Philadelphia Inquirer - October 23, 1980

A Day for a City to Fall in Love


By Frank Dolson, Inquirer Sports Editor


The day dawned bright and beautiful, but it didn’t really matter.  It could have been raining, sleeting, snowing in Philadelphia and the day would have dawned bright and beautiful.


This was the day the inhabitants of the nation’s fourth largest city temporarily put aside all their problems, all their worries, all their fears and joined as one in a salute to a professional baseball team.


It was a day when the incessant honking of horns signaled the winning of a championship, not a rush-hour traffic jam on the Schuylkill Expressway.


It was a day when Broad Street was transformed into a pulsating, surging sea of red hats and white pennants, a day when the old stadium in South Philly, the one that’s so big not even the Army-Navy game can fill it anymore, had people sitting- or standing- in the very top row, while thousands more waited outside to catch a glimpse of the athletes who, in the last 2½ weeks, had won a division title, a pennant and a World Series in the most dramatic manner imaginable.


Above all, it was a day when people remembered how to smile again.


This may be a city known for its tough, uncompromising sports fans, but on this bright and beautiful day guys named Schmidt and Bowa and Carlton and Maddox and McBride and Trillo and Boone and Rose and Luzinski- and especially McGraw- had this city, and those fans in the palms of their hands.


It didn’t matter that Bob Boone had struggled through so much of the long season, that mere mention of his name in the starting lineup had resulted in boos a month or so ago.  On this day they loved him.  It didn’t matter that Larry Bowa had incurred the wrath of the natives late last month by criticizing this town’s sports fans following a particularly grueling 15-inning struggle with the Cubs.  On this day they loved him.


On this day, it seemed, almost everybody in Philadelphia- certainly every last person along a parade route that started north of City Hall and wound up at Kennedy Stadium- loved everybody else.


There have been parades before.  There have been victory celebrations before.  But there was something special and beautiful about this one.  More than a parade, more than an excuse for hundreds of thousands of Philadelphians to wave pennants and put on red hats and shirts and climb trees and cling from lamp posts and hang out of windows and jam five, six, 10 deep along Broad Street and holler themselves hoarse, this was a day to laugh, to be happy, to feel good about yourself and your city.


Affairs such as this can grow messy, violent, downright scary.  The line between a mass celebration and an out-and-out riot is only to easy to cross.  But just as the 65,000-plus at the Vet Tuesday night brought honor to the city by their civilized actions, so did the half million or so who lines the streets yesterday and the mob that filed the huge horseshoe in South Philly.


A city that has become known over the years for its boobirds yesterday was filled with what can best be described as lovebirds.


“Love.”  The word kept popping up along the parade route.  The people loved the Phillies, they loved Tug, they loved Schmitty, they loved Lefty, they loved the idea of being No. 1.


Confetti, streamers, toilet paper floated down from the tall buildings near City Hall as the caravan of flatbed trucks rolled east along Market Street, then south on Broad.  The noise, at times, was almost deafening- every bit as loud as it had been the night before at the Vet when McGraw threw that third strike past Willie Wilson with the bases loaded and two outs in the ninth.  And yet, through it all, there was an overwhelming feeling of warmth of happiness, endless rows of smiling faces.  It seemed impossible for so many people who were so revved up to remain mostly good-natured, courteous, free of the ugly incidents that almost invariably mar events like this, but somehow they managed.


It was exhilarating rolling through center city on that flatbed truck with a blizzard of confetti falling, with people standing on roofs, sitting on ledges, peering out windows, waving, shouting, and always… always… smiling.


It was heartwarming to see the faces not only for the people along the way, but of the men they had come to honor.  If there had ever been the slightest doubt as to the depth of feeling that exists for the professional athletes of this city, it was surely dispelled on this day.


Construction workers wearing hard hats looked on from an unfinished building on 17th and Market, waving and yelling and smiling with just as much enthusiasm as any 6-year-old along the way.  A gray-haired man in a business suit watched from the roof of the Union League.  That was the beauty of this day.  Everybody seemed so eager to be a part of it.


As the two flatbed trucks carrying the players approached, people held up the front pages of newspapers and pointed to huge headlines that said, “Champions!” and “We Win!”


Wherever you looked, there were homemade signs, and most of them were directed at one man- the 36-year-old relief pitcher who brings out the little boy in all of us.  “Give Tug a Big Hug,” they read, and “McGraw for President,” and “How’s Your Heart, Tug?” (an a funeral home at Broad and Wharton) and “How Do You Spell Relief? - T-U-G” and, over and over again, “We Love Tug”.  What Jimmy Carter or Ronald Reagan wouldn’t give to reach the heart and soul of these people the way Frank Edwin McGraw had.


The joyful caravan kept edging its way south, passing Catharine Street, where two little boys held up large, carefully painted signs.  On one was the word “Love”.  On the other was the word “You”.  The child with the “You” unknowingly held his sign upside down, but nobody minded.  The message was clear.


The players were having a ball.  You could see it in their faces, in the way they waved to the people, the way they smiled at that sea of humanity.  But two men seemed to be having the best time of all.  Paul Owens, the general manager who had broken down and cried unashamedly the night before while the nation watched on TV, and Dallas Green, the manager who screamed and hollered and drove this team to the top, stood at the front of one of the trucks and looked, for all the world, like kids who were celebrating Christmas for the first time.  Again and again, Owens would reach out with his left hand, grasp Green’s right hand and hold it aloft in the manner of a fight manager after his boxer has won the big match.  And then Paul would wave his free hand in the air, and blow kisses to the adoring mob.


By now countless thousands were following the procession down Broad Street, keeping pace with the slow moving caravan, a tidal wave of red and white.  As the trucks moved past Methodist Hospital, where so many of the Phillies players had undergone elbow surgery or knee surgery over the years, Green spotted the doctors and interns lining the roof, clasped both hand over his head and gave them what appeared to be a most special salute.  Boone, who has spent more time than most there, saw them too, and waved his cowboy hat in recognition.


Finally, they reached JFK Stadium, where people had been waiting since early morning and, to thunderous cheers, circled the field twice.  It was a gripping sight- those thousands of white pennants waving- and that huge crowd on its feet, screaming.


Jim Murray, the general manager of the Eagle, stood in the front row holding a sign that read, “Love Thy Neighbor.”  Next to him, some of his children hoisted aloft a bigger sign:  “Dallas is green,  Cowboys are blue, Eagles are winners, Phillies are, too.”


Murray seemed as overwhelmed by it all as if his football team had just won the Super Bowl.  “The power to make people happy is awesome,” he said.


And these people were incredibly happy.  They chanted, “We want Tug,” they cheered when three Phillies- Dickie Noles, Warren Brusstar and Marty Bystrom- hopped off the truck and headed across the infield with a policeman excorting them to, presumably, the nearest men’s room.  When they returned, Noles raised a can of beer high over his head, then stopped long enough to lead a brief cheer.


The speeches, like the ball games that made all this possible, were almost perfect.  Even the politicians were brief.


“There are a few people here today who didn’t think this ball club could win,” owner Ruly Carpenter said, “but here they are.”


And they were all there- with the exception of Ron Reed- despite the long night of celebrating.  The early-season boos were a thing of the past.  Now they heard only cheers.  Now they felt a warmth toward these people that they had never felt before.


“Governor, mayor, and you beautiful fans,” Owens began, and any minute you expected to see the tears come cascading down his face again.  “The one thing I promised I’d bring to you was a pennant and a World Series someday.  Today just your reaction made it all worthwhile…”


Surely, Bowa welcomed that reaction and basked in it.  Boos?  What boos?  Bad fans?  What bad fans?  They were all on the same side now, all glorying in this city’s first baseball championship in half a century.


“This is probably the greatest moment of my entire life and I’m glad I can share it with the greatest fans in baseball,” he said.


Then it was Schmitty’s turn.  “I never say so many sincere faces in my life as I did in that parade today,”  the World Series MVP told the crowd.  “Take this world championship and savor it because you all deserve it.”


That was the message, delivered again and again- by Dallas Green, by Pete Rose, by Harry Kalas.


And then it was time for the one man they had come to hear, and to cheer, more than any other.  Tug didn’t disappoint them.


“All through baseball history Philadelphia has had to take a back seat to New York City,” the one-time Met star said after the cheers had subsided.  “But New York City can take this world championship and stick it.

The cheers grew louder, the smiles broader.


And finally the love-in was over, but the memory of these few hours when and entire city embraced a professional baseball team would live on.


“The happiest day I’ve had in my life,” gushed Owens, the man most touched by it all.  “It was great last night, but to see that enthusiasm, that adulation…  I dunno.  It seemed like everybody there was happy.  I’ve never been to anything like that.  You could feel it coming right off the street.  This was everything I thought it would be…”


And maybe just a little bit more.


We are beset with problems in these times, and those problems remain.  We’ve still got inflation.  We’ve still got bills to pay.  We still get caught in terrible traffic jams on the expressway.  We’ve still got hostages in Iran.  Nothing has really changed- and yet for one bright and beautiful day, and for the several days leading up to it, a professional baseball team made us forget- however temporarily- all our problems.  For that alone we should all be grateful.

All Aboard


SEPTA packs them in for a jubilant ride to the Phillies stadium party


By Frederic N. Tulsky, Inquirer Staff Writer


It was midday at the City Hall station.  As southbound Broad Street cars pulled in, enormous crowds anxious to beat the Phillies’ victory parade to JFK Stadium were waiting to greet each train.


“Excuse, ma’am,” one young man called from the platform to a middle-age woman, sitting next to an empty seat inside a car that had just arrived, “but is anybody sitting there?”  Told the seat was empty, the man and his friend quickly climbed in through the window.


It was a scene that was repeated countless times yesterday.


SEPTA, the troubled transit system, carried what may have been its biggest single-day crowd ever and did it, apparently, without any major breakdowns.  The jubilant crowds cheered and chanted their way to the celebration at JFK Stadium.


Along the way, however, the crowds in South Philadelphia grew so massive that, at mid-afternoon, SEPTA had to close off the Broad Street Subway stations until it could get cars to the crowds leaving the stadium.


“Having so many people concentrated in once place is like a sponge,” said authority spokesman Frank Friehl.  “You can only absorb so many and then there is nothing more you can do.”


Until that point, the crowds at Pattison and Oregon stations had grown so large that passengers could not even get down to the platform.  SEPTA put 70 extra busses on Broad Street for the stranded passengers, as service was closed much of the time between 2:15 and 3 p.m.  But the buses were running as expresses between the stadium and Center City and the drivers refused to allow passengers off at other normal stops.  As a result, several younger riders pushed windows out and jumped through to get off at South Philadelphia stops.


Crowds started jamming the 50-year old subway cars on the Broad Street line at 8:30 a.m.  “The term rush hour had no meaning today,” said Friehl.  “Standing loads started early, and they just never ended.”


He estimated that as many as 700,000 trips (350,000 riders) were taken on the Broad Street line yesterday, five times the normal figure.


By 10:30 a.m., the Market-Frankford elevated trains headed into Center City, both from the east and the west, also were standing room only.


“It’s all in a day’s work,” said SEPTA subway supervisor Hunter Edgerton, who was stationed at Walnut-Locust.  “At the end of the day, I’m going home just like any other day.”


But until that point, life was not so easy for Edgerton, and other SEPTA officials.  Trains leaving City Hall were so crowded that chief supervisor William Stark told them to bypass Walnut-Locust.  “I would rather be criticized,” he explained, “by someone who missed a stop, than to see someone killed trying to hand onto a bumper.”


As the trains drove past Walnut-Locust, a woman standing on the platform complained to Edgerton that SEPTA was not running as planned.  “With this many people,” he answered, “there’s no way to keep the schedules.”


When a train did arrive at the station, it was quickly filled by the large crowds.  A passenger who had been waiting at the platform, seeing the size of the crowd on board, asked Edgerton when the next train would come.  “I would advise you,” he answered, “to squeeze in there.”


Meanwhile, at City Hall, the supervisors had their own problems in handling the crowds.  At 1:30 p.m., Mike Pauciello turned to chief supervisor Stark and said, “Am I right that it’s only 1:30?  It seems like we’ve been down here a year and a half.”

And now, you could look it up


By the Associated Press


Steve Carlton and Tug McGraw, who combined for the Phillies' Game 6 victory Tuesday night, led a parade into the World Series record book.


Carlton, who also won Game 2, became one of many pitchers to go 2-0 in a six-game Series. No pitcher has won three games in a six-game Series.


McGraw became the first pitcher to post two saves in a six-game Series since the current save rule was established in 1969. Pittsburgh's Kent Tekulve has the overall save record, three, set last year in seven games.


And when McGraw struck out Willie Wilson to end it all Tuesday night, it marked the record 12th time Wilson had fanned during the Series. The previous record, 11, was set by Eddie Mathews of the 1958 Milwaukee Braves and tied by Wayne Garrett of the 1973 Mets.


The Royals' Willie Aikens became the sixth player to hit four home runs in one Series. Duke Snider did it twice. Lou Gehrig, Babe Ruth, Hank Bauer and Gene Tenace each did it once. The record is five, by Reggie Jackson of the Yankees in 1977.


Dan Quisenberry of the Royals became the first relief pitcher to appear in every game of a six-game Series, breaking the record of four held by Larry Sherry and Gerry Staley. The overall record is seven, by Darold Knowles of the 1973 Oakland A's.


Quisenberry also finished six games, tying Hugh Casey's overall Series record.


The Phillies' Larry Bowa set a record for shortstops by starting seven double plays. Phil Rizzuto of the 1951 Yankees held the old record of six.


Bowa also tied a six-game record with three stolen bases, matching the mark set by the Chicago White Sox' Eddie Collins in 1917. Lou Brock holds the overall record of seven steals.


Kansas City's U.L. Washington joined Wes Westrum, Roy Campanella and Brooks Robinson as the only men to hit two sacrifice flies in one Series.


Jose Cardenal endured a record wait before getting into his first World Series. The Royals outfielder appeared in 18 major league seasons before participating in the Series, tying a record held by Washington pitching great Walter Johnson.


The Phillies and Royals combined to bat an aggregate .292, breaking the six-game record set in 1953, when the Yankees and Brooklyn Dodgers hit a combined .290. The overall mark is .300, set by the Yankees and Pirates in 1960.


As a team, the Royals struck out 49 times, tying the six-game mark set by the 1944 St. Louis Browns. The Oakland A's of 1973 hold the overall record of 62.


Kansas City also drew 26 walks, tying a six-game record held by the Yankees of 1936. and 1951. The Yanks walked 38 times in 1947 for the overall mark.


Symbolizing their ultimate frustration, however, the Royals left 54 runners on base, a six-game record. The 1935 Detroit Tigers and 1944 St. Louis Cardinals had each left 51.


The combined total of 16 Series double plays, eight by each team, is a six-game record.


The Phillies used 10 pitchers, tying the six-game record set by the 1953 Brooklyn Dodgers. The 1946 Boston Red Sox used 11 pitchers in seven games.


For only the fifth time in history, both clubs went through the entire Series without getting a complete game out of their pitching staffs. The last time that occurred was in the 1974 between the A's and Dodgers.


Phillies manager Dallas Green became the first National League rookie manager to lead his club to the World Championship since Eddie Dyer of the 1946 Cardinals.


The last Philadelphia team to win a Series was the Connie Mack A's of 1930. They beat the Cardinals in six games. The Phillies, in 97 seasons, had never won a World Championship. No team has ever waited so long. And that's a record, too.

And to Think:  These Were the Guys Who Lost


By Steve Twomey, Inquirer Staff Writer


KANSAS CITY, Mo.- And George Brett rode a horse.


A big, skittish pinto named Ringo with a glittering saddle, and Gorgeous George sat up there in his jeans and work shirt and waved his big gray Stetson through the mad torrent of confetti, streaming paper and shredded ticker tape.


“Number one,” he yelled over the high school bands and the applause, and they yelled it right back.


Every head was mottled in red, blue and white dots from the confetti; every inch of 11th Street, Main, Grand and wherever else the parade snaked was ankle-deep in paper; every skyscraper suddenly seemed a vending machine, disgorging beautiful ribbons that danced and snapped in the fall breeze.


What would have happened if they had won?


It was, it seemed, a mere technicality that the home team had just lost the 1980 World Series.  This Royals-happy bend in the river awoke yesterday, discovered that the sun had come up again, realized that there would be life after Veterans Stadium after all, and went out and tossed a victory bash.


One hundred thousand skipped school, evacuated offices and fled the kitchen to show up.  They partied with style and grade- not a soul was arrested.  They know how to lose here.


And George Brett, the one they love the best, rode a horse.


“They’re still our Royals,” Ruth Botts, 54, said with a grin, waving two blue Royals pennants just minutes before Brett trotted by at 11th and Walnut.  “This is when they need us the most.  They probably need this more than we do.  Just because they lost is no reason to be mad.”


It was all delightfully silly, of course, because this is all just a game.  But, rightly or wrongly, the game can make people fell good about their towns, and the 1.3 million people of Kansas City feel pretty good right now.


“Actually, the Royals won, but Philly has suffered so much longer than we have we decided to let you have it,” laughed accountant John Hallows, 28, standing in his blue suit with a huge bale of cut paper in his right hand.  “We’re such a nice city.”


Certainly, there was a hint of sadness up and down the jammed hills of downtown, a longing for what might have been, a repeated “if only…”


Given that, they could have skipped the parade as too painful.  They could have gotten down on their teams, on Willie Wilson for not hitting or Rich Gale for not pitching or Jim Frey for not managing.  They could have booed their team.  But…


“Noooooo,” said Barbara Bruetsch, 30, “we couldn’t do that.  We love our Royals.”


Do they ever.  It wasn’t a parade, it was a three mile laugh.


There was the catcher, Darrell Porter, riding in the rumble seat of an antique car, so buried in confetti that only his head was visible.  There was relief pitcher Dan Quisenberry having a ball by firing back wads of paper as fast as they were fired at him.  Manager Jim Frey simply sat in his antique car with both arms stretched out as far as they could go, slapping every palm that reached out to greet him.


And there was George Brett, clopping down the streets of Kansas City all the way out to the beautiful Liberty Memorial south of downtown, where under a brilliant sun he dismounted and started to play the trombone.  Don’t ask why.  He just did, and they loved it.


“What do you mean we lost- we won,” said Joyce Hancock, 31.  “And we’re going to win again.  We’re a young team, and it just took us 12 years go get this far.  It didn’t take us 98 years.  Of course we’re proud.”


Indeed, no one felt cheated.  Simply beating the New York Yankees in the American League championship series was enough satisfaction for this year.  A World Series victory would come next year.  “We’ll Get It Done In ‘81,” said one sign.  “This Cowtown Has No Goats,” said another.


The Royals seemed genuinely moved at the outpouring of affection.


At one point, Willie Wilson, who had had a brilliant season but then went on to set a World Series record for strikeouts, started to apologize to the multitude at the Liberty Memorial for letting them down in the Series.


He never finished, his voice drowned out by a chorus of “no’s” from the adoring fans who did not want to hear apologies.  And John Wathan, the reserve catcher, looked at the sea of faces and said simply, “You’ve made this one of the best days of my life.”


And when it was over, when the last piece of confetti had drifted to the street and sanitation crews were beginning to clean up, a man in a three-piece suit turned to an out-of-town visitor and said, “Not bad, considering we lost.”


 Not bad at all.

Ben and Tug


Linked by a city  and a fetish for lightning


By Bill Lyon, Inquirer Staff Writer


“You know what Ben Franklin is doing today?  He’s lying there in his grave and he’s saying, ‘I told you so!’” - Tug McGraw


Frank Edwin McGraw probably is a reincarnation.  His first life was a couple of centuries ago, as Ben Franklin’s assistant.


That legendary night when Franklin went out in a storm and flew a kite just to discover electricity, who do you think was the guy who put the key on the string and got zapped by the first lightning bolt?


It had to have been McGraw, and he’s been crackling and vibrating and sending off sparks ever since.  Two centuries later, shortly before midnight on Oct. 21, 1980, under a full moon, McGraw threw the final strike of the World Series, and Philadelphia was lit up once more by lightning.


This theory was suggested to McGraw, the spiritual leader of the Phillies, The Team That Wouldn’t Die, and the mischievous Irish leprechaun in him pondered the possibilities.


He grinned impishly and then offered an account of Franklin and the storm that does not show up in any history books.


“You know how ol’ Ben discovered electricity, don’t you?”  McGraw asked.  “He’s out there and the rain is slashing down and the thunder is booming and the lightning is flashing, and ol’ Ben is trying to get that kite up, and his wife opens the bedroom window and she yells down at him, ‘Ben, what you need is a little more tail.’


“And ol’ Ben, he looks up at her through the rain, and he hollers back, ‘I said that an hour ago, and you told me to go fly a kite.’”



McGraw knew it would end like this, that Choke City would be transformed into Champagne City at last, knew that it was, somehow, meant to be, knew that this, finally, was the year of The Team That Wouldn’t Die.


He had been privileged to live through it twice before, with the Amazin’ Mets in ‘69 and again with the same team in ‘73, the year he gave birth to Ya Gotta Believe.  And now he sensed that it was Philadelphia’s turn to be touched by October magic.


For those of us who follow sports, who chronicle teams and individuals for a living, there is, occasionally, that same feeling.  You just know when it was meant to be.  This is not to imply there is anything mystical or supernatural; it is just the coming together of the right personalities, the right talents, the right circumstances… at the right time.  And the result is like, well, like flying a kite in a storm and discovering electricity.


And Tug McGraw sensed that this would be the year the long-suffering phans of the Phillies would, at last, be delivered.


Before the first game of this World Series, we had stood in the dugout and talked… stood because McGraw could not bring himself to sit; he was wound too tightly.


The conversation turned to fatigue.  Baseball, more than any other sport, is a game of attrition.  The Team That Wouldn’t Die was coming off a scorching September, a grueling, draining pennant drive, and that had been followed by the lunacy of the playoffs, and it was natural to assume that the Phillies were running on fumes now, that their emotional gas tank was dry, that they would have nothing left for the Series.


“Just the opposite,” McGraw said.  He relished this subject because he is as fascinated with the twists and turns and the unpredictability of the human mind and spirit as he is with what a man can do with a baseball by altering his grip, changing the rotation, experimenting with the stitching.


“What this team did was tap a whole new resource.  Instead of being emotionally drained, we are emotionally renewed.  We learned a lot about ourselves in September, in Montreal, in Houston.


“Listen,” he continued, leaning forward in a whisper, “those guys (the Royals) don’t stand a chance now.  This team just discovered it’s got something it never knew it had.  I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy, but we’ve got that feeling now, that certain feeling….”



In retrospect, of course, it all seems so clear now, so prophetic.  But at the time, 10 days back, before the very first game of the Series, it was difficult to accept McGraw’s absolute certainty with the same confidence he felt.


There were too many ghosts of the past still hovering over this town.


McGraw himself completed the exorcism on Tuesday night.  But it was a cleansing, a purging, that too many skeptics had doubted would ever come.


McGraw understood this, understood how this city felt, understood that it still remembered all the betrayals of the past.


“I know how this city feels,” he had said.  “It’s like a man shows up out of nowhere and he tells you, ‘Here, I’ve got this magic carpet and I’m gonna give you a ride on it.  Come on, get on, and we’ll soar up and away.’


“And the people get on and right away the man yanks the carpet right out from under them.  And this keeps happening, and pretty soon the people are afraid to believe, they’re afraid to get on that magic carpet.


“Well,” McGraw said, and his voice grew hard like a man who knows a promise is about to be fulfilled, “we got everyone on the carpet… and this time, this time we’re all headed for the Land of Oz.”


Ten days after his private vow, McGraw stood on a flatbed truck before 85,000 people in JFK Stadium, and he wasn’t on a truck but on a magic carpet.


Every once in a while he looked up to check the sky.  Probably, he was looking for kites and lightning bolts.



Mike Schmidt’s neighborhood doesn’t go batty over slugger


By Lucinda Fleeson, Inquirer Staff Writer


The dignified and substantial neighborhood in Media observed the crowning of its most celebrated baseball player without making any unseemly fuss.  After the Phillies won the series Tuesday night, one lone car drove past Mike Schmidt’s house on Lakewood Drive, heralding the victory with one solitary blare of the horn.


Yesterday morning, a small sign was tacked on Schmidt’s front gate, written in the scrawl of a small boy’s handwriting:  “Congratulations, Mike, You’re the Most Valuable Player”.


For a day anyway, Mike Schmidt could have been called Media’s Most Valuable Neighbor, if the neighborhood went in for that sort of thing, which it doesn’t.


Charles Hinkson, who lives across the street from Schmidt, answered his door yesterday dressed in brown suede slacks and matching brown shirt, and with an arched eyebrow, said, “Do I object to Mike Schmidt in our neighborhood?  No.  Am I flattered?  Not particularly.”


A neighboring woman, who declined to give her name, visibly sniffed, and said, “Well, after all, we have had celebrities before.”  The late race car driver Mark Donohue lived right around the corner from the Schmidt house.


Most of the neighbors along Lakewood Drive, a posh street of stone and brick houses where many of the residents don’t know each other, much less socialize together, would not discuss Schmidt.  The neighbors closest to the Schmidt house honored the local slugger in the best way they could think of- by protecting his privacy.  “What could I possibly say?” asked one woman.  “They’re good people and good neighbors and I want to keep it that way.  Goodbye.”


The mustachioed Phillies third baseman moved from a development of expensive homes in Voorhees Township, N.J., to this affluent neighborhood last November, a big jump in price and status.  Schmidt and his wife, Donna, and their two young daughters now live in the classiest and most expensive house in the neighborhood, overlooking Springton Lake.


Their three-level house has nine bathrooms, seven bedrooms, a pool-room and vault, as well as the usual assortment of library, living and dining rooms.  An elaborate brick fence and iron gates block the house’s horseshoe drive, and Schmidt has been occasionally spotted doing his own outdoor work.  Some of the special features of the home are its four thermostats in each room, which once safeguarded the temperature and humidity of the art and wine collections of the house’s former owner, J.H. Ward Hinkson, a prominent Chester County attorney, whose son now lives across the street.


One younger neighbor, however, was a little less reserved about having a certified hero in the area, even if he hadn’t yet returned home from the World Series.  Nicole Peapples, 10, said with shining eyes, “I don’t know all the Phillies, but I know Mike Schmdit.”  He had autographed her leg cast four months ago, “To my good friend, Nicole.”


And a few blocks away, at the St. Mary Magdalene School, school children said the day was spent talking about You Know Who.  In judicial terms, 11-year-old Steve Visek discussed why Mike was his favorite Phillie:  “He tries to me a member of the team.  I wrote him and told him that he had made a couple of mistakes in the playoffs, but I didn’t quite like how Howard Cosell interview him about them.  He’s a human being, after all, not a mechanical toy.”


And 9-year-old Patty Shay, who admitted to walking by Schmidt’s house once or twice, just to take a look, agreed.  “He doesn’t just talk about me, me, me.  He talks about the whole team,” she said.


Her mother, Elizabeth Shay, sighed, “Maybe now, they’ll go to bed on time.  For the last two weeks, it had to be television every night, running to brush their teeth during the intermission, getting into their pajamas during intermission.”


Maybe it wasn’t a hometown ticker tape parade, but it was a tribute.

City Salutes Champion Phillies


Route to stadium clogged with fans savoring victory


By Murray Dubin, Inquirer Staff Writer


Hundreds of thousands of Phillies fanatics lined Market and Broad Streets, and thousands more filled JFK Stadium yesterday in a pennant-waving, cheering victory parade and rally for the World Champion Philadelphia Phillies.


“I have never seen so many sincere faces in my life as I did today,” the Series’ Most Valuable Player, third baseman Mike Schmidt, told a wildly enthusiastic crowd at the stadium, estimated by police at 80,000.  “Take this world championship and savor it.”


“All through baseball history,” relief pitcher Tug McGraw told the crowd, “Philadelphia has had to take a back seat to New York City.  Well, New York can take this world championship and stick it ‘cause we’re number one.”


The crowd went crazy.


The parade went off without a hitch.  Police said there were no serious incidents and only a few minor arrests.  Police estimated that the crowd along the parade route from Center City at 500,000, but others thought it was closer to a million.


“It’s a sea of humanity; it’s unbelievable,” said police Inspector William Lindsay, who estimated the crowd at “well over a million.”


“I don’t think the city has ever had such an outpouring for one event,’ he said.  “It’s bigger than the Mummers.  It’s three or four times bigger than the crowd for the Flyers.”


At Broad Street and Snyder Avenue, Phil DiBattista of 11th and Mifflin Streets was wearing a rubber nose and miniature red and white umbrella that he had fashioned into a hat.


“It’s really bringing the people together, just like when the Pope came up Broad Street,” he said.  “The Pope came and gave us love.  And now the Phillies are giving it to us again.”


The staging area for the parade was 20th Street and JFK Boulevard.  At 9 a.m., 2½ hours before the parade began, people were lining Market Street to gain a vantage point to see their heroes.  Many had celebrated Tuesday night’s championship victory well into yesterday morning but were back again to drink in the splendor of a championship team, something Phillies fans have awaited for 97 years.


At 11:17 p.m., the Phillies arrived at the staging area on team buses.  Steve Carlton, winner of Tuesday’s game, was the first player to emerge from the bus and hop on the flatbed truck designated for the Phillies starting players, team officials and other VIPs.  He wore a three-piece suit and smiled and waved to the crowd massing in the area.


The rest of the starting team was on the flatbed truck in moments, and soon those in the crowd, including a number of police officers, were asking for autographs.  At 11:30 a.m., with the band from Overbrook High School playing aboard the first of 11 trucks, the parade began.


Phillies manager Dallas Green and general manager Paul Owens lifted their arms and pointed index fingers in the air and kept pumping their arms to the crowd for almost the entire parade.  Pete Rose, Larry Bowa and Tug McGraw shouted “We’re number one!” and exhorted the masses on Market Street to join them.


People on Market Street and throughout the parade route stood on light standards, rooftops, traffic signs and on each other as they threw confetti and rolls of paper, waved red and white pennants and pom-poms and screamed in a glorious din for the Phillies.


“Hard Hats Love the Phils” read one sign on Market Street, “McGraw for President” read another.  By the time the parade reached 18th and Market Streets, the crowd was 10 to 15 deep, and the confetti, streamers and computer cards dotted the sky, swirling in the wind.


Two blocks away, the crowds pushed through police barricades to get closer to the Phillies.  For a moment, they could touch the Comeback Kids, but police on horseback quickly moved them away.  The crowd was now 20 rows deep.


By the time the caravan reached South Broad Street, it was obvious that there would be empty desks in the public and parochial schools.  “A lot of classrooms were empty,” said a Philadelphia Board of Education spokesman.  “We don’t have figures… kids will be kids.”


At the Academy of Music, people leaned out of windows to cheer the Phillies.  McGraw, Bowa, Rose, Green, Owens, Manny Trillo, Carlton, Bob Boone, Mike Schmidt, Carlton, Greg Luzinski and Del Unser were all waving, all acknowledging the adulation.  Someone threw a rose to Schmidt, beer cans to rookie pitchers Bob Walk and Kevin Saucier who were in another truck, a Phillies banner to manager Green.  Mayor Green and Phillies owner Ruly Carpenter were among the few who seemed to react calmly to the enthusiasm of the crowd.


By now, beside those standing to see the Phillies, there were scores of youngsters running along with the parade on Broad Street and on 13th and 15th Streets.  Some had their faces painted red, others wore Phillies clothing and carried Phillies signs.


Bowa waved an oversized Phillies mitten to the crowd and Owens blew kisses.  Carlton waved and said softly, “We’re number one.”  Dallas Green kept pumping his clenched fist.


At Broad Street and Washington Avenue, the crowd had thinned to three or four deep.  People stood on their doorsteps with cameras.  Concession stands were selling helmets, pom-poms, T-shirts, buttons and pennants.  But as the Phillies bandwagon edged closer to the heart of South Philadelphia, the crowds grew again.


“Hey, look,” said Anna Ialongo, at Broad and Snyder, pointing to her obvious pregnancy, “I’m getting my first after three years, and the Phillies are getting their first after 97 years.”


At Methodist Hospital at Broad and Wolf Streets, doctors and nurses in operating room gowns leaned out the window to salute the triumphant Phils.  Soon the parade was pulling into JFK Stadium, normally used only for the Army-Navy football game.


When the Phillies truck arrived, the roar began.  As the truck circled the stadium the roar got louder and louder until it seemed if something had to burst, and then the thousands roared some more.


Finally the Phillies truck parked.  The team’s fight song, “Ain’t No Stopping Us Now” was barely heard in the cheers.  Trillo’s lips moved along with the song and he smiled.  Gov. Thornburgh, who had missed the parade because of a prior commitment, arrived and climbed on the Phillies bandwagon.


Schmidt hugged his daughter, Jessica Rae, 1, and told a reporter, “She doesn’t talk to the press.”  The reporter and Schmidt laughed.


Phillies announcer Harry Kalas finally spoke:  “Good afternoon, you beautiful fans.  Yes we did it.  How does this sound?  Philadelphia Phillies, champions of baseball!”


He introduced Thornburgh, who smiled good-naturedly through the boos.  “Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, today is the baseball capital of the world.  All Pennsylvania is proud of you.”


Mayor Green was just as brief, saying, “This is the greatest baseball team in the world, you are the greatest fans in the world and this is the greatest city in the world.  We’re number one!”


Carpenter, Owens and manager Green spoke, but the crowd wanted the players.


Kalas introduced the non-starters and coaches first and there was warm applause for everyone.  Then he introduced the starters, beginning with Carlton.  There were good-natured cries of “speech, speech” to Carlton who never speaks to the press, but the big left-hander smiled graciously and waved to the crowd.  The first Phillie to speak was Boone, who thanked the audience for “allowing me to earn a living playing a game I love.”


Bowa, who has criticized the fans in the past, took an opportunity yesterday to praise them.  “I tell ya, this is probably the greatest moment of my entire life and I’m glad I can share it with the greatest fans in baseball.”


Schmidt and Rose spoke and then Kalas said the man who had to close the festivities was McGraw, relief pitcher extraordinaire.  McGraw tossed out his “stick it” to New York City line, then Luzinski and Rose held aloft the championship trophy.


As the Phils left the stadium, the fans were chanting, “We’re number one,” and McGraw said to no one in particular:  “I’m so glad to be part of this.”


Also contributing to this article were Inquirer staff writers Fredric N. Tulsky, Jan Pogue, Robert R. Frump and Roger Cohn.

Don’t forget the A’s when talking of Philly champs


By Edgar Williams, Inquirer Staff Writer


It was a case of hailing the unconquering heroes.


On Monday, Oct. 16, 1905, Philadelphia turned out for a parade in honor of a baseball team that had just been booted in the backside in the World Series.


Forty-eight hours earlier, at the Polo Grounds in New York, the New York Giants had beaten the Philadelphia Athletics for the fourth time, winning the Series, four games to one. Understandably, the A's gave more than passing consideration to returning here under cover of darkness.


As it turned out, that wasn't necessary. The city's daily newspapers – eight in number at the time – banded together to show forgiveness of the A's sins by getting up a parade.


It was by no means as gargantuan and gaudy and ga-ga as the exercise in civic delirium held to venerate the Phillies yesterday. After all, Philadelphia's population then was less than 1.2 million. TV wasn't even a gleam in some inventor's eye, and the Phillie Phanatic still was wallowing around in the primeval ooze somewhere.


Still, as parades went in those days, this one went well. It started at noon at City Hall and moved down South Broad Street to Lombard Street. Then it counter-marched and headed northward, passing City Hall. It proceeded to Spring Garden Street, counter-marched again and came back down North Broad Street to City Hall.


There were two brass bands, and each of the A's players, as well as manager Connie Mack, rode in a horse-drawn carriage as onlookers applauded. At City Hall, mayor John Weaver made the usual banal remarks that politicians utter in the presence of athletes, then introduced such A's players as pitchers Charles Albert (Chief) Bender and Eddie Plank. A gathering reported as "several thousand" applauded decorously, after which everybody departed.


It wasn't until five years later that the A's again made it into the World Series, this time against the Chicago Cubs. National League adherents trumpeted that the Cubs would trample Mack's team, but the A's won the Series, four games to one.


If you figure that this doesn't jibe with the present paean for the Phillies being widely intoned ("They have brought Philadelphia its first baseball world championship in 97 years"), you are right.




•  Before the Phillies made it into a World Series for the first time in 1915, the A's had played in five Series (1905-10-11-13-14) and won three world championships (1910-11-13).


•  Before the Phillies got into their second Series in 1950, the A's had won three more American League pennants (1929-30-31) and two more world championships (1929-30).


•  In sum, from 1905 until the by-then-impoverished Athletics were moved to Kansas City after the 1954 season (subsequently the franchise was carpetbagged to Oakland), the club was in eight World Series and won five of them.


There are those among the bulging brains of baseball who will tell you that the best ball club that ever stirred up a rally was the Athletics of 1929. It was a team of such crisp, crunchy goodness that it clinched the American League pennant nearly a month before the end of the season, then blew away the Cubs in the Series, four games to one.


It was in the fourth game, played at old Shibe Park, 21st Street and Lehigh Avenue, Saturday, Oct. 12, that the A's erupted for what has to be one of the most spectacular rallies in baseball history. The Cubs led, 8-0, when the home club came to bat in the seventh and struck with what one sportswriter was inspired to call "Columbus Day Lightning."


Before the inning ended, Al Simmons, Jimmy Foxx, Bing Miller, Mickey Cochrane et al had thumped Chicago for 10 runs. The A's won, 10-8.


The 1905 Athletics hold a special place in history as having participated in a World Series that, in a manner of speaking, was "arranged" – or at least the division of rewards was.


It seems that the money in the players' pool was to be divided on the basis of 75 percent for the winning team, 25 percent for the losers. (Since 1907, the cut has been 6040). Financial geniuses on both clubs perceived the gap between the winning and losing shares as being too wide. The larger cut of the melon was just dandy – but each side had to consider the possibility of losing.


So most of the Giants made agreements with their opposite numbers on the A's to pool winning and losing shares and divide them equally. Only Connie Mack, Giants manager John McGraw, and Christy Mathewson, New York's great righthanded pitcher, refused to go along.


There was never the slightest suggestion that the arrangement affected the play of the participants. The late Bris Lord, centerfielder for the A's, used to put it this way:


"On the field, we hated the Giants and they hated us. The money deal was simply a case of ballplayers protecting themselves financially."


Ironically, although the A's lost the Series, they fared better than the Giants. The New York players received $1,142 apiece, while each member of the A's got $370. This meant that every Giant who was party to the agreement paid his "partner" on the A's $386 to arrive at an even split, which amounted to $756.


After the Series, however, Connie Mack talked Ben Shibe, owner of the A's, into turning over to the players the club's share of the gate receipts. Each A's player received $500 from this source, upping his total take to $1,256.


Bris Lord used to delight in showing a letter that Sammy Strang, a Giants outfielder who was his "partner," sent him with his check.


"It looks to me," Strang wrote, "like you make out better losing the World Series than winning it."

Financiers Keep to Their Desks on a 'Disruptive' Day


By Rick Edmonds, Inquirer Staff Writer


“Due to the victory of the Phillies,” said the hand-lettered sign posted at the close of business Tuesday on the door of Bell Savings & Loan Association, 2 Penn Center, “this office will be closed.”


The optimists at Bell were right.  And a good many banks, big and small, closed branches along the Phillies parade route yesterday, at least during the mid-day hours when crowds were at a peak.


“It’s a matter of security,” explained Raymond R. Strecker, president of East Girard Savings Association, which closed two Center City branches and one other during the parade.  “We figured the police would be committed pretty completely to crowd control at that time.”


But except for the occasional branch closings and some long lunch hours, Philadelphia’s financial community conducted business pretty much as usual.


“We’ve got a lot of people here who would like us to close down so they can go out and watch the parade,” said Henry P. Glendinning Jr., president of Butcher & Singer, one of the city’s largest brokerage houses.  “Unfortunately, we can’t (legally) while the markets are open.”


His clients were under no such constraints, though.  Glendinning said that trading in bonds was considerably slow than it usually is on a Wednesday morning.


Among the banks, First Pennsylvania temporarily closed five branches, Philadelphia Saving Fund Society, two, and Girard Bank, none.  None of the banks reported significant absenteeism or slowdowns in central operations, though retail business was way off.


“In the short range it’s a little disruptive,” said Norman D. Denny, chairman of Lincoln Bank, whose branch at 18th and Market (the start of the parade route) was closed for two hours.  “But in the long range it’s a magnificent thing for this city and business here.”


The city’s large insurance companies reported little disruption.  “Nothing was said,” noted Kathie Martin Beans, a spokeswoman for Fidelity Mutual Life Insurance Co.  “But people who wanted to go out during lunch and watch the parade could; you could tell by the length of the line in the cafeteria afterward that a lot did.”

How Others View This World Series


By Dick Young, New York Daily News


This city, which taught America much in its restless youth, held out an important lesson to us all on Tuesday night, in a ballpark not too many miles from Independence Hall.  Philadelphia show us that people will respect authority, even people bent on anarchy under the guise of good clean fun, if that authority makes itself known.


This is the most important story to come out of the World Series.  The stars of the World Series are William Green and Morton Solomon, more so than Dallas Green and Mike Schmidt.  William Green is the mayor of Philadelphia.  Morton Solomon is its police commissioner.  Together, they pulled off a play that was more exciting, more impressive, more memorable than the freaky tip-out that Bob Boone and Pete Rose collaborated on in front of the Phillies dugout.


The Green-Solomon DP began in the middle of the seventh inning.  As the K.C. players trotted out to their positions, mounted police, 10 of them, entered the outfield track in the right-field corner and paraded majestically along the fringe to the left field corner, single file, where they disappeared from view for the moment.  The handsomely groomed horses strutted as proudly as any show horse I have seen at Madison Square Garden in New York.  The uniformed police atop them, tall in the saddle and helmeted for stoic effect, held themselves rigidly proud.  A buzz swept the 65,000 citizens packed into the stands.  They were impressed.  I was impressed as hell.


This was a show of power.  There had been scare stories all across Philadelphia for the 24 previous hours.  Philadelphia was on the verge of being destroyed.  The Goths were at the gates.  As soon as the Phillies clinched the World Series, as though on signal, the city would become one big Liberty Bell- cracked.  Beautiful Veterans Stadium, The Vet, would be leveled.  The AstroTurf?  Forget it.  It would be torn up and used for wallpaper in apartments the length and breadth of the town.


I am pleased to report that on this, the day after, Philadelphia lives.  The Vet is still there, magnificently intact.  The AstroTurf field bears not a scar, except for a few road apples here and there.  The cavalry forgot its pooper-scoopers, but what the hell.  Nobody’s perfect.


The second part of the Green-Solomon DP came just as the game ended.  Tug McGraw was facing Willie Wilson with one out to go.  More than 20 police, equipped with riot helmets and German shepherds, fanned out along the fence in back on home plate, positioning themselves dugout to dugout, supplementing Commissioner Solomon’s cavalry.


Willie Wilson then struck out for the 12th time in the World Series, a record, the Phillies ran onto the field and hugged and kissed each other, a record, and nobody came out of the stands onto the field, a record.  They just stood there, at their seats, those 65,000 people, and yelled their heads off.  They chanted for their heroes.  Inside the Phillies clubhouse, somebody brought word to Dallas Green that his presence was requested outside.


“Hey, fellows,” the manager’s voice boomed across the din, “the fans are still out there.  They want to see some of you guys.  Let’s try to go out there.”  And with that, Dallas Green, Pete Rose, Tug McGraw and a few others ran down the ramp and emerged from the dugout to take their curtain calls- surrounded by mounted police with their gleaming helmets, and the furry police with their gleaming teeth- and it was wonderful what a good time everyone can have without wrecking the place.


The key word is deterrent.  Don’t let anybody tell you that fear of punishment is not a deterrent to lawlessness.  If a few dogs on leashes and a few policemen on horses can command respect, think of what an electric chair might do.  Just the sight of it, as there was just the sight of the Philadelphia police on that memorable night at the end of the 1980 World Series.


Earlier that evening, a TV type had interviewed a group of four or five teen-agers in the stands.


“Are you going to run onto the field after the game?” she asked, planting the seed if need be.  “Oh, sure,” they said.  “Yeah, we’re gonna be down there.”


“What about the cops?” she dared.


“We’ll run right past them,” said the kid, grinning.


Something must have changed his mind.


I salute you, Philadelphia, on behalf of My America.  Not for your pennant.  Not for your World Series.  But for what you may have done to awaken people with one simple object lesson.


Dick Young, sports editor of the New York Daily News and a former president of the Baseball Writers Association of America, has been covering baseball for more than 40 years.

It Was Pandemonium Under Control


The crowds and police spend a long night together 


By Dick Cooper, Inquirer Staff Writer


The all-night-and-into-the-next-day celebration of the Phillies’ victory was marred by a slaying, a shooting and several thefts throughout the city.  Still, police said yesterday, the crowds, though boisterous, generally were well behaved.


City police, who last saw crowds this size when the Flyers won the Stanley Cup hockey championship in 1975 and 1975 and when Pope John Paul II visited the city, managed to keep a lid on the city Tuesday and again yesterday.


The most serious incident occurred about 2:15 a.m. Wednesday when Christopher Colon, 21, of the 1700 block of Mount Vernon Street, was fatally shot at Broad and Wallace Streets.  Police said Colon and several other Hispanic men were gathered at the intersection near a group of blacks.  According to police detectives, Colon dropped his pants during the celebration, and a disparaging remark was made about him by one of the blacks.


Colon and the other man began to struggle, police said, and a man walked out of the crowd of blacks and shot Colon in the head at close range with a small-caliber pistol.  Police said the assailant ran away.


Colon was taken to Hahnemann Hospital, where he was pronounced dead at 2:35 a.m.  Police said they had made no arrests and were searching for witnesses.


Shortly before midnight Tuesday, Maureen Hayes, 20, of the 5100 block of Mebus Street in the Northeast, was shot in the right shoulder while she was standing on the steps of her home.


Police (said) she told them she was celebrating the victory when a car drove by and she heard a shot, and felt a pain in her shoulder.  She was reported in guarded condition yesterday in Parkview Hospital.  Police said no arrests had been made in the shooting.


Three police officers suffered minor injuries in separate incidents Tuesday and early yesterday.  They were all released after treatment.  One of those injured was officer James Reynolds, 35, a plainclothes officer.


Police said that in the press of the crowd celebrating south of City Hall early yesterday, Reynolds became separated from his partners.  He then saw two youths rip a cold chain from the neck of a woman sitting in a car.


Reynolds was able to grab the youths, but he was then jumped by about 10 other youths who wrestled him to the ground and punched and kicked him, police said. 


The youths stole Reynolds’ pistol from a shoulder holster, police said, and fled before other officers could come to his aid.


By the time other police arrived, the woman whose gold chain was stolen had left.  Reynolds was treated at Hahnemann Hospital for cuts and bruises of the head and chest.


There were relatively few confrontations between celebrants and police, who were deployed in force at the major intersections where crowds were expected, such as Broad Street and Snyder Avenue, Kensington and Allegheny Avenues, and Broad and Walnut Streets.


Officers moved into the major intersections about an hour before the game ended Tuesday, and blocked traffic.  Police with dogs and mounted police were stationed in business districts well before celebrants arrived.


Police officers were kept on overtime until early yesterday morning and then reported back hours later for parade duty.


The officers were shuttled by bus and van from one hot spot to the other Tuesday and yesterday.  Barricades set up along yesterday’s parade route were reinforced by officers stationed at short intervals to prevent the crowds from taking control of the streets, as they did during the Flyers’ parades.


Throughout most of the festivities, officers wearing riot helmets stood back as observers, allowing the crowds to enjoy themselves and keeping confrontations to a minimum.  When the need arose- fights, thefts, bottle-throwing incidents- the police tried to move in quickly to make arrests and then return to their observation posts.


Police said about 60 people were arrested between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. yesterday on charges of assault, robbery, theft or burglary.  About 120 persons were locked up for disorderly conduct, drunkenness and indecent exposure.


The parade yesterday was relatively orderly, with a few arrests for intoxication and disorderly conduct, police said.


Late yesterday afternoon, however, several incidents of chain snatches and other thefts were reported around 13th and Market Streets, and around City Hall.  At Broad Street and Snyder Avenue, police said there were a few bottles thrown by a crowd of youths who gathered about 4 p.m., but no major incidents or injuries were reported.

Milton, Chaucer Take Back Seat to Schmidt, McGraw


By Mary Bishop, Inquirer Staff Writer


Tens of thousands of Philadelphia schoolchildren played hooky yesterday to take part in the celebration of the Phillies’ World Series victory.


At many schools, fewer than half the students attended.


Many of those who did show up- including some teachers and principals- were disappointed that the schools were open at all on a day filled with all the distracting hoopla of a parade through Center City and a victory celebration at JFK Stadium in South Philadelphia.


Public school students who did skip school will get excused absences if they bring a note from their parents, giving permission for the absence, according to Benjamin J. Kaplan, executive assistant in the Philadelphia School District’s Office of Field Operations.


School officials said they could not close schools because last month’s teachers strike had left the district with little cushion in its attempts to schedule the 180 days required to qualify for state subsidies.


As it is, officials said, the district will have problems meeting this requirement if much snow falls this winter.


“Because of the strike, we are absolutely pressed for every instructional minute,” said Bernard Solomon, assistant to the superintendent of schools.


That reasoning failed to console students who went to school and- reluctantly- stayed for the whole day.


“How are they going to have a celebration without us going down there?” moaned Chris Short, 16, a junior at Benjamin Franklin High School.


His friend, Kevin Burris, 17, thinks school officials demonstrated a poor sense of history- or at least of sports history.  “It took them (the Phillies) 30 years to win this and they won’t even give us a day to see it.  If it takes them 30 years to win another one, we may not be alive that long.”


His friends, all at the ripe old ages of 16 and 17, groaned in agreement.


Franklin High Vice Principal Vernon V. Young was glad that the school was open.  “These kids should be in school, learning,” he said.  “There are more important things than the World Series.”


Parochial schools were also open yesterday, although some schools apparently closed early.  School officials decided that most parents, particularly those in suburban school districts in the five-county Catholic Archdiocese, would not consider the World Series victory important enough to lose a day of schooling, said Robert Palestini, director of secondary school personnel for the archdiocese.


One public school principal felt sorry for his students who came school but really wanted to be at the parade.


“A lot of kids came down (to school) thinking I had the authority to let them go,” said Louis D’Antonio of John Bartram High in Southwest Philadelphia.  “I got on the air and told them I wish I did have the authority.  All of them should be down there (at the celebration).  How often do you win the World Series?”


Six Chestnut Hill boys who cut class thought it was definitely worth it.  When asked what they thought about the celebration at the stadium, they roared, “Awesome.”  Then they began playfully punching and shoving each other while chanting, “We’re number one, we’re number one.”


Also taking part in yesterday’s festivities was Kenny Sperry, 15, a sophomore at Cardinal Dougherty High School.  Sperry said it was a day to remember.  “You can tell your kids about it and all.”

NBC’s Game:  OK, But Inconsistent


By Fred Rothenberg, Inquirer Staff Writer


There was much more good than bad, but NBC’s coverage of the final game of the World Series Tuesday night was somewhat inconsistent, particularly in the Phillies’ decisive third inning.


One of the game’s key plays came when Kansas City short U.L. Washington missed second base on Lonnie Smith’s fielder’s-choice ground ball.


After fishing for the right replay, the left-field camera captured Washington leaving the bag too soon.  Fine shot.  Error shortstop.


However, the official scorer then changed his decision, blaming Frank White for the throw that pulled Washington off the bag.  Error second baseman.  But we never saw the throw again on replay.  Error NBC.


Pete Rose, the next batter up, dropped a beautiful bunt from the left side that pitcher Rich Gale didn’t field.


Tony Kubek:  “Gale froze.”


Tom Seaver:  “That’s the pitcher’s responsibility.  He should be breaking toward third.


Joe Garagiola:  “Rose had only four sacrifice bunts all year.”


Triple play for NBC.


Mike Schmidt then singled in two runs that keyed the Phillies’ victory.


In the early innings, there were several discussions in the broadcast booth about a possible balk move by Steve Carlton.  Did his foot move toward first on the pickoff, as it’s supposed to, or did it start toward home?


Apparently the National League umpires are more lenient about this than the American Leaguers.  Garagiola said it was significant that the AL’s Nick Bremigan was working home plate.  Actually, it was the first base umpire, the NL’s Harry Wendelstedt who would have made the call on a balk.


Kubek called it a flat-out balk.  This is one case where director Harry Coyle’s picture didn’t keep pace with the commentary.  Here we should have seen isolated shots of Carlton’s feet.  Was it or was it not a balk?


Overall, like Phillies catcher Bob Boone, Coyle called another great game.  His baseball instincts are unmatched in the industry.


Examples:  In the fifth inning, the center-field camera focused on Carlton pitching to John Wathan, who lined a single up the middle.  Most directors would have punched up the home-plate camera, but Coyle stayed on the ball and rode it into center field.


As soon as Jose Cardenal singled in the eighth, Coyle zoomed in on Phillies manager Dallas Green.  As if on cue, Green moved from the top step.  We knew Carlton was gone because Coyle then zeroed in on Tug McGraw waiting and then moving in from the bullpen.


We still don’t think NBC’s announcers filled the significant human drama that well.  Without Howard Cosellian bombast, they still could have done more in the ninth with Willie Wilson, he of the then-11 strikeouts, batting with the bases loaded and two outs and facing McGraw, who had been lighting his own fires before putting them out.


And by drama, we don’t mean Garagiola saying, “Both teams are winners and losers.”


However, credit should go to Garagiola, who had the great sense to keep quiet for more than a minute as the cameras rolled over the Philadelphia players’ and fans’ victory celebration.


But NBC, did we really need your promo for the nightly news, David Brinkley and Roger Mudd at the top of the ninth?  Couldn’t you have squeezed it in earlier?


And was it necessary for our final remembrance from NBC’s World Series broadcast to be a plug for an upcoming segment of “Games People Play?”


Promos aside, we will remember NBC’s overall fine coverage for Coyle’s excellence in the truck, the meshing and baseball savvy of Garagiola-Seaver-Kubek and the brilliant work of Bryant Gumbel.  His between-innings recaps have been precise throughout the Series and his poise and pinpoint questioning under fire in Philadelphia’s exuberant locker room were works of art.


Especially with the work of Coyle and Gumbel, NBC has a right to brag that the World Series of 1980 was indeed “back where it belongs.”

Overall, Series Was Good News for Business


By Ewart Rouse and Harry Gould, Inquirer Business Writers


The Alpha Shirt Co. at 313 Market St. had practically run out of red-and-white T-shirts by yesterday.


“This is normally a busy period for warmer clothing and a slow period for T-shirts, but we sold tens of thousands of T-shirts in the past week,” said Ron Berg, part-owner of Alpha.


It was no coincidence that the World Series was on and the colors of the shirts sold were those of the Phillies.


But the story was different at the Gimbel Brother stores in the Philadelphia area.  A spokesman for the division reported that business declined between 20 percent and 35 percent during the series.


“We generally found our traffic was down when the games were on,” said Richard J. Giesbrandt, the spokesman.


That’s the way it has been for the last week.  In ways both positive and negative, the World Series has had a powerful impact on Philadelphia’s economy.


The Chamber of Commerce of Greater Philadelphia estimated that the Series had generated $1 million in sales and tax revenue for the city.  But there also were sales losses, and the difference between a plus and a minus depended on the nature of the business.


However, whether their profits were up or down as a result of the week of Series play, the city’s businessmen universally praised the games for their potential for producing long-term economic benefits for Philadelphia.


“The T-shirt vendors and the hot-dog-stand operations did very well, but it did not help much someone selling the high-quality sweater and the nice pair of shoes,” said Steven Poses, president of the Cooperative Association of Proprietors, which represents about 130 Center City retailers.


The Gimbels experience was typical among departmental stores, restaurants, theaters and movie houses.


“It definitely was not a retailer’s evening (whenever a game was played at night), unless you were selling pennants,” said Ted Erfer, spokesman for the Philadelphia-area division of Sears, Roebuck & Co.  “At one of our stores, business was normal at 7:15, but by 8:30 the employees were almost alone- in the TV department (watching the telecast).”


If the World Series was producing a heavy flow of adrenalin, it also was encouraging a heavy flow of booze.  For the most part, cash registers in many area taprooms, state stores and beer distributorships have been ringing merrily for the last two weeks.


For example, several beer distributors with home delivery service were doing the kind of business they expect to see only during summer heat waves.


“We had an increase from our regular level, maybe 35 to 50 percent,” said Vincent Cimarelli, owner of G & M Beer Distributors in Southwest Philadelphia.  “It was a big lift.  I wish it would be like this every year.”


Since the beginning of the National League playoffs, when the Phillies defeated Houston, Cimarelli’s employees found themselves responding to a wave of requests for extra cases from customers watching the games on television.


“I must have sold 3,500 cases in the two-week period,” he said.  “I usually average about 2,000 or so.  So it’s close to a 50 percent improvement.


“I had one customer who’s really a Phillie fanatic,” Cimarelli recalled.  During the week he goes through, maybe, three cases of beer.  Within the last week, he averaged about nine cases.  That gives you some idea.


Spokesman for Center City restaurants said they had benefited during the days from the estimated 10,000 visitors who came to Philadelphia for the three games that were played here.  Their dinner traffic, however, was off.


“Overall, our business was down during the week because we lost lots of business at nighttime,” said Neil Stein, owner of the Fish Market, a Center City restaurant.


“The people who’d normally come in between 8 and 11 were generally watching the games; their interests were there, rather than in dining out,” said Poses, the Cooperative Association president, who also is president of the Commissary restaurant.


Spokesmen for the Walnut Street Theater, for the Fox cinema at 16th and Market Streets and for the Academy of Music reported fewer patrons during the week, and they attributed the decline to the Series.


The exception, for the Academy, was Tuesday night- the night the Phillies won the Series.  The Philadelphia Orchestra held a special concert for children, and the Academy was sold out.


Who were the true beneficiaries of the Series?


Companies that conduct sight-seeing tours of the city reported an overall increase in business- until yesterday, during the parade, when it was virtually impossible to get from here to there.


“A lot of tourists came to town and called us for tours; the tour-guiding business really boomed,” said Nancy Gilbor, manager of Central City Ticket Office, an outlet for tickets for shows, sporting events and tours.


The major hotels in the Philadelphia area reported that they were booked solidly during the Series.  While they are normally busy around this time anyway, the Series did help, the hoteliers said.


“But the best thing it has done for the city itself is the public relations,” said Costa Androulakis, president of the Greater Philadelphia Hotel Inn Association.  “The fact that Philadelphia is now a winner is extremely important to the city.”


Dan Noonan, a spokesman for the Chamber of Commerce agreed, saying, “We couldn’t buy for literally a $100 million dollars the kind of positive attention we’ve gotten out of, first, winning the playoffs, and then, the Series.”


The companies whose sales were affected adversely were not really complaining.  In fact, most of them saw long-term benefits coming out of the Phillies’ win, in increased tourist traffic over the years and, ultimately, increased business for them.


And, as expected, the area’s taprooms did their part in lubricating the spirits of Phillies fans.  But not all of them were breaking attendance records.


“Honestly and truthfully, my bar business fell down, but my takeout business was up,” said Bill Lebow, 65, owner of the Tabor Inn, 5246 Rising Sun Ave.  “Obviously, people were taking the beer home and watching the game.


Lebow had other reasons to be less than happy.  The morning after the Phillies won the World Series, he arrived at his tavern to find a bottle tossed through his plastic window and his exterior sign wrecked by vandals.


On the night the Phillies won it all, however, Billy Woods, owner of 99 West, a neighborhood bar at Fairmount Avenue and 24th Street, witnessed a strange phenomenon.


“That last game, we had a big crowd at the bar,” he said.  “After the game was over, the vast majority went pouring out onto the streets.  It was like empty for 15 minutes, like the eye of a hurricane passing over.  Then 15 minutes later, they came pouring in again.”  

Petey Rose: 'Best Thing to Happen in My Life'


By the Associated Press


This Phillie with number 14 on his back had strawberry blond hair and a fair sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks.


Petey Rose, the 10-year-old son of Phillies first baseman Pete Rose, became a fixture in the Philadelphia dugout in the World Series.


Since Game 1 of the series against Kansas City, millions of television viewers watched the pint-sized Rose, who sported a uniform identical to his father’s, clapping and yelling for his pop and his teammates.


When the need arose, Petey was called on to work as a bat boy or ball boy, but he said his main job in the dugout was “cheerin’ them.”


What else did he do?


“I spit.  I chew sunflower seeds, and gum.  That’s about it,” the fifth grader said after an hour in center field shagging fly balls during batting practice before Tuesday’s Series-deciding Phillies win.


“During the game I clap, I go to the clubhouse to get candy and gum.  I go between innings to get Tootsie Rolls,” Petey said.


“This is the best thing to happen in my life,” he said.


“I never got to be a bat-boy in a World Series.  I never got to sit in a dugout,” he said.  His father was in four other World Series when he played for Cincinnati, but Petey was too young to tag along.


When his dad went up to bat, Petey says, he had three words for him:  “Get a hit.”


However, it took a court order to get Petey into the Phillies dugout.


Hamilton County (Ohio) Domestic Relations Court Judge Paul George issued the order permitting the youngster to join his father.


Karolyn Rose, whose 15-year-marriage to Rose ended in divorce in August, objected to the World Series trip because only Petey- and not the couple’s daughter Fawn- was to be included, according to her lawyer Dominic Mastruserio.


“We think a parent should visit with both of his children.  She wants to see the kids with their father,” Mastruserio said.


While Rose has visiting rights, Mastruserio said, “He hasn’t seen his children since last March.”


According to Rose’s attorney, Douglas Cole, the Phillies star doesn’t have facilities to take care of his daughter.


Cole said Petey is sharing his father’s hotel room and was welcome in the Phillies locker room.


Cole says it was unfortunate that it took a court order to resolve the matter.


“We didn’t have time to work it out privately,” Cole said.

Phils to refund Game 7 tickets


If you bought tickets for Game 7 of the World Series, the game that never was, you are out of luck – but not money.


The Phillies' ticket office was closed yesterday after the Phils put away the Royals the night before in Game 6. "They're all out partying," said the weary guy who answered the phone in the club's office.



But the office at the Vet will reopen at 9 a.m. today to handle refunds for seventh-game tickets. Refunds can, also be obtained at the various Girard Bank branches.



Royals leave, some silently


By Chuck Newman, Inquirer Staff Writer


George Brett, the matinee idol, was the last one down, his handsome countenance marred by lines of fatigue. He had slept very little.


By the time the third baseman of the Kansas City Royals appeared in the spacious lobby of the new Franklin Plaza Hotel, the pile of royal blue traveling bags had been scooped up and placed on the three waiting busses that would carry the retreating American League champions to Philadelphia International Airport and a TWA charter back to Missouri.


This was just after 9 a.m. yesterday, about 10 hours from the end of a dream, about two hours before a city was to salute a World Series champion for the first time in 50 years, a team that all season had seemed destined to self-destruct, but one that had survived what seemed like eternal tribulation.


It seemed paradoxical that here, in the city's newest luxury hotel, packing to leave in defeat was a team that had lived in harmony for six months, laughing to the American League title, and now departing amid discontent and controversy.


The emotion of the moment was hard to pinpoint. On the whole, it was resignation, but the bitterness was not hard to find if one looked hard enough.


Pitcher Rich Gale, who battled shoulder problems all year and was the loser in Tuesday night's finale, waved a reporter away. "I'd rather not talk about it this morning, " he said on the way to the bus.


He was not alone. Shortstop U. L. Washington, an integral part of the Royals' running game who never got it going in the Series, brushed past. So did Willie Wilson, a.326 hitter who had set a new World Series record for strikeouts. So did pitcher Paul Splittorff, a regular member of the rotation during the season who saw only mop-up duty in the final game. He was already on record as not wanting to return to the Royals next season.


A Royals scout waiting for the departure, dodged, too. "I've been through this too many times already," he said, asking that his name not be used. "It's better for me to keep my mouth shut."


Pitcher Dennis Leonard was more cordial. "I really didn't get enough sleep to think about it (losing the Series)," he said before escorting his wife to the bus. "But I guess somebody's got to win... "


Catcher Darrell Porter, who had managed only two hits in the Series, hurried across the lobby with his wife. Infielder Pete LaCock did, too, but he was smiling. He had played in only one game, and, in a much-discussed decision, had not been sent in as a defensive replacement for Willie Aikens in the ninth inning of the Phillies' 4-3 comeback win in Game 5. "I'm just anxious to get home and see my daughter," he smiled. "I'm a free agent you know, freeeeee."


Second baseman Frank White, the AL playoff MVP who had two hits in the Series, seemed resigned. "Hey, just being in the World Series was a luxury to me," he said. "We accomplished a lot this season, and we don't have anything to be embarrassed about.


"The thing that disappoints me the most when I think about it is that we had a 4-0 lead in the first game and a 4-2 lead late in the second game. Those are games you have to win. But I still think we have a better hitting team than the Phillies."


Aikens had the same sentiments. "I think the fans in Kansas City will be satisfied because we did what they really wanted us to do, beat the Yankees," he said. "I will look back on some of the mental mistakes I made, but I don't feel like I have peaked yet as a player, and I think we have a lot of guys on this team like that. I'm capable of doing more."


He had hit four home runs in the Series – two in each of two games – but his fielding had hurt the team in critical spots. After a stop in Kansas City, he said he would head to his home in Seneca, S.C., for a few days, then try to polish his fielding playing winter ball in Puerto Rico.


Resident flake Dan Quisenberry, the ace reliever whom the Phillies had found no puzzle, hit the lobby with two boxes under his arm.


"Cheesecake," he said. "That's what I like most about Philadelphia."


He said he would buy his wife a house in Kansas City, then would spend some time in California.


"I'm going to work with Kent Tekulve (the Pirates' underarm reliever) before next season," he said. "I want him to teach me how to throw slower ground balls."


Pinch-hitter Del Unser hit a hard ground ball off a Quisenberry pitch in Game 5 that produced the winning run, and caused some of the Royals to second-guess rookie manager Jim Frey's decision to stay with Quisenberry.


Frey was sitting alone on a chair adjacent to the lobby, thumbing through a newspaper. He had read what some of his players had said, but if he was angry he didn't let it show.


"I don't dwell too long on this kind of stuff (criticism)," he said. "If you do in my position, you'll end up in a padded cell. It seems like we went six months without any problems, but because of the World Series, the media exposure, the pressure...


"I understand the pressure of young athletes. They say some things out of frustration. It seems like the same things we did all season became a problem during the World Series.


"I know that what I did, the decisions I made, were the right ones in my heart. I'm not going to take a poll of writers or fans to find out if the decisions I made were right."


He paused for a moment, and looked around the lobby. Then, without urging, he began again.


"Some of the players who said certain things will sit down in two or three months and reconsider. They can say things, and the manager has to bite his tongue. But, and I want you to write this, I forgive them."


Then Frey picked up his suitcase and went through the front door and onto the bus for the trip down the expressway to the airport, within viewing distance of the Phillies' parade route.


He was followed by Brett, who, amiable as ever, paused to sign several autographs. "Don't worry," Brett told a giggling young girl, "I'll be back."

Scalped Phillies Fans Happy With Souvenirs


By Tom Belden, Inquirer Staff Writer


There were thousands of happy people on the streets of Philadelphia yesterday, but few were happier than the dozens of street vendors selling memorabilia of the Phillies’ World Series victory.


Paper pennants purchased by the vendors in large lots for 60 cents each were being shamelessly marketed  to the fans yesterday for $3 or $4 each.  Similar profits were being made on lapel buttons, batting caps, plastic horns, cheerleaders’ pom-poms, T-shirts, bumper stickers, plastic “Number One” mitts and assorted other items.


It was vendors’ heaven.  Sales crews from as far away as Connecticut were working the Center City crowd.


“Business is excellent,” said a visiting vendor, who was hawking pennants for $4 and Phillies T-shirts for $10 at 17th and Market Streets.  “It’s the best day in my history of doing this, for 11 years.”


With so much money to be made from selling Phillies novelty items, bedlam has reigned at times in the past week at Harris Novelty Co. on Arch Street, one of three local distributors of most Phillies souvenirs.


Demand has been so intense for the pennants- flimsy pieces of stiff paper with a thin wooden stick attached- that fistfights have broken out between vendors trying to buy up some of the 5,000 to 10,000 pennants Harris is receiving daily from a New York manufacturer.


“I’m flying them in, busing them in, any way I can get them here,” said Charles Harris, one of the owners of the company, at 1004 Arch St.  “Last Friday, it was such bedlam here.  It was like the stock market, with people shouting, bidding on them.  We’ve had several fistfights between vendors, guys saying, ‘I was here first,’ ‘No, I was first.’”


Harris estimated that before enthusiasm for Phillies memorabilia wanes, perhaps sometime near Christmas, his company will sell 800,000 of the pennants.  Hot dog and pretzel vendors also were sharing the results of the spending spree occurring along the route of the Phillies victory parade along Market and Broad Streets.  Although several vendors said business was a bit sluggish just before the parade started, as people hurried past them to find a good vantage point, likes of 10 or 15 hungry customers were common just after the heroes had passed.


Novelty distributors said that, before the Phillies’ victory in the World Series Tuesday night, their two most successful recent sales opportunities were the Bicentennial celebration and the visit last year of Pope John Paul II.  But there was much more advance warning for those events, enabling the distributors to build up their stocks of souvenirs.


“There are very few that handle this (Phillies memorabilia),” said Sam Dubin, who has operated General Novelty Co. at 15 S. Third St. for 48 years.  “I’ve seen demand before, like for the bicentennial.  But this is different.  We were unprepared, and that’s very important.”


Had the Phillies’ success been anticipated longer, “we could have sold a whole lot more,” said Dubin.  The distributor said he had not yet tallied the total number of novelty items he expects to sell before the demand falls off.


“When the Pope was here, I was saying it (sales) was bigger than… (a World Series here would be),” said Joe Weiser, co-owner of Kim & Cioffi Co., the third major supplier of Phillies novelties here, at 1524 N. Hancock St.  “Now I’m saying this is bigger than the pope.”


The fact that the Phillies’ series win was the first ever was noted by several distributors and sellers as a reason for the demand.


Many of the street peddlers are independent operators, like Jerry Bell, a Philadelphia native who recently moved to Columbia, Md.  He saved enough cash to invest in 500 pennants, which were selling briskly at $3 each at 16th and Market Streets just as the parade started.


“I watched the game last night and left at 12 o’clock, right after it was over,” Bell said.  “I haven’t had any sleep, but I’ll make a buck.”


The only street vendors whose business seemed to be suffering yesterday were those who work Center City corners regularly, selling clothing or jewelry.


“The last two days have been very bad for me,” said Bruce Beegal, who sells shirts and blouses from racks at five locations along Market Street.  “This week, it’s mostly been the Phillies paraphernalia that’s been selling.”


The competitive spirit that led most of the vendors onto the streets in the first place was flourishing as they did their work.  Two young women selling white plastic, 18-inch long “We’re Number One” mitts hesitated only a few seconds when a potential customer told them their $4 product was selling for $3 a block away.


“OK, $3,” one said.  “This is free enterprise.”  

State Stores Closed To Help Maintain Order


By Russell Cooke, Inquirer Staff Writer


You may have noticed that the neighborhood state store was closed yesterday, just when your liquor supply, depleted in the wake of the World Series celebration, was approaching “E.”  And you may have wondered why this was so and why you didn’t know about it in advance.


In fact, all 87 state stores in Philadelphia were shut between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. to help maintain sobriety and peace among the tens of thousands of Phillies fans converging on Center City for the World Series victory parade.


And few people knew beforehand that the state stores would be closed, because the decision to do so was made while most Phillies fans were in the first ecstatic stages of World Series celebration Tuesday night, according to a spokeswoman for the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board (LCB).


Around midnight- about a half-hour after the game ended- city managing director W. Wilson Goode’s office, at the request of Mayor Green, contacted state Attorney General Harvey Bartle 3d about closing the stores.


Bartle then called Gov. Thornburgh’s office, because the governor must authorize any temporary closing of state stores.  Thornburgh agreed, the LCB spokeswoman said, and Bartle then informed LCB Chairman Daniel Pennick, who issued the order.  By then, it was around 6 a.m.


“This has been done many times before,” explained the spokeswoman.  “For example, when the Steelers won the Super Bowl, the downtown Pittsburgh stores were closed.  And we constantly have requests from small towns that stores be closed during parades.  The reason for this is to maintain order.”

The boys of summer to the boys of autumn


By Acel Moore, Of the Editorial Board


The crisp, cool days of early October, with a bright sun reflecting off the brilliant colors of the fall foliage, always remind me of the World Series. The game of baseball has been for me immortalized in the title if not the contents of Roger Kahn's book The Boys of Summer. For the past 10 years I have been so busy with other priorities that I haven't been able to keep up with the game during its sweltering long and hot season of the summer.


But come World Series time I, like hundreds of thousands of other fans, some who never see a game during the regular season or don't even fully understand the game, get caught up in the fever and the excitement of the Series.


And if some of you were like me when I was a kid and loved the game and harbored thoughts of playing big-league ball, then watching the World Series provides pleasant memories of our youth.


This World Series was different. The Phillies won their first. They proved that they are a team of character and I, like baseball fans all over the metropolitan area and the nation, congratulate them for their great victory.


Though it was the second Series that I have been around to see the Phillies play in, the last one was in 1950, 30 years ago, it is the first in which I have rooted for the home team.


In 1950 the Brooklyn Dodgers were my team, and when they didn't win the National League pennant I didn't root for either the Phillies or the New York Yankees, who beat the "Whiz Kids" in four straight games.


To those who didn't grow up in the '40s and '50s it may seem strange that a native of the city in 1950, a youngster of 10, did not root for his hometown team.


But you must know the history of baseball and the exclusion of blacks until 1947 when Jackie Robinson became the first black to play major league baseball. Robinson was a man I consider the most competitive athlete ever to have played any sport.


From 1947 when he was named Rookie of the Year to the late 50s Jackie Robinson was the idol of every black youngster who loved baseball.


I have vivid memories of my father taking my brother and me down to old Shibe Park on the trolley car from South Philadelphia to see the Dodgers play the Phillies.


The Phillies were all white. I remember Richie Ashburn, a man whose talents I have always respected and who as a sportswriter and announcer I have come to respect for his honesty in commenting about racism in major league baseball.


I remember the pride in the faces of the thousands of blacks who would flock to the stadium to see Robinson and the Dodgers, The Boys of Summer Kahn so poignantly wrote about.


As the years passed the Phillies would be among the last teams in major league baseball to sign black and Hispanic athletes. They didn't sign their first black superstar until the 1960s when Dick Allen played. Allen was a great talent who was developed through the Phillies farm system, but who was mistreated by the Phillies management and the sportswriters.


Mainly because of the Phillies' past racist and unenlightened management policy, black fans in the city have not supported the Phillies with the same fervor that black fans have supported their teams in other cities.


I shall never forget how badly the Phillies treated Robinson when he first came up, nor shall I forget how long it took them to recognize the talents of black athletes. But I disagree with those who still come down on the team because of past transgressions.


This is 1980 and the Phillies played their best nine men in the Series and they included Bake McBride, Gary Maddox, Lonnie Smith and Manny Trillo. They all contributed greatly to the victory and without them the Phillies certainly would not have been in the Series.


Unlike me when my father took me to see the Phillies in the 50s, my son Acel, 13, is a Phillies fan. He roots for them enthusiastically when I take him to the Vet. He loves baseball and he idolizes Bake McBride and Garry Maddox as well as Mike Schmidt and Larry Bowa.


The Phillies provided all of us this fall with a great amount of thrills and joy. They played like a team that respected each others' abilities on the field. It is an example that people should follow off the field, respecting fellow human's talent and potential.


The winning of the World Series by the Phillies is an event that all Philadelphians should be proud of and should join in celebrating.


If the Brooklyn Dodgers are the Boys of Summer, the Phillies have proven themselves to be the Boys of Autumn. And I extend my congratulations to them all for being the 1980 World Champions of baseball.

The Fans' Turn


Their salutes to the baseball heroes are delivered – each in its own way


By Thomas Ferrick Jr., Inquirer Staff Writer


We can now report that there are two ways to celebrate a World Series victory in Philadelphia.


The most popular, at least among the younger set, is the basic mass outpouring of emotion.  That was typified by the crowd that jammed Broad Street yesterday.  The celebrants screamed, consumed great quantities of beer and waved costly new pennants as the Phillies passed by on flatbed trucks.


This is all very well and good, but after awhile, after the parade has passed by and the “we’re number one” chant is heard for the 3,333d time, it wears a bit thin.


To offset that, though, there were the great individual efforts by Phillies fans, the ones with the flair and panache, or those with a sense of dignity and proportion.  What the Phillies did, they reasoned, was unusual, so they decided to celebrate in an unusual way themselves.


On the inside, they were just like the rest of the crowd.  But, they took the time to measure their joy and then express it in a way that made them stand out.


Those are the people who will be remembered long after the euphoria turns into a sour, day-after hangover.


One of them was Catherine Towner, who is 58, and, as she put it, “just loves the Phillies.”


Catherine joined the throng that formed behind the Phillies’ caravan at City Hall and trotted behind it all the way to JFK Stadium.


She was easy to spot, however, because she was dressed in a majorette’s uniform, complete with high white boots.  She carried a baton in one hand, a pennant in the other, and never faltered or fell behind during the long trek to South Philadelphia.


At the other end of the scale was the anonymous gentleman spotted in the City Hall courtyard at noon.  While other fans sprinted by, he walked serenely and calmly through the crowd, dressed in a dark gray three-piece suit, briefcase tucked under his arm and a Phillies cap, perched at just the right angle, on his head.  He was sporting a sly, self-satisfied smile.


All along the parade route, there were a lot of homemade signs, hastily scrawled, some of them barely legible, all of them praising the champions.


At the Union League, however, this simply would not do.  The thinking there seemed to be that if one must celebrate, one should do so properly and in style.


So, draped over the second floor balcony of the club yesterday was a tastefully done banner, with gold trim, a burgundy background and, in fancy script, the message “Go Phillies.”


Beneath it, during the parade yesterday, stood two nuns, surveying the tumult beneath them, waiting patiently for their heroes to pass by.  When the trucks finally turned the corner, and while the rest of the crowd went wild, the good sisters just smiled and waved shyly at the players.


Then, there was the woman, in her 40s and dressed in a fall suit, who sat on the steps on the church at Broad and Arch Streets yesterday afternoon waiting, along with other weary shoppers, workers and fans, for a bus.


In the streets and on the sidewalks around her, boisterous young fans were trying hard to make an impression, by screaming, by honking car horns, by running pell-mell in the middle of the street.


She appeared unmoved by all of this.  Then suddenly, but with some dignity, she stood up, let loose with a loud and long, “Yeaaaaa,” and calmly sat down again to resume her wait for the bus.


She had just done her part.

The Fears of Spring Seem Less Foreboding


By Jayson Stark, Inquirer Staff Writer


The parade was all but over.  The Phillies’ trucks were disappearing through the exit of JFK Stadium as 100,000 people showered them with one last, loving roar.


If you were a Phillie, you had to want to freeze this moment.  When you win, you wish it could be the day after the World Series forever.


Those trucks rolled away yesterday, taking the Phillies to their happiest off-season ever.  Every other October, they have thought only of next year.  Now, if next year takes about a decade to come, it might be too soon.


Ironically, this was the off-season a lot of them feared most.  This was the off-season a lot of them feared they might become ex-Phillies.


“All we’ve read in the paper was that if we didn’t do it this time, we wouldn’t get another opportunity,” Larry Bowa said.


“We heard that this was the last opportunity for the Schmidts and the Luzinskis and the Maddoxes.  And it’s not like we’ve just been hearing that from August on.  We’ve heard that since spring training.


A few breaks here, a couple of inches there, and maybe they would still be fearing that fate.  If Bob Boone doesn’t get a hit with two outs in the ninth in Montreal, if Nolan Ryan can six more outs, if the Astros’ Gary Woods tags up, if Hal McRae or Willie Wilson plunks one through the middle off Tug McGraw with the bases loaded… change any of those things and Kennedy Stadium might have been empty yesterday.


Had Kennedy Stadium been empty, had this been another glum Phillies winter, they might be preparing the guillotine for this team.


But winning washes away a mess of dirt.  The flaws that looked so fatal on this club in August took trivial now.


Less than four weeks ago, Dallas Green was threatening to break this juggernaut up, win or lose.  But, as Bowa says, sometimes Green “just says stuff.”


It is hard to imagine Green and Paul Owens scattering their World Champions around the continent.  The same 25 Phillies might not be parading into Kennedy Stadium next October.  But a lot of them will be parading into the Vet next Opening Day to give it a try.


This is not the easiest team to break up.  The entire nucleus will be 30 or over by next April, and there are enough no-trade clauses and 10-and-five trade-approval provisions to tie Owens’ hands, even if he wanted to make a mad rush of deals.


Take a run through the Phillies’ cast of characters, and you see the problems:


MIKE SCHMIDT- Schmidt was MVP of the Series, MVP in the clubhouse, and likely, MVP of the regular season.  Owens wouldn’t trade him even-up for the entire roster of the Texas Rangers.


PETE ROSE- The only place Rose is going is to the studio to cut a few more after-shave commercials.  He had a much better year than his numbers would indicate.  He gave up a lot of points on his average to help Lonnie Smith run.  He became a superb defensive first baseman.  He hit nearly .500 from Montreal weekend through the playoffs.  When they needed him, he was there.


MANNY TRILLO- Rose and Trillo were the two guys Owens thought he needed to complete the picture in 1979.  It just took two years to prove he was right.  This team could not have won without Trillo’s glove, arm or bat.  He’ll be back.


BAKE McBRIDE- McBride was all but out of here a year ago.  But trading him seems preposterous now.  They need his steady, lefthanded bat.  They need his legs, when he can provide them.  This is one winter McBride can spend with peace of mind.


LARRY BOWA- The postseason was Bowa’s moment of triumph and vindication.  Had the season ended unhappily, with fans booing his every breath, with Green ripping him, he might well be gone.  But he showed in October that when his mind is on the game, he still is a great asset.  Bowa also is a 10-and-five guy (10-year veteran, five with the same club).  So he must approve any trade.  He has indicated that me might allow himself to be sent to a contender.  But he would rather stay with this one.  Julio Franco, his successor in the farm system, is still two years away.  Don’t bet on Bowa not being around in the interim.


BOB BOONE- Boone also had a fine October, and his knee surgery had a lot to do with his substandard season before that.  But the dilemma with him is that Keith Moreland obviously is ready to play, and the farm system is bursting with catching prospects.  Boone has a no-trade clause that is one hindrance to dealing him.  Another is that he handled the pitching staff so well and Steve Carlton just had a phenomenal year working with him.  It’s 2-to-5 he stays.


GARRY MADDOX- He and Green had their differences.  But the manager also recognized Maddox’ talents.  Maddox is another guy who might have waived his no-trade provision if the season had ended in defeat.  But winning is all the difference here.  Maddox is nearly certain to be back.


GREG LUZINSKI- Winning was bittersweet for Luzinski.  He went 0-for-the-Series, was benched, Green ripped him in the papers, and he saw that he was certainly the most likely guy on the club to be traded.  The Bull definitely will be shopped around, especially with Lonnie Smith ready to play and Loins a prospective 1981 free agent.  But owner Ruly Carpenter will lobby hard against nearly any deal, and Green and Owens aren’t totally convinced Luzinski can’t bounce back.  He is far from definitely gone.


STARTING PITCHING- Carlton, Dick Ruthven, Marty Bystrom and Bob Walk have no worries.  Larry Christenson can be a free agent, and Owens says he will let Christenson try the re-entry draft.  Randy Lerch essentially resigned from the team when he was left off the playoff roster.  He is gone.  Nino Espinosa doesn’t have a contract for next year.  His future will have to be evaluated, but he and Green aren’t exactly hunting buddies.  Also, Jim Wright might finally be ready next year.  And left-hander Mark Davis, who made the impressive cameo appearance in September, isn’t very far away.


RELIEF PITCHING- Tug McGraw can be a free agent.  But it is hard to imagine the Phillies letting their most charismatic hero get away.  Sparky Lyle should be a big help to him next year.  Still, it is hard to count on McGraw being able to duplicate his amazing second half, so another dependable arm, preferably righthanded, would help.  Maybe that will be Warren Brusstar.  Maybe it will be Dickie Noles, but his lack of control still scares people.  Ron Reed is on shaky ground.  Kevin Saucier might be, too, since Lyle reduces his role.  Look for Owens to resume the Bruce Sutter hunt.


BENCH- Expect a lot of the same cast to be back.  George Vukovich might get the season in the minors he should have gotten this year.  John Vukovich might become a coach.  Catcher Don McCormack and infieldes Jay Loviglio and Luis Aguayo are the most likely graduates of the farm system.  But Aguayo might be heading for Texas as the player to be named later for Lyle.


MANAGER- Green almost certainly will be back, yelling and screaming and making headlines.  Remember, it was only his “preference” to give up the manager’s job.  It is Owens’ preference to remain as director of player personnel for one more year.

The Phillies and the singer


By Tom Fox


The wirephoto told a sad story. It showed Kate Smith, the old radio soprano who stirred a nation at war with her glorious rendition of "God Bless America", being helped out onto a porch down in Raleigh, N.C., to accept the love and affection of thousands of Philadelphians who remember the singer when she was still a national force.


She is older now. The picture showed that. The blush was gone from her cheeks. There were wrin kles at the mouth. She looked drawn and tired.


Of course, the hair – that fresh out-of-the-beauty-parlor curl that always was a Kate Smith trademark – was still the same, but she seemed so frail and fragile, ravaged by a diabetes that, coupled with the advancing years, had taken a terrible physical toll.


At 73, Kate Smith isn't the robust physical presence she once was.


The picture stirred warm memories of Kate Smith, memories from a time when she was younger and life for her was still a rich, sweet song.


There was a sunlit spring day on Independence Mall six years ago when Philadelphians gathered by the millions to honor the Stanley Cup champion Flyers of 1974 with a parade and speeches and song.


From the past


Kate Smith, brought back from obscurity by the adoption of "God Bless America" as the Flyers' song, was there. She was there to sing her song, but, incredibly, I didn't recognize her.


"Who's the old woman with Bernie Parent?" I asked, out loud.


And Charlie Swift, the Eagle broadcaster, howled.


"My God, Fox," Charlie Swift said, "that's Kate Smith."


Of course, I knew Kate Smith the next time I saw her. It was in Frank Rizzo's office when he was mayor and Kate Smith was being honored for her contributions to the Flyers and to the American Culture.


"Miss Smith," Frank Rizzo said, launching the presentation of traditional Philadelphia Bowl and Liberty Bell, "I remember – "


And Kate Smith, a joyous woman, cut in on the mayor.


"Aw, Mr. Mayor," she said, smiling, "you can call me Kate."


And the Big Bambino dropped one of his all-time best one-liners.


"Miss Smith," he said, with a wink, "once I called a girl Blaze, and she wrote a book."


One of a kind


That was all so long ago, and so much has changed. Charlie Swift is dead, dead at his own hand. Frank Rizzo is in exile. And Kate Smith, one of the First Editions, is living a day at a time.


But despite her illness, Kate Smith is an American Legend, a bigger-than-life force who still has a mind-boggling impact on the American conscience.


Last month WIP Radio launched a "Get Well Card for Kate Smith" campaign on the air waves, and the results were unprecedented. More than 10,000 cards poured in, coupled with several thousands of signatures more on a mobile billboard, wishing Kate Smith God Speed.


"I've never seen such response," says Al Herskovitz, the WIP program manager.


"And I've never felt such emotion," said Bill Neil, the WIP disc jockey who drove to Raleigh to personally deliver the 10,000 get-well cards and the mobile billboard to Kate Smith.


Bill Neil, 31, a Cornell engineering dropout, is, among other things, a baseball fan – an incurable, dyed-in-the-wool Phillies baseball fan. And the delivery of the get-well cards to Kate Smith actually threw Bill Neil into a quandary.


Bad timing


"When I agreed to deliver the cards to Kate," Bill Neil said the other day, "I never dreamed the delivery would fall on the same day the Phil lies were opening the World Series here in Philadelphia.


"So I was upset, upset at the prospect of missing the Series opener. In fact, I was beginning to regret accepting the assignment."


"So you missed the opening game," I said.


"Oh, no," Bill Neil said. "I had the best of both worlds that day. I delivered the cards to Kate – and had one of the most rewarding experiences in my life – and was back in Philadelphia that might to see the Phillies beat the Royals in the first game.


"But you know something? If I had a choice between delivering the cards to Kate and missing the Series opener, I'd have to take the visit to Kate Smith. I really would.


"When I saw Kate, she was very moved. Really. Her eyes glazed over, and she said, 'Oh, my, what did I ever do to deserve all this?'


"I'll tell you," Bill Neil, the Phillies fan, said, "that afternoon down in Raleigh is a day I'll never forget." 

The Scene


In Philadelphia and its suburbs


By Clark DeLeon


Victory: The hand is quicker than the fan


So how are your fingernails today? What's left of them, that is. Mine are gnawed beyond recognition. If the Series had gone seven games, I wouldn't be able to type. Can you believe it? Did it actually happen? Sure it did, and that means decades of attitudes are going to have to change. Sportswriters are going to have to search for new symbols of futility. Fans are going to have to get used to that rising feeling in their stomach. Philadelphia has purged itself, finally, now that its last major-league team has won a championship.


And what a celebration it was. I think the thing that I'll remember most about the night the Phillies won the World Series was driving up Spruce Street honking the car horn along with 10,000 other people. I'll remember the beatific look on the faces of the people on the sidewalk. I'll remember traffic backed up at the intersection with Broad Street and the hundreds of people offering hands to "slap five" as I drove through the crowd. And I'll remember, amid the slapping, the hand that reached out among the crowd and deftly yanked my watch off my wrist. Then, the instant I realized what happened, a full glass of beer was thrown in my face.


Then I'll remember laughing, and thinking that if that's all it cost me for the Phillies to win a World Series, it was worth it.


Insidei The sins of the father...


Inquirer reporter Tom Ferrick Jr. has been carrying a terrible secret with him these last few weeks. It's the kind if thing that is bound to come out sooner or later, but Ferrick didn't want it to emerge during the Wprld Series, especially since he had been assigned to write sensitive, insightful stories about the psyche of Phillies fans and what the World Series means to Philadelphia. But we promised to keep an embargo on his secret only until final victory, and so now the truth can be told:


Tom Ferrick's father was a New York Yankee.


Worse, he was the pitcher who won the third game of the 1950 World Series against the Phillies.


Tom Ferrick is now a "superscout" for the Kansas City Royals, but during his son's growing-up years in Havertown, it was his Yankee past that plagued him. Ferrick entered the third game in Yankee stadium in relief of Eddie Lopat and earned the win in the Yankee's 3-2 victory. It is something that Tom has had to live with ever since.


Rivalries! Tug to Apple: Drop Dead


It was the Kansas City Royals the Phillies played in the World Series, but it was the New York Yankees who bore the brunt of the vengeance of Philadelphia fans. Tug McGraw underlined that yesterday in front of a sea of adoring and vindicated Phillies fans in JFK Stadium when he said that New York not Kansas City could take the major-league championship and "stick it." Why New York? If you have to ask that question, you didn't grow up in Philadelphia. It's not that Philadelphians are fixated with New York as much as they are sick and tired of being compared with it. New York is this, New York has that. Name something good about Philadelphia and someone will point out that New York has one bigger and better and that Truman Capote threw a party there once.


Nobody can hate the Kansas City Royals. The team and its fans are as wholesome and nice and earnest as the Midwest. Kansas City fans hate the Yankees for the same reason that Philadelphians despise New York. It's not that we begrudge New York its status as the Big Apple as much as we resent that New York can't concede the fact that maybe, just maybe, Philadelphia has something worth having that New York doesn't have.


So now Philadelphia has the World Series Championship. Thai we know New York thinks is worth having. And that's why Tug McGraw couldn't have said anything more apt.

The Wait Over, Pinstripes Were Everywhere


On a very special day, the city decided that the time had finally come to play hooky


By Mark Bowden, Inquirer Staff Writer


Nothing creates more municipal good will on a happy occasion than opening a busy street to pedestrians, as jubilant crowds of Phillies revelers demonstrated yesterday along Broad Street in the miles between City Hall and JFK Stadium.


Bright sunshine reflecting off pavements sluiced with water by street sweepers and ankle-high accumulations of white confetti on Broad Street just south of City Hall set off the street celebration perfectly, giving the event a feel similar to the annual Mummers Parade.


There were office workers leaning from windows high above the avenue, toasting victory and shouting “Phillies!” for hours after the procession of ballplayers had passed.  Riot-helmeted police observed the swirl of boozing fans calmly.  Beer and high spirits flowed.  The thick, sweet smell of marijuana drifted overhead.


Every two blocks was a Phillies mementos vendor, hawking “last chance” Phillies World Champion 1980 pennants and buttons and caps and record albums and ribbons.  Business was booming.  From out of a South Broad Street music shop spilled a disco Phillies fight tune, and clumps of schoolgirls in tight jeans stopped with their rowdy schoolboy companions to dance.  It was a day for the city to play hooky.


Bill Klinger, a white-haired long-time Phillies fan from Northeast Philadelphia, strode north against the flow of the crowd shortly after 1 p.m.  He seemed almost out of place, well-dressed and well-groomed.  Klinger wore a pale yellow jacket over a white button-down shirt and a red (for the Phillies) tie.  But his cheerful smile fit in perfectly.


“I watched the game on TV last night by myself because I couldn’t get tickets,” he said.  “So I drove down here today to catch some of the celebration.  I’ve been a Phillies fan for more than 25 years.  This has been a long time coming.  I planned to walk from City Hall all the way down to the Vet, but I gave up down around Taney Street and headed back.”


Klinger surveyed groups of beer-drinking, denim-clad youths weaving down Broad Street around him.  On another occasion, it might have been a sight for him to deplore.  But yesterday he just grinned.


“Isn’t this great?” he said.



All of America marveled Tuesday night at the poise and skill displayed by Philadelphia’s finest at Veterans Stadium in preventing the destructive fan rampage that has become the traditional way of celebrating the last out of the World Series.


Anticipating a rush to the field after Tug McGraw’s final strikeout pitch, city police threw a cordon of men in blue, with dogs, practically shoulder-to-shoulder around the field.  Earlier in the game, mounted police paraded their horses conspicuously before the capacity crowd- hinting that they meant business.


It couldn’t have worked out better.  Only about two of the 65,838 fans violated the Vet’s now-hallowed plastic turf after the game, and they were quickly apprehended.  The stadium grounds crew, fearing excesses of enthusiasm bordering on vandalism, breathed a heavy sigh of relief- until they looked down, that is.


It seems the police horses left ample evidence of their presence:  large brown droppings all over the rug.  Stubborn brown droppings.  Grounds crew members were still on their hands and knees trying to scrub the stains away at 4:30 a.m. yesterday.



There were no boos from the crowd at JFK Stadium yesterday afternoon when controversial Phillies shortstop Larry Bowa was introduced to his occasionally less-than-adoring fans.


Bowa, who griped toward the end of the season about Phillies manager Dallas Green and (perish the thought) about the fans, had been greeted by Vet crowds with a warring mixture of applause and hoots ever since.  It has even been suggested that many fans were booing and clapping for him at the same time.


Well, the world waited for Larry Bowa to bury the hatchet yesterday afternoon.  And the skillful shortstop didn’t let them down.  He smiled and pronounced the World Series victory “the greatest thrill of my life,” and then pronounced Phillies fans “the greatest in the world.”


The enthusiastic crowd response indicated that Larry Bowa’s slate was clean for 1981.



Yesterday became an unscheduled day off at Milton Roy Co., a manufacturer of chemical pumps in Ivyland, Pa.  All 12 company employees were crowded at the corner of Walnut and Broad Streets yesterday afternoon.


Two young workers were helping to keep company president Bob Larkin steady on his feet.  It had been a long, happy night for the firm.


“We started partying out at Five Points in Levittown at about the seventh inning,” said Dave Creamer, a strapping, red-haired young man.  “We’ve been up all night, and we’re still going strong.”


Creamer’s explanation was interrupted for a moment when he was apparently seized with the need to exclaim:  “Phillies!  Yeah!”  holding one finger stiff over his head.  Then he resumed.


“We all called in sick earlier this morning,” he said.  “We turned to Bob here and told him we weren’t feeling up to working today.”


“I told ‘em to take it easy until they felt better,” said Larkin, who was leaning comfortably on the shoulder of Dave’s brother, Dan, and sipping from a bottle of beer.



Bright red Phillies caps were blooming along Broad Street like tulips on a Dutch postcard.


There were shiny plastic fake batting helmets with “Gulf” logos on the back, floppy red weekend duffer hats with “Phillies” on the front, white hats with red Phillies insignia and, of course, red hats with white insignia.


There were college-football-type caps with the Philadelphia Phillies spelled out on them, and even, in what is perhaps the ultimate profanation, Pittsburgh Pirates-style hats, red with white stripes, with a Phillies P on the front.


Almost all of these hats were of recent vintage- they were made primarily of plastic, an industry that invaded and conquered the baseball cap business in the last few years.  Along with plastic grass and plastic bleacher seats came the adjustable plastic straps on the back of team caps.


But here and there in the crowd was a slightly faded, genuine, all-cloth Phillies cap, a sure indication of a fan whose allegiance predates the near-championship teams of recent Phillies history.  There was one topping the black curly hair of Steve Semola, a 17-year-old Stratford, N.J., Phillies fan playing hooky in Center City yesterday from Sterling High School.


Young Semola’s eyes were about the same shade of faded red as his battered Phillies cap.


“My Dad got this one at the Vet a long time ago,” he said.  “I been wearing it to Phillies games ever since.  Man, I been with the Phillies all my life, me and my Pop.  I wouldn’t sell this hat for anything.”



Topped with an oversized plastic Phillies batting helmet and nearly fast asleep in his father’s arms was Bobby Shaw, 3.  Bobby was decked out in full Phillies uniform, red pin-striped right down to his little red sneakers.  Dangling from his left arm, which was draped over his father’s shoulder, was a handsome fielder’s mitt.


“Bobby, I’m afraid, has just about run out of gas,” said Peter Shaw, who was holding the boy off to one side of the passing crowd.  “He stayed up to watch the whole game with us last night and went out on the porch to shout when it was over.  He’s beat.”


Shaw was waiting with Taube Weinberg, a young woman decked out in red pin stripes and a Phillies cap, who was still determined though the parade had passed more than an hour ago, to catch a glimpse of Del Unser.


“I think the parade is over,” a passer-by suggested gently.


“Yeah, I think you’re right,” she said, “but I didn’t see him in any of the cars that went past, so I thought there might be a few more late ones up there.”



Greg Volk, a freckled, fair-skinned, athletic-looking young man with a face flushed with the effects of all-night partying, confessed that, despite his outward cheerfulness, he had lost $30 on the World Series.


“You bet against the Phillies?” a companion asked.


“Sure,” Volk said.  “You know they always lose.”  He hesitated for a minute, and then corrected himself.  “Well, at least they always used to lose.”



Street sweepers were not designated as crowd-control devices, despite the aptness of their names, but city officials used them to great effect late yesterday afternoon after the parade, when it came time to nudge thousands of determined partiers off Broad Street.


Nothing scoots a crowd to the sidewalk faster than a stiff spray of cold water.  The big yellow vehicles swooshed down from City Hall, brushes spinning, and the Red Sea of Phillies fans parted before them unhesitantly.


Street crews followed quickly, dismantling barricades and flipping them up on the back of their trucks.  Gradually, the streets were cleared and cleaned at the same time.


Looking south, the wide avenue seemed cold and empty.  A light chilly breeze blew north from the Vet, late the scene of world championship baseball, now transformed for a time, after one long, ecstatic day, into exclusive Eagles territory.


A crowd of college boys, gathered around the dwindling store of beer cans in their red cooler, picked up the slight shift in the wind.


“On to the Super Bowl!” they shouted.

They won it without him


As Phils grab glory, Ozark watches on TV


By George Shirk, Inquirer Staff Writer


For the man whose dream of being there died in midseason of 1979, only to be resurrected – without him – in 1980, the Phillies' world championship Tuesday night spawned conflicting emotions.


Danny Ozark, the manager who led the Phillies to the brink of a National League pennant in 1976, 1977 and 1978 but who could not lead them any further, sat with his wife in front of their television at their home in Vero Beach, Fla., and watched the Phillies become world champions.


"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.


"It all 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."


Ozark, currently third base coach with the Los Angeles Dodgers, said he paid close attention to the National League Championship Series and to the World Series, even though during the playoffs he was driving to Florida from southern 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."


To Ozark, the Phillies' capture of the National League pennant was more important than their world championship.


"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 had won the World Series, Ozark said, he received several telephone calls from fans. Some fans called from Reading. A fan called from Doylestown.


And then Ozark picked up the phone and did some calling on his own. His first call of congratulations was to 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 particulars the players. "Maddox, Schmidt, Bowa, Boone, Bake, Luzinskl Ruthven, Carlton, Christenson, Reed, McGraw those players all were with me. We developed the club together. We suffered together."


And yet Ozark hinted that he thought perhaps it should have been him and not necessarily Dallas Green who Tuesday night emerged from the Veterans Stadium dugout, waving his cap madly above his head.


Asked for an assessment of Green's managing, Ozark said:


"He used them just about the same way I did," Ozark said. "He used everybody, and you have to use 25 men to win the pennant and the World Series."

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