are out there watching, some of them cheering, some of them jeering.

 

But they're out there... somewhere in time, most of them doing just fine, thrilled that anybody even remembers.