Camden Courier Post - October 23, 1980
Champion Phils conquer Philly
By Dennis M. Culnan of the Courier-Post
PHILADELPHIA – They marched down Broad Street like a Roman legion returning to the Coliseum With the spoils of victory.
The men who conquered the baseball world rode from the high-rise canyons of center city to the broad expanse of South Philadlphia's sports stadiums yesterday through a shower of confetti and computer tape.
The Philadelphia Phillies, after 97 years of trying, finally won the World Series – the ultimate honor in baseball – and the city was at their feet.
They had band music and cheering. They had pretty girls and beautifully loyal fans. They had glory and honor and a day of their own declared by Pennsylvania Gov. Dick Thornburg as "Philadelphia Phillies World Championship Day."
Their parade cut its way through 600,000 human beings who pressed the patient but sturdy police lines.
The only thing missing in yesterday's triumphant march seemed to be the vanquished Kansas City Royals being dragged behind in chains.
The near century-long drought for the Phillies ended Tuesday in the sixth game of the best-of-seven game series. After a season of fighting themselves, their fans, their manager, other teams and the press, the Philadelphia Phillies beat the favored Royals.
They did it against the odds, winning four of the six games in dramatic style. Five of the games were cliff-hangers decided in the final inning as the Phillies batted their way from behind to victory.
The tendency earned them the nicknames "Comeback Kids" and "Cardiac Kids."
It's been five years since the Philadelphia Flyers won back-to-back Stanley Cup Hockey Championships and gave hundreds of thousands of fans a reason to go wild in the streets without being arrested.
The city appeared to have learned from its Stanley Cup parade experiences. The parade was better organized, more disciplined and less chaotic.
Police Commissioner Morton Solomon said 500,000 persons' lined the Phillies parade route and 85,000 were in John F. Kennedy Stadium for the rally.
Thirteen flag-draped flatbed trucks under heavy police escort pulled out at 20th and John F. Kennedy Boulevard at 11:30 am and moved down to Market Street and east towards City Hall.
The three wagons containing the players, team officials and Mayor William Green were flanked by a cordon of Philadelphia patrolmen. Thirty white-helmeted, black-booted officers with night sticks drawn, marched three abreast beside each wagon.
A troop of mounted police and a motorcycle escort spearheaded the parade through the converging crowds.
The conquering Phillies rolled down Broad Street past the city's sports complex to the stadium – a 15-minute drive that took almost two hours to complete.
As the convoy moved along the parade route, a cascade of confetti, toilet paper, shredded newspapers, computer tapes – 150 tons, official say – filled the bright autumn sky.
The roar of hundreds of thousands of fans vibrated windows around City Hall. From their trucks, the Phillies cheered back.
Dressed in street clothes with their wives and children at their sides, the Phillies waved and defiantly pointing their index fingers toward the sky, shouting, "We're Number 1! We're Number 1! We're Number 1!"
Paul Owens, the tall, balding general manager and architect of the World Champion Phillies, held his arm high. He was flanked by his battleworn field general, coach Dallas Green, his long suffering and patient young owner, Ruly Carpenter.
In a touch of irony, Owens, nicknamed "The Pope," was retracing in reverse the path of Pope John Paul II through Philadelphia.
In comparison, the crowd that greeted the real pope was much larger – a million along the route and 750,000 in Logan Square. The crowd was also older, more reverent – a praying crowd.
Yesterday's crowd was younger, swelled by school children who sleep with baseball gloves under their pillows, teen-age groupies and Walter Mittys in the pinstriped suits who wanted to be kids again, if for only an hour.
They were hanging out windows 20 stories high, they climbed up telephone poles and onto roof tops.
Even the steps of funeral parlors along South Broad Street were overflowing with screaming fans.
The white uniforms of doctors and nurses filled the roof of the Methodist Hospital Annex in South Philadelphia and from the eighth-story windows of the hospital nurses in surgical gowns waved wildly to the Phillies.
The kaleidoscope of humanity included a red devil skating down Broad Street with his tail wagging behind him, a young man painted waist to head in Phillies red and a buxom "Orphan Annie" in a radiant wig of Phillies red.
It was the spectacle of Catherine Fern Towne, a 68-year-old woman who declared herself the unofficial majorette for the parade.
As the parade moved toward the stadium, tens of thousands of fans followed, confounding efforts by police to count them.
"We find ourselves counting some of these people 10 times," a police official said. "Giving a crowd estimate for a Mummers parade is easy because people stay put. Today they're moving with the parade."
When Pope John Paul II passed along Broad Street over a year ago, mothers held their babies to be blessed by the holy man.
When Pope Owens and his Phillies passed, the mothers held their babies up again, not to be blessed, but to get a glimpse of a once-in-a-century event.
Unlike the Flyers parade of 1975, the crowd never overran the Phillies convoy as it moved smoothly down the route.
The crowds' enthusiasm surprised even the players.
"The parade was awesome, the crowd at the stadium was awesome. I can't believe it," said Phillies outfielder Garry Maddox. "I thought the greatest day I had was last night when we won, but this adulation is overwhelming."
For Phillies first baseman Pete Rose, who was in two World Series celebrations in Cincinnati, the Philadelphia parade was the greatest of all.
"They didn't compare to this, they even close," he said.
"It's a great thrill," said third baseman Mike Schmidt, the series Most Valuable Player.
While the fans cheered after every word spoken by their heroes, it was relief pitcher Tug McGraw who drove them wild.
"All through baseball history Philadelphia had to take a back seat to New York," said the former New York Mets pitcher. "Well, New York can take this baseball championship and stick it!"
With the speeches complete, the players' were escorted from the stadium and transferred to buses which spirited them to their cars parked at the Philadelphia Art Museum. There, these modern-day sports gods climbed behind the wheels of their cars and drove away with their families as anonymous mortals battling the afternoon traffic.
Scalpers’ best laid plans go awry
By Linda Jankowski of the Courier-Post
PHILADELPHIA – As the saying goes, all things come to those who wait.
Diehard Phillies fans waited 97 years to see their team bring home a world championship. But the wait for cheaper Phillies memorabilia was much shorter for the throngs who packed Broad Street and John F. Kennedy Stadium for the city's wild victory celebration yesterday.
When the Phillies shed their no-win image by beating the Kansas City Royals 4-1 Tuesday night, Phillies souvenirs suddenly became collector's items. And as expected, the prices went sky high and Phillies fans became targets for enterprising people looking to make an easy dollar.
The 1980 World Series programs, when they were available, normally sold for $2.50 each at the games.
But after Tuesday night's championship clincher, ambitious entrepreneurs who had bought armloads of programs at face value were asking and getting $10 a throw.
Then as the baseball season came to a close yesterday morning, early-bird hawkers were back in South Philadelphia with their leftover programs, hoping, as one man said, "to clean up 'cause nobody's got any more but me."
But even the best-laid plans of Philadelphia hawkers don't always work out.
Not only were the early arrivals at the stadium not interested in buying programs, but Veterans Stadium vendors also showed up with 20,000 programs that had been saved specifically for the victory party.
And those programs were going for only $2.50 each, quickly convincing the hawkers to drop their prices to $3 and grab the fans early.
Red and white pennants boasting "Phillies 1980 World Champions" and the names of each of the Phillies World Series players had been steadily selling for $3 each, but soon jumped to $5 per pennant after the winning game.
Yesterday morning they were down to $3 again and by mid-afternoon the price sunk to only $2.
Not realizing that some of the pennants said only "Phillies" or "1980 World Series, Philadelphia Phillies vs Kansas City Royals," some fans were angry that they had paid any amount for a pennant that did not proclaim their team as the world champion.
While waiting for the parade on Broad Street, one woman tried desperately to bargain with a vendor to exchange a pennant she had purchased earlier from another vendor.
"But this isn't a real one," she said, tit doesn't . say they're number one. I have to have a real, one."
Replied the vendor: "It’ll cost you three dollars, lady, or you can buy a red pen and write 'World Series Champions' on it yourself."
The lady paid the money.
T-shirts that came in all sizes and colors and with a variety of slogans were selling for between $4 and $7 dollars during the series. They jumped to a high of $10 each and slid quickly down to $4, $5 and $6 yesterday.
Just about anything that promoted the Phillies as the 1980 World Champions was going at a reduced rate by rally's end.
"Well, I can't sell them next year," mumbled one hawker in the middle of his non-stop chanting.
White and royal blue Kansas City baseball hats were hard to find. But those available were selling for about $4 on Broad Street.
About the only rates that weren’t deflated were for hotdogs, pretzels and sodas at makeshift food stands, where the lines were the longest.
Just about everyone who had something to sell, no matter what the price, had a buyer.
Well, almost everyone.
One young man, who refused to give his name, saying, "I'm from New Jersey," just couldn't find a buyer for his goods.
"Who needs two? I got two tickets for game seven. Last two tickets for game seven. Goin' cheap. Twenty apiece," he shouted.
After being told that there would be no game seven, he simply shrugged.
"Hey, these are collector's items. You could be holding tickets for the game that never was. These are gonna be worth somethin'," he said as he headed off in search of a buyer.
"Got two tickets for game seven here. Who needs two for game seven?"
Work? School? Forget it
By Rusty Pray of the Courier-Post
PHILADELPHIA – Talk about concentration.
Morris L. Kanoff, a city sign painter, sat inside the front window of the Industrial Valley Bank, meticulously printing the company's name on the glass in gold-leaf lettering.
Through the window directly in front of him spread the panorama of Market Street – and the thousands of keyed-up fans who had come to see the Philadelphia Phillies' World Series victory parade.
Kanoff tried not to look beyond his lettering.
"I'm concentrating on my work, although it is hectic out there. Slowed me down a little," the 60-year-old sign painter said.
Kanoff seemed to be the only person actually at work on Market Street, where the parade began.
Employees lined the windows of of f ice buildings to wave and gawk at the crowd below.
Signs reading, "Go Phillies," "Tug (McGraw) for President," and "We're No. 1" hung in many office windows.
Most banks along Market Street closed for the duration of the parade so employees could join in the city-wide celebration.
A notice reading, "Due to Parade, Branch Closed 10 a.m. to ?" was posted on the doors of the Philadelphia National Bank.
Joan Quann of Philadelphia, who works in the Industrial Valley Bank building, said the many other businesses located in the bank's 32-story office center also had closed for the parade of the champions.
"This euphoria is unreal " she said, as she joined the jubilant crowd. "I'm just terribly, terribly elated!"
One man took a break from the business appointments that brought him all the way from Newfoundland to Philadelphia.
"I just thought I'd come see what the hell all the fuss was about," he said. "Somehow, you get the impression this city needs something to cheer about. Now they've got something to cheer about. And I'm glad for them."
For vendors, restaurant employees and sales clerks in many stores, business was brisker than usual on a day when they would have enjoyed a parade break, too.
Sue Zack, a clerk at a Kodak film store on 17th Street, said she couldn't even guess how much film she sold to fans who wanted to take pictures of the Phillies.
"I didn't count anything up yet," she said, "I didn't get a chance. They've been coming in since eight this morning."
Many of the 500,000 fans who lined the parade route had taken unauthorized breaks from their normal weekday activities.
Andy Shaifer, 15, of Mount Airy, and Tripper Davis, 16, of Abington, should have been in their classrooms at the Penn Charter School in Germantown.
Instead, they were standing on a corner in Center City, searching for two friends who had left them to find better vantage points for the parade.
"The teachers said if you got a note, they'd let you slide," said Shaifer, whose favorite Phillie is Manny Trillo. "Please put that in about Manny Trillo," he added.
A spokesman for the Philadelphia Board of Education said many classrooms were empty yesterday.
"We don't have figures," he said. "But you figure this (a Philadelphia World Series win) hasn't happened in 98 years. And, well, kids are kids."
South Jersey school officials were saying pretty much the same thing as they tallied absentees late yesterday.
Highland High School in Gloucester Township reported 50 to 60 percent of its 1,970 students were absent yesterday. Nearly half of Haddonfield Memorial High School's 811-member student body stayed away from school, and a third of the 3,000 students at Cherry Hill High School East played hooky.
Students at the Kingsway Learning Center, a Haddonfield school for children with learning difficulties, didn't have to play hooky to honor the new baseball champions.
The 3- to 12-year-olds staged their own victory parade yesterday through the center of Haddonfield.
Drivers on Kings Highway honked their horns, and merchants and shoppers cheered at the children, who carried pennants and wore Phillies hats, shirts and uniforms.
"I've never seen the school so hyped up in my life," said school director David Panner. "It's nice to see kids be happy.”
At JFK, a sea of red
By Theresa A. Glab of the Courier-Post
PHILADELPHIA – The Phillies wore street clothes – gray, blue denim and tones of tan – but their fans supplied row upon row of red and white in John F. Kennedy Stadium yesterday.
Although the baseball champions were out of uniform, the followers who came to celebrate their World Series success were in ninth-inning form: Roaring their approval, waving Phillies pennants and chanting, "We're No. 1."
The "we" was appropriate, the Phillies said, calling them "the world's greatest fans."
"I never saw so many sincere faces like I saw in that parade today," said third baseman Mike Schmidt, who was voted the Most Valuable Player of the Series.
"Take this world championship and savor it, because you all deserve it," he said.
Paul Owens, who took over as general manager of the team in 1972 when it was a last-place club, told the fans, "The one thing I promised I'd bring to you was a pennant and a World Series. Your reaction today made it all worthwhile."
The devotees in the stands, who, were mostly in their teens and 20s, had no memories of the Phils' four-in-a-row defeat in the 1950 Series. But there were some veteran fans like Dot Hershman of Southwest Philadelphia, who said she "left seven kids at home to be here.
"This is my celebration; I have, waited years for this."
When the victory parade reached, the stadium, the championship trophy – featuring a silver baseball beneath a golden crown and surrounded by flags of the 26 major league teams – was placed on a pedestal aboard the flatbed truck bearing Pennsylvania Gov. Dick Thornburgh, Philadelphia Mayor William J. Green, Phillies Manager Dallas Green and players from the starting lineup.
Each of the team members, who were scattered atop three trucks, was introduced to the crowd. Several – catcher Bob Boone, pinch hitter Del Unser, shortstop Larry Bowa, first baseman Pete Rose, relief pitcher Tug McGraw and Schmidt – took the microphone to say "thanks" to the fans.
The others – including pitching ace Steve Carlton who wore a gray, vested suit and white shirt in contrast to his teammates' casual attire – waved in acknowledgement of the crowd's cheers.
The gates to the stadium opened ai 8 a.m. – an hour sooner than originally announced – and the earl birds trooped down to the front-and center seats.
From 9 a.m. until the Phillies' arrival shortly after 1 p.m., the growing crowd was entertained by rock music, both recorded and live. During periods of restlessness, young fans tossed rolls of toilet tissue through the stands and set off some firecrackers.
The disturbance stopped after a disc jockey reminded them of the safety hazards from firecrackers.
They painted the town Phils red
By Linda Jankowski of the Courier-Post
PHILADELPHIA – The color was red. The name was Phillies. The feeling was ecstasy.
Chugging cans of beer and bottles of champagne, thousands and thousands of flag-carrying, cheering, euphoric fans jammed South Philadelphia along Broad Street and at the sports stadium complex yesterday waiting for a glimpse of their heroes – the 1980 World Champion Philadelphia Phillies.
There was no school, no work, no anything more important for a Phillies fan than being there for the celebration of the century.
"Talk about Schaefer City! We're in Phillies Country! We're number one! Number one!' screamed a bare-chested youth as he jabbed his clenched fist into the air.
They came from Center City, the Northeast, South Philadelphia, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, New York, Virginia and even further.
They were noisy, even rowdy, but for the most part, orderly. The mayhem that was predicted never was.
And they wore red – red T-shirts, red jackets, red pants, red baseball hats, red anything. Even their faces and chests were painted red. And there were a lot of naturally red eyes – the remains of an all-night victory celebration.
Even Santose wore red – a red and white striped Phillies shirt and nothing else.
But he didn't get arrested for indecent exposure.
Santose is only three years old. And besides, said his owner, Doberman pinschers don't have to wear clothes.
Bill Nye's cheeks and face said "Phillies" and his chin said "#1" – all in red.
"It's the biggest celebration in Philadelphia history," he said as his friends from Deptford neatly stacked more than three dozen empty beer cans along Broad Street. "They proved all the critics wrong. Nobody said they could do it and they did it. That's why they're number one. They'll always be number one in our eyes."
"I had to be here. It was 30 years of waiting," said Frank Kearney of Pennsauken. "It was a great thrill and to be here is even greater. It's an honor. It makes the city proud again."
"We'll go back to work tomorrow. Now we're here to celebrate," he said as he headed to John F. Kennedy Stadium with his wife, Carol, and two mini Phillies fans, 3-year-old Brian and 2-year-old Danny.
Most of the fans knew exactly where they wanted to be, either in the stadium to get a good seat or on Broad Street to wait for the parade. One tearful woman knew where she was and didn't want to be – South Philadelphia. With Broad Street closed to traffic, she found her car forced into the wrong lanes by the human traffic jam.
Crying hysterically and begging for help, she found solace in a group of police officers who directed her out of the maze.
Some fans had no choice about where they were going. Fearful that she would lose her two toddlers, one woman tied ropes around their waists and attached them to herself .
As the Phillies neared the stadium, the fans chanted and most ran to get inside before the doors were locked.
Others stayed outside to get a good look at the champs.
And even though major league home-run leader Mike Schmidt was voted most valuable player for the World Series, it was relief pitcher Tug McGraw whose charms drew the most response from crowd.
Young female fans giggled and yelled, "Tug-ger, we love you," in squeaky voices. A few promised to faint if he touched them. But they couldn't get close enough.
But it was enough to simply see McGraw gulping beer, egging the fans on and shouting, "We're number one!"
By the time Tugger was out of sight and the parade wound itself into the stadium, it was nearly a full house, the gates were closed and thousands were locked outside.
"I can't believe this," said one woman. "I've been on Broad Street since seven o'clock and now I can't even get in."
"It was full when we got here," said Ida Donald from Philadelphia. "So I paid $8 to come out here and stand."
But fans with severe cases of Phillies fever weren't going to let some locked gates and a few attack dogs stop them.
Hundreds of them scaled a gate, inched along the top of an outer wall and finally climbed into the empty wooden bleachers that police had hoped would remain empty.
But apparently fearful that the fans would topple from the wall and hurt themselves, the end gates were opened and the fans rushed in midway through the festivities.
Philadelphia police officers – in riot gear, on horseback or holding attack dogs – were ready for any emergency.
The hundreds-of police officers were there mostly to discourage frenzied Phillies fever from turning into destruction.
Many stood in groups talking, watching the jubilant crowd and commenting on why they had to even be there.
"Everybody criticizes Philly fans," said one policeman. "Well look at these people. They're here to have a good time that's what they're doing. Nothing else."
"Look what they did in New York," said another officer, referring to 1977 when fans tore apart Yankee Stadium after the World Series. "You're not gonna see that here. This is Philadelphia and these are fans with class."
Undoubtedly, the fans agreed.
"We're the greatest fans in the world," said a teen-aged girl drinking wine. "And we got the greatest team in the world. We're all number one!"
Old fan’s wish: Glimpse of Phils as world champs
BRIDGETON – When 82-year-old James Boyce was admitted to Bridgeton Hospital Oct 12 with terminal cancer, his doctors said he had only a few more days left.
But Boyce told his family and doctors that he wasn't through with life just yet. He said there was one more thing he wanted to do before he died – see the Phillies win the World Series.
Boyce, who lives in Deepwater and has been a Phillies fan all his life, lived to see his dream come true. Now that it has, he says he is ready to die.
Shortly after the Phillies won the championship Tuesday night, his condition began to deteriorate. He was moved into the hospital's intensive care unit where he was listed in critical condition early today.
"He's a tough old man," said William McClain, night nursing supervisor at the hospital.
"We talked about it (the World Series) when I saw him this morning (yesterday)," said Boyce's 56-year-old son, Joseph.
"The first thing he said to me was, 'Goddam, kid, I can go now.'"
The younger Boyce said his father, who has lived in the same house on the Deepwater Canal since 1925, often took him to Phillies games, first in the Baker Bowl and later in Shibe Park, which was renamed Connie Mack Stadium.
"He followed both the A's and the Phillies – but the Phillies were his team," he said. "He had season tickets for the last four or five years."
"He had a Phillies hat but I couldn't find it when I tried to take it to him yesterday," Boyce said. "I know it's in the house somewhere. I think he has an autographed baseball, too... I think it was signed by (former Phillies' outfielder) Del Ennis."
"He's hanging on by the skin of his teeth," he said. "At least now he got his wish."
Winning with a touch of class
It's over and the Phillies won it. For the first time in nearly a hundred years, Phildelphia baseball fans don't have to wait until next year.
From the opening inning of the crucial series with Montreal until Tug McGraw struck out the Royals' Willie Wilson in the ninth inning Tuesday night to make the Phillies the 1980 World Champions, both diehard baseball fans and new converts caught up unaware in the excitement were treated to high sports drama.
The Phillies demonstrated the skills with bat and glove and on the bases that win games. But they displayed the added dimension – resilience – that turns mere winners into wearers of World Series rings. And they did it all in a way calculated to make a movie scriptwriter envious. Come-from-behind victories in three of the four games were embellished by perilously close calls directed by relief pitcher McGraw.
It was a good show and we congratulate the Phillies players and the entire Phillies organization for staging it just the way the fans had dreamed it would be.
For their part, the fans are also due some credit. The enthusiasm of the crowd at Vet erans Stadium certainly helped the Phillies over the rough spots against a game but outgunned Kansas City team. But the fans' finest hour came after the Series-ending strikeout. Philadelphia police officers, some mounted and some leading dogs, were on hand in force to see that post-game passions didn't get out of hand, but the fans didn't test the police mettle. They were content to cheer the champs from the stands for a full five minutes and thus allow the Phillies to enjoy an exuberant on-field celebration of their accomplishment free from fears for their personal safety and that of others.
It was a classy tribute to a classy team.
Area fans honor Phils
By Bob Kenney, Courier-Post Sports Editor
PHILADELPHIA – It has been a stormy love affair at best, but yesterday afternoon baseball's "Comeback Kids" enjoyed some blissful moments with their Philadelphia fans.
More than a million cheering fanatics lined the streets to pay tribute to the Phillies, who ended 97 years of frustration Tuesday night by winning a World Series championship.
It was fitting that reliever Tug McGraw, a guy who talks to leprechauns, would fire the game-winning strikeout under a full moon.
THIS WORLD championship team took on all comers, from the fans to the manager to the press. Yet it survived to make that long awaited, traditional victory parade down Broad Street.
The team that ignored the distractions to come from behind to win six playoff games rode through the city in a caravan of 13 flatbed trucks.
The team that spent the summer hiding from the media and blaming the fans for its slumps let its emotions run free as it made the 90-minute trip from center city to Kennedy Stadium.
"This is unbelievable," said Bob Boone, the catcher who ignored a painful ankle injury to bat .412 in the six games with Kansas City.
"THIS IS the most incredible thing I've ever seen. I guess they had a lot of time practicing."
Almost 100 years. Since May 1, 1883, to be exact.
No team in the history of professional sports ever waited longer for a championship. The Phillies were the last of the original major league baseball teams to win it all.
As losers, the Phillies were in a class by themselves.
PHILLIE TEAMS managed pennants in 1915 and 1950. They lost to Boston in five games after winning the opener. They lost to the Yankees in four straight in '50.
In between, the Phillies rested in the National League basement a record 24 seasons, lost 10 straight games at the end of 1964 to blow a 6½ game lead and lost playoffs in 1976, '77 and '78.
"All through baseball history," said McGraw, "Philadelphia has had to take a back seat. But today is their day."
People climbed light standards, peered from office windows and stood atop automobiles to catch a glimpse of the world champions.
"I NEVER saw so many people," said Del Unser, who delivered two clutch pinch-hit doubles in the series. "It was solid people, all the way. I'd say the fewest was about five deep in some places."
The players acknowledged the fans in their own way.
Pete Rose, in a Phillies tee shirt, waved and yelled as if he was a high school cheerleader.
Steve Carlton, the silent pitcher who won 27 games, stood tall, dressed in a three-piece suit. Never smiling, Carlton occasionally raised his finger in a No. 1 sign.
THE PARADE moved into Kennedy Stadium and 85,000 fans, on hand since early in the morning, stood and cheered for 12 minutes as the team circled the track.
Pennsylvania Governor Dick Thornburg proclaimed it Phillies' Day in the state. Philadelphia mayor Bill Green toasted the team. Both were booed in true Philadelphia tradition.
Owner Ruly Carpenter spoke and needled the fans. "Few people here didn't think we could win," said the DuPont heir. "But here we are."
Paul Owens, the general manager who molded the team from scratch, acknowledged the cheers emotionally.
"THE ONE thing I promised," said Owens, "was a pennant and a world series. Today you've made it all worthwhile."
The Phillies had drawn over two million fans the past five years. They come to the park sometimes to boo, but they come. They treat their team like family. It's okay to boo them, but don't let anybody else boo them.
When the team struggled this year, the players felt the frustration of the fans. A mid-season story linked the players with an amphetamine scandal and, even though they were cleared, some carried a scar.
SHORTSTOP Larry Bowa suffered the most. He turned on the fans, calling them the worst in baseball after one bitter performance. The fans reacted by booing their favorite shortstop. Bowa reacted by playing well above his norm, leading the team down the stretch.
"We had so many low points," said Mike Schmidt, voted the series MVP. "And they all came in front of the world.
"Losing three times in the playoffs was hanging over our heads. And that amphetamine thing was like a cancer on the whole team."
But they were all forgiven yesterday. The Phillies were the champions of the world. And the fans loved them.
"This is the greatest moment in my entire life," said the hyper Bowa. "I'm glad I can share it with the greatest fans in baseball.
"I said some things I really didn't mean. They're the greatest and they can brag all they want."
Young and Old Alike Share a Priceless Memory
By Ray W. Kelly of the Courier-Post
PHILADELPHIA – The couple stood on the back of the flat-bed truck with the bright October sun sending streaks of gold through the hair of his beautiful wife. And, as the din of 85,000 cheering fans washed over them like an ocean wave, he took her in his arms and kissed her long and hard.
It was one of a thousand glorious moments that were strung together like pearls on a precious necklace in what was called a victory parade. But for those fortunate enough to be in the eye of such stormy devotion- to be able to look out instead of looking in- it was something so grand and spectacular, it pushed all senses to the limit.
Like the kiss that John and Bonnie Vukovich shared at John F. Kennedy Stadium yesterday afternoon, you could just close your eyes and feel the affection.
"Let them all watch," called Vukovich, whose unflagging optimism and infectious clubhouse attitude had helped the Phillies believe in themselves. "I'm a world champion now. We're all world champions!"
That, more than anything, brought the multitudes into the streets of this city. The World Series victory belonged to the 1980 Phillies, but the spoils belonged to the people, who like Washington's army at Valley Forge, had endured the endless days of despair and wanting.
Time and again over the past few years, members of the Phillies had asked those who had witnessed the Flyers' triumphal marches through the city, "What will it be like if we ever win it all?"
And the answer was always the same: If you knew... if you had been there to see it for yourselves... you would want it and strive for it with every ounce of strength in your body.
The Phillies know now. They will never be the same.
"I often wondered what it would be like," said General Manager Paul Owens. "But it's impossible to describe."
There is too much magic in a Philadelphia victory parade:
To hear the band strike up and to move into a hurricane of love that swirls with posters, pennants, signs and smiles.
To look left and right and realize what it is like to share something special with more people than you could meet in a lifetime, people whose lives have been enriched and uplifted.
To look upward at the canyon of office buildings and see the sky filled with confetti and streamers. And you wonder if Lindbergh, MacArthur and Eisenhower all felt the same wonderful dizziness.
To laugh with the gray-haired lady in a majorette outfit topped with an Uncle Sam hat as she struts from City Hall to Vet Stadium declaring, "I'm 58 years old!" She finally meets her match in the form of a flag-draped man, who kisses her in the middle of Broad Street. Mr. and Mrs. Uncle Sam find happiness.
To look for a window that isn't filled with noses pressed up against it, a tree that isn't filled with celebrants, a parent who hasn't brought the next generation for a curbside glimpse of something they will tell their own children about... it is an impossible task.
To look behind, to the north, and see an ocean of people walking, running, dancing in the same direction you are traveling. Ahead, to the south, you see another ocean coming up to greet your arrival. All colliding merrily at a street called Elsworth- white, black, young, old, shirtless, shapely, shouting, chanting, pictures pinned to their jackets, on roller skates, on ledges, atop trucks, in doctor's robes, hospital green, devils' outfits, nun's habits, Phillies t-shirts and on to infinity.
And just when you think there cannot possibly be any more, the old, gray stadium that used to host the Army-Navy games looms on the horizon, announcing its presence with the combined cheering of 85,000 people.
Small wonder the generals of Rome's Empire longed for battle. The adulation of a triumphal return through the gates of a city is an experience that rings the ears like chapel bells and makes it hard to breathe.
The World Champion Phillies saw and felt it all. But they may have missed a stocky, little man with a face as Irish as the Blarney Stone as he stood in the crowd with his children and held up a sign that said, "Love thy neighbor... We do."
It was Jim Murray. He's the general manager of the Eagles. And you could see in his eyes what his heart was saying.
Knock Down Pitch Changed Series
By Rusty Pray of the Courier-Post
PHILADELPHIA – At the time, it really didn't seem that important. It was just one pitch among the thousand or so thrown during the six games of the 1980 World Series.
But just as surely as the Phillies yesterday paraded down Broad Street as world champions, so that single pitch changed the complexion of the Series and, consequently, altered the course of Philadelphia baseball history.
The pitched that changed the World Series was delivered by an unlikely source. It was not one of Tug McGraw's dramatic, bases-loaded strikeout pitches. It wasn't one of Steve Carlton's grabbing, biting sliders.
Indeed, it wasn't even a strike.
No, the pitch that turned the World Series around came from a young, righthanded reliever named Dickie Noles, who had spent the better part of three months doing little or nothing to advance the Phillies' cause.
It came in the fourth inning of Saturday's fourth game in Kansas City. And it came directly at the head of George Brett, he of the .390 batting average.
Perhaps had Noles thrown at, say, Frank White, little would have been said. Throwing at a hitter is a common enough practice. Batters know the brushback pitch is as much an occupational hazard as spike wounds. Why do you think helmets with ear flaps are standard dress? Unlike batting gloves, helmets are worn for more than show.
But throwing at George Brett, a bona fide American folk hero? How dare any pitcher dust off King George?
Which is exactly what must have been going through the mind of Royals Manager Jim Frey when he shot out of the first base dugout like a man who had just seen his franchise pass before his eyes.
Noles sent a legend sprawling as if that legend was some Joe Blow ballplayer from Houston or something. It was one of the most artfully delivered brushback pitches of the season, coming as it did on an 0-2 count with one out and nobody on base in a game already lost to the Phillies.
After the game, Noles just as artfully denied it. "I don't throw there, up and in, at nobody," he said. "If I hit anyone in the head, I'd feel like crap. A guy like Brett isn't going to let a pitch like that intimidate him."
Maybe not. But it certainly caused Frey some concern. "I thought it was a knockdown pitch and I wanted it stopped," said Frey. "I don't believe any of that bull about the ball just getting away from him."
Brett and his teammates recognized the pitch for what it was, but took it a little more philosophically than their manager.
"I don't know if Noles threw at me," said Brett, "but if the next pitch had been in the same place, I would've gone to the mound."
Shrugged Hal McRae, "The guy brushed him back, knocked him down."
Noles' next pitch was not at Brett's head. It was a slider in on the hands. Perhaps temporarily gun shy, Brett pulled away from the pitch and missed it. The next hitter, Willie Mays Aikens, also struck out and later admitted being more concerned with Noles throwing at him than making contact with the ball.
If you think all of this was just a one incident among many in the Series, consider what took place before the pitch. Then, remember what happened afterward.
The Royals had pretty much had things their own way through the first 30 innings of the Series. They had been digging in, hanging over the plate, watching their home runs.
Even in the first two games, both Phillies wins, the Royals hit the ball hard. They rapped three home runs off rookie Bob Walk in the opener, then cuffed Steve Carlton for 10 hits in the second. The Royals, most notably Amos Otis, did everything they could to disrupt Carlton's rhythm in the second game by stepping out of the box and calling time as Carlton went into his motion.
The reason the Phillies won the first two games had more to do with Frey's quick hook than with Phils' pitching.
Friday's third game seemed the turning point of the Series. The Royals won it in 10 innings and came out smoking the next day, raking starter Larry Christenson for four runs on six hits- including two doubles, a triple and a home run- in the first inning.
After Noles said "hello" to Brett in baseball's universal language, the Royals managed just one more hit, a single to center by Otis. In Sunday's fifth game, Kansas City got exactly three runs off a 22-year-old rookie. And, on Tuesday night in Veterans Stadium, Carlton blew them away with seven four-hit, shutout innings.
"The Royals were having fun, doing their thing, until Dickie sat Brett down," said one member of the Philadelphia organization. "He put him down, then denied the whole thing... It was beautiful."
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then Dickie Noles' brushback pitch was the prettiest thing the Phillies ever saw- next to the World Series rings they will be wearing on their fingers this winter.
Refunds to begin for Series tickets
PHILADELPHIA – Fans holding tickets for the unplayed Game Seven of the 1980 World Series may obtain full refunds in person beginning Mon. Oct 27 at two Philadelphia locations or directly by mail.
Refunds can be made in person at the Phillies ticket office at Veterans Stadium or the Phillies Center City ticket office at the Girard Bank, located at Broad and Chestnut streets.
Office hours at Veterans Stadium are Monday through Friday from 9 a.m. until 5 p.m. Office hours at the Girard Bank location are Monday through Friday from 9 a.m. until 3 p.m.
Refunds are also available by mail. Ticket holders should mail the unused tickets to: Philadelphia Phillies, P.O. Box 7575, Philadelphia, PA 19101.
Deadline for refund requests is Nov. 17.
Completion of series brings on reflections
By Will Grimsley of the Associated Press
Reflecting on the 1980 World Series, looking through the mirror darkly:
Mike Schmidt won the "Battle of Third Basemen," in the end outshining the celebrated George Brett for MVP honors.
"You can't compare Brett and me," Schmidt said after leading the Phillies to a clinching 4-1 victory over the Kansas City Royals Tuesday night. "George is a line drive hitter who strives to make contact with the ball. I am, of course, what you call a power hitter. We have different personalities.
"Brett is the best pure hitter in the game."
Statistics were close. Schmidt batted .381, with two homers, six runs scored and seven batted in. Brett, the year's .390 hitting marvel, batted .375 with one homer and three runs batted in. Both protected their field positions zealously.
Veterans Stadium was a camp under siege for the final game with more than 500 policemen in full riot gear, teams of snarling dogs and even a cavalry on horseback. Still one man was shot dead in the wild celebration that followed the Phillies' first world baseball championship in their 98-year history.
What makes normal citizens turn vicious animals after a sports event? Psychiatrists should put our psyche under a microscope.
America's favorite pastime at least produced some lasting value. Because of Brett's midseries medical problem, 700 sports writers learned to spell "hemorrhoids."
"Hey, Joe, has it got two 'm's' and one 'r,' or is it one 'm' and two 'h's?'"
Beats me, kid; let the desk catch it.
While on the subject of language, it's interesting to note how broadcasters have put a coat of sophistication on the game's colorful, age-old jargon. It used to be sufficient to call a pitch "fast," "low and outside" or "high and in tight." Now the microphone guys talk about "location" and "velocity," pontifical stuff. One was even heard to resurrect that outworn relic of the Watergate hearings, "At this point in time…”
Nevertheless, kudos to NBCs unpretentious Joe Garagiola, an old backstopper himself, and CBS' slick radio tandem of Vin Scully and Sparky Anderson.
Gutsy Pete Rose didn't slam four home runs, a la Willie Aikens, and he didn't bat .478 like Amos Otis – his statistics were zero homers and an anemic .261 at the plate. All he does is beat you.
While other grabbed the headlines, Pete's fighting spirit was woven into every phase of the Phillies' victory, from his hit-by-pitcher ploy in the opening game to keep a rally alive, to his three key hits and alert stab of Frank White's foul pop that jumped out of catcher Bob Boone's mitt in the ninth inning of the final game, helping snuff out a Royals' threat.
Tug McGraw, the Phillies' flaky, gregarious relief pitcher who appeared in four games, won one, lost one and saved two, repairs to his locker in the midst of the celebration and lights up a cigarette.
"No pictures, please," he says to cameramen, trying to catch him in the midst of a puff. "Image, image, you know."
Then he turned to the flock of crowding, pushing newsmen.
"Okay, Henry, first question," he said.
Then he held his arms wide and said, "I love this," proceeding to keep journalists cackling at his quips for nearly an hour.
Roll it – the next scene:
Steve Carlton, a tall, majestic figure – 6-5 and 219 pounds, his mouth twitching nervously, his eyes cold and flashing, steals silently through the mass of humanity and seeks, refuge in the trainer's room,
Winner of two games with a superb effort in the final, he shares the hero's halo with his "fireman," McGraw. Everybody would have liked to have seen Carlton – in this moment of ecstasy for a team and its city – flash just one smile and say a single nice word.
He doesn't. He adheres to his six years of lockerroom isolation – a brooding, mixed-up man.
"Too bad," said Sparky Anderson. "We all must give back to baseball something of what it gives us."
Ozark wishes he was part of Phils’ series celebration
PHILADELPHIA (AP) – As the Phillies grabbed the glory that comes with winning the World Series, the team's former skipper, Danny Ozark, watched on television and wished he was there.
"My wife and I both had a couple of tears in our eyes, of happiness," he said. "But I wish I'd have been there, to have been a part of it. I guess that's how my wife and I both feel about it."
Ozark, the manager who led the Phillies to the brink of National League pennants in 1976, ‘77 and ‘78, sat with his wife in front of their television at their home in Vero Beach, Fla., Tuesday night and watched the Phillies become world champs.
"It was very interesting to me, very exciting, and yet I was down because I wasn't there. We went through a lot of wars together, those players and me.
"But I can't be bitter," he said. "I might be hurt by some of the things that were said back then – some of them irked me a little bit – but, that's water under the bridge as far as I'm concerned."
Currently the third base coach with the Los Angeles Dodgers, Ozark said he paid close attention to the National League Championship Series and the World Series, even though he was driving to Florida from California.
"We stopped every day ' to watch the playoffs with Houston," he said. "My wife had a portable TV in the car so we could watch the day games.
"If it had been Montreal instead of Philadelphia, I probably wouldn't have watched it. But I still feel a part of Philadelphia because of the players."
Ozark believes the Phillies' clinching of the National League pennant in a nail-biting series against the Houston Astros was more important than their Series win.
"It's like Pete (Rose) says: The World Series is a secondary thing. The Series is for fun. The important thing is the pennant, and this year, the playoffs were, without question, more exciting than the Series."
Moments after the Phillies won Tuesday night, Ozark said his first call of congratulations went to Philadelphia catcher Bob Boone.
Yesterday morning, he said, he called Phillies owner Ruly Carpenter and General Manager Paul Owens to congratulate them.
"I was very happy for them and for the fans of Philadelphia," Ozark said, "but particularly for the players."
As for his successor Dallas Green's managing, Ozark said, "He used them just about the same way I did.
"He used everybody, and you have to use 25 men to win the pennant and the World Series."
Royals received by fans
KANSAS CITY, Mo. (AP) – Buoyed by a ticker-tape welcome from an estimated 100,000 fans, the Kansas City Royals returned home yesterday after their World Series loss and vowed to sweep to the world championship in 1981.
"The Royals are taking it one step at a time," Frank White, the team's gold-glove second baseman, told a throng of screaming supporters at a rally in a downtown park. "This year, the American League pennant. Next year, the World Series."
The players, along with coaches and Royals officials, attended the rally after being driven through the city's downtown in a tumultuous scene. The team arrived in Kansas City on a late-morning flight after losing to the Phillies 4-1 Tuesday night in the sixth and, as it turned out, the final World Series game of 1980.
The setting resembled a snowstorm as the motorcade passed between tall buildings on some downtown streets. Office workers, leaning from open windows, dropped showers of shredded paper on the players, who rode below in open cars. Police conservatively estimated the crowd for the festivities at 100,000.
Star third baseman George Brett rode in the parade on a horse decked out with a black and silver saddle. The loudest cheers came when Brett rode up in front of the stage at the rally at the Liberty Memorial.
Brett, loose and joking with the crowd, offered to play a song in honor of the fans on a trombone borrowed from a member of a high school band. "It may not sound good, but it's my version of, 'The Greatest Fans in the World,"' Brett said before blowing a few sour notes.
A few of the players were apologetic.
"I really don't feel we deserve this," said Hal McRae, the designated hitter. "But I really felt great in the parade, and I really felt I wasn't (great) after we lost."
Willie Wilson, the team's fleet left-fielder, had the dubious honor of setting a World Series record for six games by striking out 12 times. "I'm very deeply sorry that I couldn't perform the way people have been seeing all year," Wilson said to a chorus of "No!" from the crowd. "I guess I wanted it too bad. But one day we'll be World Series champions."
Fans at the rally and along the route held up dozens of signs for the players to read. One seemed to sum them all up: "Roses are red, Royals are blue, the Phillies won, but we love you."