Bowa fired as Phillies look to future

Like anybody else, Larry Bowa has many faults. Perhaps his biggest fault -- if one wants to label it that -- is that he loves baseball and the Philadelphia Phillies more than anyone else. Bowa eats, sleeps and breathes the Phillies, which very well could have been his undoing. Very often he was unrelenting, curt, difficult, crude and mean when pursuing what was most important to him than, seemingly, anything in his life.

That was winning ballgames for the Phillies.

The Phillies relieved Larry Bowa from his duties as manager of the ballclub on Saturday afternoon, general manager Ed Wade announced in a somber press conference an hour prior to the next-to-last game of the 2004 season. And like anything that involves Bowa, the move was emotional and difficult.

Bench coach Gary Varsho will guide the club for the final two games of the season, which obviously was not the move Wade nor team president David Montgomery wanted to make until next week.

Bowa, as usual, forced the issue.

After responding to questions in his pre-game meeting with the writers regarding numerous published reports speculating on his imminent ouster, Bowa forced Wade to make a decision.

Now.

"When I got to the ballpark this afternoon, I got a call from Larry Bowa asking me to come see him," Wade said at a news conference. "He said he's been getting inundated with questions about his job status and wanted to know sooner or later. After a lengthy discussion, I decided the fairest thing to do was make a move at this time."

It was not the first time that Bowa had forced Wade to make a decision regarding his status as manager of the Phillies. Just last month, Bowa responded to a story in the Bucks County Courier Times by asking Wade to fire him immediately or give him a vote of confidence. In response, Wade fired off a hastily written press release saying that all coaching staff would be evaluated at the end of the season.

	Ed Wade explains his decision to fire Larry Bowa during a press conference before Saturday night's game against the Marlins. (AP)

Even though Bowa and the Phillies had wrapped up the franchise's first consecutive winning seasons in more than two decades as well as second place in the NL East for the second time in the skipper's four season, he had failed to end the 11-year postseason drought for the losingest franchise in North American sports history.

Surely there was no escaping his fate either. Despite blatant campaigning to save his job in which he used the club's plethora of injuries during 2004 as song and verse, Bowa always talked about returning for 2005, but deep down had to see the writing on the wall.

After Wade made the decision, Bowa took off his Phillies uniform for the last time and quickly left the ballpark before anyone knew what had happened. Wade informed the coaching staff, players and Montgomery of the news sometime between 4 p.m. and 5 p.m.

"Ed determined it and made the decision, but it's one I support,'' Montgomery told reporters." Ed came and told me his decision, but in no way am I going to wash my hands of this decision."

Neither is Wade, who said the failure to reach the club's goals this season is as much the fault of his and the players as it is Bowa's.

"The disappointment of this season does not rest with one person. It rests with myself, Larry, the staff, players, we all take a measure of responsibility. This should not be construed as finger pointing at one individual for why we are here today," Wade said. "I greatly appreciate what Larry has done and it wasn't a decision that was arrived at easily. It was certainly one that was struggled with for quite some time."

Nevertheless, it was a decision that everyone knew was coming. As Bowa would have it, the verdict came sooner rather than later.

At the same time, Wade's ouster has been called for almost as much as Bowa's by the Philadelphia fans. When injuries ravaged the club, Wade was unable to make any type of significant deal to make the team better. Instead, he picked up less-than-mediocre journeyman Paul Abbott for the rotation. He also added Cory Lidle, who has pitched well, and veteran relievers Todd Jones and Felix Rodriguez.

In 2003 when the Phillies were battling the Florida Marlins for the wild-card berth, Wade added Mike Williams, Valerio de los Santos and Kelly Stinnett. Wade has also traded away Scott Rolen and Curt Schilling, who are both in the mix to win the big postseason awards as well as the World Series.

Be that as it may, Wade isn't going anywhere. In fact, Montgomery gave Wade an enthusiastic vote of confidence after the announcement about Bowa was made.

"He has put together a championship-caliber team and made a good decision in hiring Larry Bowa four years ago," Montgomery said. "I think he can take us to a championship."

Though Bowa kept pointing out the injuries at every turn -- pitchers Kevin Millwood, Randy Wolf and Vicente Padilla, all three former All-Stars, missed about 35 starts. Reliever Ryan Madson was sidelined more than a month and closer Billy Wagner was out almost 11 weeks, and was placed on the disabled list twice in 2004 -- Wade dismissed the notion. Sure, the injuries had an affect on the club, but injuries are a part of baseball. The Anaheim Angels are a team that had numerous injuries in 2004, but they were able to overcome them and advance to the postseason for the second time in the past three years. The same goes for the Houston Astros, a team that overcame injuries to as many key members of the pitching staff as the Phillies. Somehow, the Astros were able to overcome and advance to the playoffs.

"We don't want to dwell on injuries. We're not going to use anything as an excuse," Wade said. "We're not going to portray Larry as the scapegoat, but in our evaluation of things we are in a situation where we need a different voice."

Though speculation runs rampant, no one has any concrete idea who will stand behind that next voice.

Who is next? Wade says the Phillies are not looking for a certain "type" of manager to guide the club where only one other skipper ultimately took the club. The next manager may or may not be the "anti-Bowa" just as Bowa was the polar opposite of his predecessor, Terry Francona. Who knows, the next manager might not even be Wade's first choice to guide the club, just as Bowa was not the top before finally getting the job in 2000.

According to team sources, the Phillies were all set to name Darren Daulton as the team's skipper heading into the 2001 season. In fact, as the story goes, press releases had been written and a phone call to Daulton was about to be made informing him that he had the job before special assistant Dallas Green stepped in like the governor with a midnight reprieve to stop the execution. Instead, Bowa was hired and the rest is, well, history.

Still, Wade remains pleased that Bowa was the one he hired four years ago.

"When I hired Larry four years ago he was clearly the right person for the job," Wade said. "Anyone who has been around during the past four years knows the knowledge he has, the passion for the game and the commitment to winning."

Though he was the prodigal son returning yet again to a franchise he has carrying the stormiest of relationships with, Bowa was considered as someone from within the organization. That is a road the Phillies would not be shy about trodding down again if the situation is right, Wade says.

Often laughed at for its need to relive its past (one played upon hearing there was a pre-game ceremony before a game earlier this season chided, "What, is this the 14th anniversary of the 10 anniversary of something that happened in 1980?"), the next Phillies manager could very well come from close to home.

Special assistant Charlie Manuel, Triple-A skipper Marc Bombard, Bob Boone, Varsho and (are you ready for this... ) Jim Fregosi are names that have been bandied about.

From outside of the organization, Bob Brenly, Davey Johnson, Mike Hargrove and Grady Little have been mentioned as possible replacements, but chances are the new skipper is still out there somewhere. Before the franchise settled on Bowa, third base coach John Vukovich, Boone, Daulton, Rick Dempsey, Jeff Newman, Lloyd McClendon, Willie Randolph and Ruben Amaro Sr.

Wade said some of those fellows could find themselves on the list of interviewees again.

"We want to find someone who gives us the best opportunity to win, and it's not comparing and contrasting one manager against another," Wade said. "It's about finding the right manager for our circumstances."

Bowa's tenure To describe Bowa's time as manager of the Phillies as "stormy" or "controversial" would be gross understatements. Along those lines, "harmonious" would not be a way to describe any team managed by Bowa. Oh sure, the players get along very well. In fact, Jimmy Rollins stated earlier this season that the 2004 club rates as the most cohesive group he's been with.

So what's the trouble? Take a big guess.

	Larry Bowa compiled a 337-308 record during his four seasons as the Phillies manager. (AP)

On several occasions over the past two seasons, the acrimony between the players and coaches has been so palatable that one could cut the tension in the air with a butter knife. And despite having a room full of some of the best character guys in sports, the Phillies clubhouse was often not a nice place to be.

Because he was the manager, Bowa is responsible for fostering that atmosphere.

Surely the players were put off by Bowa's emotional style and life-or-death way he was perceived of handling every pitch of the game, but it went deeper than that. Players thought Bowa was conniving and undermining and always trying willing to put someone else down if it meant putting himself in a better light.

Former Phillies with other clubs either refused to speak about Bowa or they say that the current Phillies report no changes in Bowa's demeanor despite reports of the contrary.

"I really believe that Larry tried to change. In fact, I know Larry tried to change," Wade said. "We had that conversation about how he has tried to adjust and adapt to certain situations. I think he did his darndest to try and do that for us."

But perception and reputation are hard to overcome. In 2003, Sports Illustrated printed a poll of players in which Bowa was rated as the worst manager.

Think that's just the "spoiled" millionaire players who complain about Bowa? Guess again. Even old-school baseball lifers have certain perceptions of Bowa. One complained that Bowa was a "whiny [jerk] when he was a player and he's a whiny [jerk] now."

Often, players and coaches old and new want to talk about Bowa's relationship with former Phillie Scott Rolen, who in a recent poll conducted by Peter Gammons of ESPN, was regarded as the most respected player in baseball.

The relationship between Bowa and Rolen certainly has been well documented in these parts, but the current players have been very quiet about their true feelings about their former skipper. On the way out, the players had nothing but kind words for Bowa.

"Ever since I got here, Larry has always treated me with respect," said Jim Thome, before his voice trailed off and he walked away from a group of reporters.

Wade said he told the players to behave with a certain decorum in giving them the news.

"I spoke to [the players] about the importance for those who are back next year to understand to approach this in a professional manner, and to clearly recognize that we all take responsibility for what's taken place here today," Wade said. "I would certainly hope that the atmosphere we create in spring training will allow us to get to our ultimate goal, which is to win a championship. Our goal wasn't to finish second. Our goal wasn't to go through the things that we've gone through this year. Our responsibility is to create a different environment."

Certainly such a statement wasn't necessary with this bunch of Phillies. Actually, most were very contrite and felt as though they let Bowa down.

"It was just a pleasure to play for Bo and I enjoyed it. I hate to see it come to this,'' Wagner said. "He's a great man and we should feel a bit responsible for this."

Said shortstop Jimmy Rollins, who spent a lot of time working with Bowa by virtue of being the team's scrappy shortstop, "You expect to play for more than one manager over the course of your career, but he's going to surface somewhere. It's just unfortunate that it had to happen the way it did. I believe he is a good manager, you just have to accept him for who he is."

Regardless of what is said of Bowa, no one can deny that he is a great baseball professional. Though the chances of him managing another team in the immediate future seem slim, there is no doubt that Bowa will be in a big league uniform -- if he chooses to be -- before spring training starts in February.

At the same time, Bowa gets to keep collecting a check from the Phillies. And if he is given credit for one thing, it is raising the level of expectation for the baseball team in Philadelphia. That's good.

"Larry is not going to struggle to find a job," Wade said, expressing a familiar sentiment. "Remember, he is under contract with us through 2005 and we will pay him through the life of his contract, but at the same time I expect him to be in uniform at the Major League level trying to help a team win next year."

Chances are he'll keep doing it his way, too.

E-mail John R. Finger

Thome opens Citizens Bank Park with a bang

John R. Finger ComcastSportsNet.com

	Jim Thome smashes the first hit in new Citizens Bank Park over the right-field fence for a home run on Saturday afternoon. (AP)

Let the record show that the very first chorus of boos in Citizens Bank Park drowned out every word of mayor John Street's pregame address at exactly 1:03 p.m. on Saturday afternoon.

That Philly cheer morphed into the first standing ovation a minute later when Jim Thome stepped to the microphone to thank the fans and the construction workers for their role in opening the spanking new ballpark.

But the real ovation came barely 25 minutes later, and this one came complete with a curtain call, to boot. That's when Thome smashed a 2-1 offering from the Indians' Jeff D'Amico into the seats in right field for the first ever hit at Citizens Bank Park.

Yeah, it was exactly like a corny Disney movie. The team's blue-collar, Paul Bunyan-esque slugger with that everyman/aw-shucks demeanor coming back from an injury to sock a homer against his former team for the very first hit in his new team's brand-new stadium? Come on. That's too hokey.

The only thing that would have made the blast more Hollywood was for Thome to step out of the batter's box, point his bat toward the outfield fence and call his shot.

"Yeah, I knew it," pitcher Randy Wolf said. "I knew he was going to hit [a home run in his first at-bat]."

Wolf, who called the blast from the dugout, believes Thome sensed something was about to happen, too.

"I think he knew it was his moment," Wolf said.

Certainly, Thome has a flair for the dramatic. Last spring, the slugger smashed an opposite-field homer in his first plate appearance as a Phillie off -- coincidentally enough -- D'Amico in Bradenton, Fla. In his first regular season appearance with the Phillies, Thome smacked a screaming liner that missed clearing the fence at ProPlayer Stadium by two feet. A few days later, he came just as close to knocking one out in his home debut at the Vet.

So was a home run for the first hit at the new ballpark really that shocking? Come on, you could see this coming from a mile away.

"You couldn't have scripted that any better," manager Larry Bowa said.

Said catcher Mike Lieberthal: "It was pretty incredible. He didn't just hit a home run, he hit a bomb."

Meanwhile, Thome played down the big blast. After all, Saturday's game, which ended in a 6-5 victory for the Indians, was nothing more than an exhibition and a dress rehearsal in the brand-new ballpark. Thome played just five innings while Bowa tried to get his bench players some game action before the season starts on Monday. Admittedly a bit behind schedule after missing three weeks of spring training with a broken finger, Thome says he went to the plate with the intent to get his timing down.

"It is an exhibition game, but it means a lot because of what they're trying to do here," Thome said.

But a Jim Thome at-bat is more than a mere workout even during spring training. With the buzz from the sellout crowd growing louder with every pitch, the atmosphere in the park was more like a game during a hot pennant race in late September than a silly exhibition in early April. Thome, still just out for a workout, felt the excitement.

"The atmosphere here was great," he said. "You can build a new ballpark, but it's still all about the crowd."

But it wasn't just the crowd that got a chance to be impressed on Saturday.

"He the one guy who turns me into a fan in the dugout," Wolf said.

First time out Not only did the fans get their first glimpses of Citizens Bank Park, but also the Phillies got their first opportunity to check out their new digs. Though it's hard to judge a ballpark after just one game, Citizens Bank Park seems to be on its way to becoming a bandbox. During batting practice, players had very little difficulty smacking the ball into the seats, and they did not have too much trouble making the transition to live action. Aside from Thome's bomb, Pat Burrell clubbed a three-run shot that he did not think was going to reach the seats.

"I don't think it would have gone out at the Vet," Burrell said.

For the Indians, Casey Blake and Chris Clapinski both homered to left, while the Omar Vizquel and Jody Gerut knocked out doubles. For the Phils, David Bell and Lieberthal both skied long drives to the warning track that just might find the seats when the chilly air turns warm in the summer.

"It seemed to be carrying very well," Thome said. "It was not that cold today, but still for the most part in April the ball does not carry very well in any park. I remember when we opened the new ballpark in Cleveland, the ball did not carry very well and it carried pretty well today."

The Phillies -- at least the hitters -- seemed to enjoy how well the ball carried.

"I don't know what's going to happen down the road, but judging from BP, it's a hitter's park," Burrell said.

Needless to say, the pitchers aren't exactly overjoyed by this development.

"I'm going to enjoy hitting here," Wolf said. "But it looks like I'm going to have to try to keep the ball down."

As for making the switch from NeXturf (phew! Thank goodness we aren't going to have to use that word anymore) to natural grass, the reviews were good.

"The grass is soft," said Jimmy Rollins, who had seven chances on Saturday. "It played true. It's good dirt for running. It's a pretty fast track."

Rollins also noticed that the outfield grass played slower than the infield sod and added that there are definitely slower infields in the National League.

"This infield is faster than Wrigley," he said. "I'm sure in the summer when it's warmer and after they've cut it a few times, it will play a little quicker."

Final cuts Following the game, the Phillies sent Chase Utley, Geoff Geary, Lou Collier, Jim Crowell and A.J. Hinch to Triple-A Scranton/Wilkes-Barre. That means the team will carry six bench players and seven relief pitchers. It also means that the club could not find another team willing to make a trade for Ricky Ledee and that veteran Doug Glanville and rookie Ryan Madson earned spots on the team.

"I still can't believe it," Madson said after learning his fate. "I'm going to take it all in, call my family and celebrate a little bit."

Though the moves do not come as much as a surprise, Bowa says the decision to send Utley down was one of his most difficult as manager of the Phils. In the end, Bowa says, it came down to both what was best for Utley and Glanville's versatility.

"The toughest (cut) for me was Utley. But getting 10 at-bats a month wouldn't do him any good. He was the player probably most disappointed. But, barring injury, it would've been tough getting the at-bats."

Glanville will, more than likely, see most of his action as a late-inning defensive replacement or pinch runner.

Now is the time

If there is one thing that drives me nuts -- batty even -- is cliches, tired and derivative ideas, and unoriginality. The biggest culprit of this, it seems to me, is the media. Pack journalism, or "piggybacking" is a disturbing trend practiced by one too many and eschewed by too few. Often, those who indulge in the hack-styled, baseline reporting are trying to get finished with their work so they can move on to something else that, typically, is social in nature. Now I have no problem with that, but if you're going to play hard, work hard. Come on, who grew up wanting to be a big-league writer or reporter just so they could go out there and hack it up?

Here's my credo: When given an opportunity to do something creative and get paid for it, dive on top of it like you're trying to smother a grenade that is about to kill your wife. The fact that people in the media are blessed with the opportunity to be creative and original for a living, is colossal when compared to what normal people must do at their jobs. For most people, the only creative outlet they get each day is deciding what to order for lunch.

Anyway, I wrote a preseason story about the Phillies, which, not so subtly attacked this notion. At the same time, I twisted the knife into my own carcass because I shamelessly used the same very premise I was attacking. Kind of ironic, heh?

Still, it is my goal to take a different view of everything when it comes to writing and reporting. In fact, it's gotten to the point where I refuse to re-use concepts I may have trotted out years ago during another time and circumstance. My pursuit of freshness is so intense that it's one and done for every idea. But from what I can tell, this isn't something that is practiced by other media types. This is especially true of those who work in television where cliches aren't frowned upon, they're cravenly embraced like a stuffed animal won at the ring-toss booth of at a carnival.

OK, so I'm better than everyone else, right? Wrong. It's just that I find myself getting in less trouble when I choose to follow my own ideas, thoughts and creativity than if I write the nuts-and-bolts story. See, it's selfish. Sure, it's extra work and a lot of times the ideas miss, but at least I'll never be called unoriginal.

Alright, here's the story. Incidentally, I received a lot of positive response to it so I guess people enjoyed the joke.

Then again, maybe they just like reading about baseball.

Here:

Ka-boom!

Last September, Veterans Stadium held its last game and prepared itself for implosion. At that point, I was finished with the big, clumsy stadium. I saw it every time I drove into my office, and I was looking forward to working in the new ballpark being built directly across the street. Basically, I was quite ambivalent about the demise of the Vet. I suppose I had already spent myself writing about it. Oh, but how quickly things change. Last Sunday I stayed up all night (and morning) in order to get to my office at the Wachovia Center by 4 a.m. and before the mandated 5 a.m. "lockdown." Still non-plussed about the implosion, I joked around in the office and worked ahead to lessen the load I would have to carry after the event. After all, as every one knows, when the game or event ends, that's when media-types like me go to work. Rarely do I get to revel in what I had just seen until later.

Anyway, a funny thing happened a few minutes before the detonators were pushed -- it was as if all those feelings I had pushed aside had surfaced and manifested itself into a shaking right hand, although that could have been the liters of caffeine I had dumped into my body in attempt to stay awake all night. Nevertheless, I had bizarre mixed emotions... I was both happy that the old building was being put out of its misery, and sad that I would not be able to show the place to my kids. It was weird.

Still, I found it quite odd that this place that had spoken of with such contempt -- it was a dump, frankly -- by so many people, in which the phrase, "We need a new stadium in order to compete... " was so mourned. It seemed a bit odd watching people who had beat the drum for a new stadium for so long suddenly turn to blubbering fools once the plunger was pushed.

Which is it, dude, is he gonna shit or is he gonna kill us?

As one can imagine, I spent a lot of time at old Veterans Stadium and it's really weird to see its remains resting on the corner of Broad and Pattison like a model of Ground Zero. I felt like I had witnessed an execution; sure it was warranted, but killing is wrong whether it's sanctioned or not.

Oh well, rest in pieces Veterans Stadium.

Here are my stories from last Sunday. This one is about the implosion and This one is a popular piece about growing up going to the Vet.

Here are some pictures of the implosion and these are pictures that I took during the last season.

Now is the time: Phillies open camp filled with high expectations

John R. Finger ComcastSportsNet.com

CLEARWATER, Fla. -- Quick, has anyone seen any story, TV clip, or mention of the Phillies' opening of spring training that did not start with the phrase, "Now is the time."

Anyone?

Didn't think so.

When Larry Bowa placed those red t-shirts in every locker of the spanking-new clubhouse at Bright House Networks Field, he not only put his players (and himself) on notice, but he also provided the local scribes and talking heads with a ready-made lead.

Not bad.

Nevertheless, t-shirt philosophy and cliché-addled copy be damned, is there a better slogan for the 2004 Phillies? After all, now (thanks Larry) really IS the time.

What? Does "World Series or Bust" sound a little too bold?

Regardless of what the Phillies wear while they soak in the warm Florida sunshine as they begin their eight-month pursuit to play baseball in October, it is hard to cloak the high expectations enveloping every aspect of this club. Yes, failure to reach the post-season for the first time in 11 seasons would be bad. Very, very bad. Hey, Now is the Time.

And why shouldn't it be? New players, new stadiums, new outlook...

"We're supposed to win," new closer Billy Wagner told Comcast SportsNet. "I'm supposed to play good and everyone in that clubhouse is supposed to play good. It's not like it's something that's just on my shoulders, it's going to take an effort from 25 guys to go out there and win the World Series."

Yeah, it always does. But the 25 players the Phillies will head into the season with are as talented as any nine a Philadelphia club has fielded since... well, ever. Gone are Jose Mesa, Terry Adams, Turk Wendell, Brandon Duckworth, Mike Williams, Dan Plesac, Carlos Silva and Nick Punto. Arriving are Roberto Hernandez, Todd Worrell, Eric Milton, Shawn Wooten, Doug Glanville and Wagner, while Kevin Millwood, Jim Thome and David Bell return with mainstays Bobby Abreu, Pat Burrell, Mike Lieberthal, Vicente Padilla and Randy Wolf.

Simply adding Wagner, probably the best lefthanded closer ever, would have been enough, but the Phillies, with general manager Ed Wade calling the shots, added starter Milton, re-signed Millwood and shored up the 'pen with former All-Star closers Hernandez and Worrell.

Geez. Who owns this team? Steinbrenner?

"It's pretty exciting to see the evolution of the team from '99 until now," Wolf told Comcast SportsNet. "There was no secret that when I came up, we weren't a very good team and we went through really tough times. I think the progress of us getting players like Jim Thome, Billy Wagner and the development of a lot of young guys coming up -- such as myself, Brett Myers -- is pretty cool. To see the culmination of the ballplayers with the new ballpark here in Clearwater and the new ballpark in Philadelphia is pretty cool to see. Everything is coming together at once."

Ah yes, like boastful t-shirts and lofty goals, optimism oozes like lava from a volcano during spring training. Everyone is healthy and happy with unlimited potential. Tough-minded questions and the notion of what could go wrong hasn't even entered into the conversation yet. In fact, the perception that there is pressure on this team to win, and win now, was quickly dismissed by Bowa.

Never mind those t-shirts he was passing out.

But since we're working with an unoriginal concept here, let's play the question game. Perhaps when the club heads north in six weeks, the answers will be that much clearer.

· Has Pat Burrell fixed the problems that ruined his 2003 season? Is he the 37-homer, 116-RBI guy from 2002 or the guy who batted .209 last season?

· Is David Bell's back and hip healthy?

· Can Jimmy Rollins grasp the concepts that have made Juan Pierre one of the most exciting players in the game?

· Will the team cut down on all of those strikeouts that have plagued the club like walking pneumonia since Bowa took over in 2001?

· Will Marlon Byrd avoid the dreaded "sophomore slump"?

· Are the rumors about Vicente Padilla's alleged drinking problem truly fiction?

· Can Jim Thome hit 50 homers?

· Can Placido Polanco stay healthy?

· What's going to happen with Chase Utley?

· How many post-game pies will Tomas Perez dish out this season?

· Burrell?

· Is Milton's knee ready for 34 starts?

· Can Wolf maintain his All-Star form?

· Is Abreu ready for the breakout season people are touting?

· Will the Phanatic be allowed to ride his motorcycle on the new grass at Citizen's Bank Park?

· Are veterans Hernandez and Worrell ready to go the entire season injury free?

· Can Rheal Cormier encore his strong 2003 season?

· Will Bowa and his players get along?

· How good will the view from the new press box be?

· Burrell?

· Is Millwood in good enough shape to be able to crank it up during the stretch run?

· Finally, is it possible for a parade down Broad St. in October? Has there ever been a season so eagerly anticipated than 2004? "There's a lot of excitement because of what we've brought in," Wagner told Comcast SportsNet. "Being part of a trade and the expectation to win a World Series is something that's new to me. Each year in Houston we took one step forward and two steps back, get one guy, get rid of two, but here it seems like they have made a commitment to doing what they want to do."

Play Ball!

Hey, now is the time.

E-mail John R. Finger

Pete Rose book tour hits Philadelphia

John R. Finger ComcastSportsNet.com

Pete Rose was not in unknown environs. In fact, Rose has spent the better part of the past decade in similar situations. The line 'em up and sign drill that has become the main source of income for many former athletes who missed out on sports' big money has become as ubiquitous as the jocks themselves.

	Pete Rose signs a book for a young reader at the Barnes & Noble near Rittenhouse Square on Friday. Rose, who won a World Series title with the Phillies in 1980, was in town to promote his book, which is currently No. 1 on the New York Times best-seller list for non-fiction. (AP)

So there was Pete Rose on Friday afternoon, signing away with his cache of black sharpies at his side. This time, however, old Charlie Hustle wasn't doing a sign-for-pay gig that has sustained him since his banishment from baseball. No, this time, the Hustler was in a Barnes & Noble across the street from Rittenhouse Square, where he added his signature to copies of his latest "As told to" epic called, cleverly, Pete Rose: My Prison Without Bars.

And once again, Pete Rose's presence had nothing to do with baseball.

Dressed casually in a Cincinnati Reds colored Nike dri-fit top, blue sweat pants, gaudy Nike cross-trainers all accessorized by a large gold watch, Rose signed his latest book, and his latest book only on Friday. Patrons who braved the sub-zero wind chills to spend the $18.69 (30 percent discount included) got to spend 25 minutes in line to be shepherded out of the signing area and into the fiction section of the store after Rose scrawled his distinctive autograph on the book. Oh sure, occasionally there would be an acknowledgment, a "thank you for coming," and some sports-related chitchat.

Though his book admits a penchant for gambling on football, no one asked Rose which way he was leaning for next week's Super Bowl. No one asked him what he thought of the revamped Phillies chances in 2004, either, but Rose offered takes on the Eagles ("Three years in a row... ") and his hometown Bengals' future with top draft pick Carson Palmer ("They gave the kid a $12 million bonus and he didn't take one snap... ").

But that's about all Rose had to say on Friday. Between chastising autograph seekers for asking for multiple signatures on the five or six books they had purchased, including one elderly woman who was sent on her way with a, "you're cute. Now get outta here," or for asking for a personalized signature ("Everyone has a son or daughter they want to give this to."), Rose was an efficient signer. Occasionally, he would stop so that he could get a quick swig from a beverage provided by the store's cappuccino bar, but rarely did Rose look away from the task at hand.

Just like during his playing days, Rose was all business. Which, sadly, is what Friday's signing was all about.

Sure, no one can begrudge Rose for writing a book to make some money. After all, he never masked its release as an unspoken desire to contribute to the culture's literary history. However, there seemed to be an element that Rose was going to have his lifetime banishment from baseball lifted if he admitted to gambling on the game while a manager for the Reds during the late 1980s. But Rose's concessions appear to have stalled his reinstatement, and the focus is less about returning to the game he claims he "owes" and more on the bottom line.

Perhaps that is why Rose has refused to meet with the media at any of the stops on his book tour. Reportedly, baseball's all-time hit leader received payment for his tell-all interviews on ABC's Prime Time and Good Morning America. If he has nothing to gain — at least monetarily — from talking to the press, why should he?

Nevertheless, Rick Hill, as in "as told to... " chatted away with the media while his muse signed away. Leaning againsta shelf holding books by William Shakespeare when he spoke, Hill related stories about his relationship with Rose. For instance, it took Rose six months into the writing process to admit to Hill that he bet on baseball, and that he says Rose's addiction to gambling is no different than any other type of addiction. Most of all, he believes Rose is a pretty decent star to pin his literary hopes on.

"Pete Rose's life is a Greek tragedy. He reached a god-like status in his profession, and had a tragic fall from grace. When you're writing that story, you don't want the hero to fall and you want to relish that. You can't stomp him down so low that you can't bring him back up," Hill said. "We cut 100 pages out of the book, which were elements that we dealt with things that are coming out in the press right now. They were cut because they were redundant. You can do 12 chapters on gambling. This is a full story of a life."

Reading the book — bias toward Rose aside — leaves one with a story of a man cloaked in sadness. There was a sad, yet loving relationship with his father, and his own family. There was the sadness of a man wallowing in the abyss of addiction, his inability to come to terms with it and his public revelations.

Sad. Not sadness in a condescending way, but in truest sense of the word. Sad because a man who had accomplished so much was now reduced to schlepping a book that is a diary of his failure.

"He feels liberated," Hill said. "The 63-year-old Pete Rose doesn't have the same cravings that the 50-year-old or 40-year-old Pete Rose had. He's slowing down. He's getting older."

He's getting richer, too. In just two hours on Friday, the Barnes & Noble sold approximately 800 copies of Rose's tome. Nationwide, the interest has been just as high as it is in Philadelphia. In fact, one observer noted that Rose's book signings rival only Howard Stern in generating a buzz and long lines that snake through the stacks. And unlike a fiction writer or literary lion, Rose doesn't give readings. Perhaps this is both a blessing and a curse.

Regardless, the sentiment from those waiting on line seems to be uniform. Though Rose bet on baseball, and the public just shelled out nearly 17 bucks to get their copy of the book signed, he should be admitted to the baseball Hall of Fame.

As far as full reinstatement that would allow Rose to don a uniform and manage a club, well...

"Put him in the Hall of Fame for what he did as a player, but don't let him back on the field," said Mike Capaldo, from Bucks County, as well as many others exiting with their signed copies.

Though the book is out and selling well, the final chapter on Pete Rose has yet to be written. Seemingly at a crossroads, the plot has several ways it can go. Will Rose ever show the contrition some are clamoring for that will lead to his reinstatement, or will Rose need another product to keep him in the public eye and keep the cash rolling in?

Which way will the story go?

"I think it will be happy ending," Hill said, though he couldn't speculate how.

Either way, tomorrow brings a new city and more books to sign.

E-mail John R. Finger

Tug made us all have fun

John R. Finger ComcastSportsNet.com

Everyone has a Tug McGraw story.

There was a time at spring training — just a week and a half before he was diagnosed with cancer — when Tug didn't like the way Randy Wolf shouted, "I got it!" during a fielding drill. It appeared to Tug that Wolf was handling himself a little too business-like for his tastes. Sure, it was just a drill on a typical Tuesday morning in Clearwater where not much was happening, but to Tug, Wolfie just didn't seem to be into it enough.

	Tug McGraw leaps into the air after striking out Willie Wilson on Oct. 21, 1980. (AP)

"Is that all you got?" the fun-time reliever shouted while running from third base toward Wolf. "All you have to do is be loud."

McGraw then stood on the mound screaming, "I got it! I got it!" demonstrating one aspect of the game that set him apart during his playing days. Certainly, there was no one in baseball would could match McGraw's emotion.

On that day, McGraw certainly made an impression. After his demonstration, every player tried to scream louder than the one before, but none could match McGraw's vocal prowess. Brandon Duckworth came pretty close. So did Jose Mesa. In fact, Wolf even improved his volume as the drill became less about fielding and more about who could scream as loud as crazy lefty standing near third who was reveling in the madness he created. But perhaps even most importantly, McGraw's point was properly made:

If you're going to do something, have fun.

You're damn right.

It's pretty fair to say that no one had more fun playing baseball than Tug McGraw, who died from cancer on Monday with his family at his bedside near Nashville, Tenn. Actually, that might not be fair to say at all. We're probably shortchanging Tug more than a little bit. After all, Tug was a guy who — clad in a black leather jacket, of course — told New York to "stick it" in front of 100,000 people at JFK Stadium the day after the Phillies won the World Series. Of course Tug had to be the center of that party, too. He got to throw the last pitch, leap as high as an Irish guy from California could before summoning the entire Delaware Valley to pile on top.

Fun? That's not even close.

Tug once said that if the FDA ever came into the Phillies clubhouse during the 1980 season, it would "shut down baseball."

For those of us who grew up living and dying with every pitch during the Phillies' golden age, McGraw was the one most like us. With his nervousness and neurosis manifesting itself with slaps against his thigh with his gloved hand at the end of an inning, or taps on his chest after a loud drive slipped foul, he expressed himself in the way any eight-year old would. When we said "Phew! That was close," Tug was saying the same thing on the mound in front of everyone.

But that was just Tug style. He wasn't cool and detached like Steve Carlton or Mike Schmidt, he felt what we were feeling. He knew the magnitude of a situation but was smart enough to keep it all in perspective. It was only baseball, after all. It's supposed to be fun.

When asked what he was going to do with the money he received for making it to the World Series with the Mets in 1973, McGraw said: "Ninety percent I'll spend on good times, women and Irish whiskey. The other 10 percent I'll probably waste."

After escaping from a tough, late-inning jam against the Big Red Machine's Joe Morgan, George Foster, Tony Perez and Johnny Bench with his typical aplomb, Tug was asked by a reporter how he was able to stay so cool. "Well," he said. "Ten million years from now, when the sun burns out and the Earth is just a frozen snowball hurtling through space, nobody's going to care whether or not I got this guy out."

Yes, everyone has a Tug McGraw story.

"In almost 60 years, Tug got in about 110 years worth of living," teammate Bob Boone said. "There was no one I know who lived more than Tug McGraw. Those of us that really knew Tug will always be telling Tug stories."

Even the people who barely knew him will tell great stories. How many bars in towns across the National League did he spend nights in? How about in this city? Geez, I can't remember the first bar in Philadelphia I stepped into that didn't have a picture of Tug above the bar or door from a recent visit. Hell, my wife's grandmother even has a Tug McGraw story. She even saved the snapshots from some bleary-eyed meeting in Florida during the late 1970s.

Even though the pictures are out of focus, Tug has a huge grin plastered across his face and his arms around a couple of old ladies.

Hey, there were no velvet ropes with Tug. Everyone was welcome.

Why not? After all, this was a guy who added a smiley face at the end of his name when he signed autographs. He was a guy who used his barbering skills to give free haircuts to poor people in New York's Lower East Side. He wrote a children's book and a comic strip called "Scroogie." He announced his retirement on Valentine's Day of 1985 with the quip that "baseball stole my heart, but I was never a jilted lover."

Tug says he liked his 1958 car "because it plays old music."

He reported in the team's 1980 yearbook that his least favorite city was: "I don't know. I haven't been there yet." His biggest turn-on: "Larry Bowa (because) he makes unbelievable plays," while his biggest turn-off was: "Larry Bowa because he makes unbelievable noise."

Tug voraciously studied books about Babe Ruth and Ben Franklin and loved Elvis so much that he dressed and spoke like the King as a tribute on the anniversary of his death.

Those who know say his brother Hank is really wacky.

Yeah, we all remember watching Tug strike out Willie Wilson on Oct. 21, 1980, but it's particularly funny to note that his incentive to get Wilson out wasn't winning the only World Series in franchise history, it was avoiding a dire fate.

"When the police horses and dogs came out in the top of the ninth and ringed the field, I saw this enormous horse take a huge dump on the warning track. I said, 'Uh oh, I better not do with this game what that horse just did.' "

There are just so many stories and so many things to remember.

Like the time that kid born in the '70s was standing just outside of the visitor's dugout at McKechnie Field in Bradenton, Fla. before the Phillies took on the Pirates in the first spring training game of 2003. Suddenly, Larry Bowa walked two feet away and shouted, "Tug," with his arm in a throwing position. Without words and an errant throw away from a solid beaning, I watched Tug and Larry Bowa loosen up before batting practice while Mike Schmidt chatted with Harry Kalas a few feet to the left.

What, was Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny on the way, too?

Sure, we can talk and talk and talk about Tug for days. Doesn't seem like just yesterday that he struck out Willie Wilson? Guys like Tug are supposed to be retired. They aren't supposed to die. He was a guy who had time for everyone and was having the time of his life with you. He was one of us.

As the great Red Smith wrote in 1974: "He is a beautiful guy, a sensitive, emotional, demonstrative, genuine, outgoing, affectionate, exuberant, sad and sometimes irresponsible human being."

But he was also, as Smith wrote,"left-handed and lighthearted and not necessarily more predictable than the screwball he throws, but he is no dummy."

How could he be dumb? He was too busy making us all have fun.

E-mail John R. Finger

Tug McGraw dies at 59

John R. Finger ComcastSportsNet.com

Tug McGraw, the author of the most important pitches in Philadelphia baseball history, died Monday afternoon after a nine-month battle with brain cancer with his family by his bedside near Nashville, Tenn. at the age of 59. A cancerous tumor was found on McGraw's brain in March while the happy-go-lucky pitcher was working as an instructor for the Phillies at Spring Training.

Ya Gotta Believe!
David Montgomery "Tug was special. He gave us all great perspective. He competed very hard yet always managed to have so much fun doing it. He really connected with our fans and everyone in the organization." Bill Giles "To know Tug was to love him. He was more than just a pitcher, he was loved by everyone that knew him. He had a special spirit that will never be forgotten by anyone who saw him pitch and he is responsible for Philadelphia's most defining sports moment when he struck out Willie Wilson to win the city's only World Championship." Ed Wade "We were happy we were able to get Tug back in uniform two years ago and provide him with the opportunity to do what he loved to do. Tug was able to share his experiences and exuberance for the game and life with our young pitchers. He will be sorely missed." Larry Bowa "He epitomized what Philadelphia is all about. He was hard-working, dedicated and never gave up. The picture of him jumping up in the air after the last out in 1980 is very memorable. He was a great person and will be missed." Mike Schmidt "He put up a gallant fight. Publicly, he never let on that he had gotten a raw deal. He was Tug through the entire thing. As he always said, 'I front-loaded my life, just like my contract.' His passing is hard to take because his presence meant so much to people around him." Larry Andersen "When I came to the Phillies in 1983, we made it to the World Series. During the Series, I had my daughter there who was only 13-days old at the time. Tug took one look at her and said, 'That's unbelievable. It took me 13 years to get to the World Series and it took her 13 days.'" Bob Boone "I am saddened by the news. Tug was a good friend and a good pitcher, but I will always remember him as my great friend. He lived life to the fullest." Larry Christenson "He battled right to the end like he always did. He took it on and was not afraid of the challenge. Not once did I hear him complain. He was one of my best teammates and friends." Dallas Green "I don't think I can pick a favorite from the 1980 team, but he'd rank right up there near the top. He gave his heart and soul not only to me, but to his teammates and the fans. He was very special to me." Brett Myers "I first met Tug when I was in the minor leagues. He was a great guy to be around and he always had fun. He brought a lot of that to me and I'll always remember him for that. My thoughts and prayers are with his family right now. Dan Plesac "This year in spring training, when he spent time to play catch with me every day, was unbelievable for me. I thought it was so cool to play catch with this guy that, when I was 18 years old, I thought walked on water. He was a big reason why the last game at the Vet was so special to me. To be on the field with him, Schmitty, Booney and the other immortals was truly special. My heart goes out to his family and the entire Phillies family." Chris Wheeler "Tug was a fun, inspirational guy who threw the pitch to Willie Wilson that started the party in 1980. He had a unique sense of humor and just loved life. He fought his final battle with the same style and courage that epitomized his career. Tug was an original and we will miss him a lot." Randy Wolf "It's hard to lose anybody, but to lose somebody like Tug is devastating. Losing him is like losing a superhero because he's one of the most charismatic people I've ever met. We've immortalized him and it's a sad reminder that bad things happen to good people."

Born Frank Edwin McGraw on Aug. 30, 1944, in Martinez, Calif. McGraw earned his nickname from his mother for the voracious manner in which he breast-fed. He is survived by a brother, Hank; three sons, Tim, Mark and Matthew; one daughter, Cari, and four grandchildren.

McGraw, wildly popular, saved some of the biggest games in Phillies history and was on the mound when the team won its only World Series in its 121-year history. He also appeared in the World Series for the champion Mets in 1969 and 1973 and has been a special spring training instructor at the request of manager Larry Bowa for Phils the last two years.

In his 20-year career in the major leagues, McGraw was 96-92 with a 3.14 ERA and 180 saves. He pitched for the Mets from 1965 to 1974 and the Phillies from 1975 to 1984, and won a World Series with each team.

But 1980 was the season where McGraw became a Philadelphia sports icon. Always ready with a quip and a laugh, the lighthearted and fun-loving left-handed reliever struck out Willie Wilson to end the 1980 World Series for the club's only championship in its existence.

Still, it wasn't enough for McGraw to win the World Series without a party. The following day, millions of fans turned out for a victory parade down Broad Street to JFK Stadium. Holding a Philadelphia Daily News that carried a "WE WIN!" headline, McGraw spoke to the more than 100,000 Phillies fans that filled the old stadium: "All throughout baseball history, Philadelphia has had to take a back seat to New York. Well, today New York can stick it because today is their day."

Beloved in New York, McGraw came into his own after being traded to Philadelphia. With the Phillies, McGraw was on teams that won NL East titles from 1976-78, the World Series in 1980 and the NL pennant in 1983. The 1981 Phillies also reached postseason play during a strike-shortened season.

Without McGraw, the Phillies never would have won their first World Series in 1980. After coming off the disabled list in July of that season, McGraw allowed just three earned runs the rest of the season and compiled a 0.52 ERA during that span.

He recorded 11 of his 20 saves after July 31 and was 5-0 with five saves during the memorable stretch run in September and October. He got the win in the Phillies' NL East clinching game on Oct. 4, 1980 when he struck out Larry Parrish, then leaped in the air as the Phillies headed for the postseason for the fourth time in five years.

During his nine-year Mets career, McGraw went to two World Series — 1969 and 1973 — winning it all in 1969. He was acquired on Dec. 3, 1974, by general manager Paul Owens, who died Dec. 26, for Del Unser, Mac Scarce and John Stearns. The Phillies also received a pair of outfielders, Don Hahn and Dave Schneck, in the six-player deal.

"We were a young team that was starting to come together, but we didn't believe in ourselves," said long-time teammate Bob Boone. "Tug changed that with his arrival. He brought that 'Ya gotta believe!' attitude."

McGraw always did things with flair. He broke into professional baseball by pitching a no-hitter for the Mets' Cocoa, Fla., minor league team in 1964, and made his Major League debut the following season. Along the way he pitched out of a lot of jams before heading into the clubhouse to fill reporter's notebooks with his quips. When asked if he preferred grass to Astroturf, McGraw said: "I don't know, I never smoked Astroturf."

When asked about his repertoire of pitches, McGraw said his screwball was bread-and-butter pitch but relied heavily on his "Bo Derek" fastball because, "it has a nice little tail, or his "Cutty Sark" fastball because "it sails."

Surely, all of McGraw's quips and stories could fill volumes. Perhaps even more difficult would attempting to find a tavern or a gathering place in the city without Tug's picture above the bar. McGraw was one of those guys in which everyone has a story about.

Better than that, there are thousands of kids that grew watching McGraw pitch who would slap their glove as they walked off the mound in a little league game. "Patting his hand on his heart after a guy hits a home run foul, who would do that in the heat of the battle?" said Phillies manager Larry Bowa, who played with McGraw on the 1980 championship team. "But it showed he had no fear. He was loose. That's how he played the game."

Summer 2003 McGraw spent most of 2003 receiving treatment in Florida and resting at his home in Delaware County. Occasionally, he summoned up the strength to attend several Phillies games, including a dramatic entrance at the final game at Veterans Stadium on Sept. 28.

During the final ceremonies, McGraw rode in from the right-field bullpen in a black limo with tinted windows and reenacted his strike out of Willie Wilson that clinched the '80 World Series.

"It was like blowing out the final candle on the birthday cake," McGraw said then. "I enjoyed the heck out of it."

"Once I got on the mound, it's like I got it all back."

It also brought to life McGraw's old rallying cry that became the Mets' mantra during their run to the World Series: "Ya gotta believe."

Actually, McGraw's quip became a motto for the pitcher's life. "Ya gotta believe!" was not only his slogan when he needed it most — through his nearly yearlong fight with cancer — but during his battles in the late innings, as well.

After McGraw was hospitalized during Spring Training in Clearwater, Fla. — while in his second year as a guest pitching instructor — doctors found two tumors. Surgery was performed and McGraw began an arduous rehabilitation process.

He remained in everyone's thoughts throughout the season. In addition to hanging a green Phillies jersey with McGraw's No. 45 on the back, the Phils were always happy to have Tug around. He showed up at the Vet nearly a dozen times and even made trips to Camden Yards in Baltimore and Shea Stadium in New York.

On May 29, McGraw made his first appearance at the Vet where he detailed his fight against cancer as well as his initial diagnosis in which he was given just three weeks to live.

"I guess that three weeks thing didn't work out," McGraw said last May. "I'm going to live for a long time."

He also revealed how he found out something was wrong during spring training. McGraw's friend John McManus was visiting him in Clearwater from Philadelphia when McGraw told him that he felt like there was something wrong. He says he didn't feel very well while having dinner with a group of friends and even showed up at Jack Russell Stadium to work on a day off. Later, McManus found him acting oddly and took him to the hospital.

"I was just standing in the kitchen just relieving myself. [McManus] came in and said, 'What the heck is going on, '" McGraw revealed. "He and a bunch of friends picked me up and took me to the hospital. That was stage one of saving my life. Stage two was when (son) Tim and (daughter-in-law) Faith (Hill) got me into the Moffet Center in Tampa. They did some quick research and found out the Moffet was very good. When I got there the whole neuro-oncology team was there."

	Tug McGraw reenacts the last pitch of the 1980 World Series during the closing ceremonies at Veterans Stadium last September. (AP)

On July 3, in his first appearance back in his old stomping grounds since he had life-saving surgery to remove a cancerous brain tumor, Tug and his seven-year-old son Matthew rode through the field in a golf cart to right field, where they changed the "Vet Countdown" tote board from 39 to 38. But the second McGraw poked his head out from the tunnel behind home plate, the crowd stood and cheered and didn't let up until the inspirational leader of all those great Phillie teams had left the building.

"By the time I jerked that number off there and stuck the other one on, I felt like I was cancer-free," McGraw said then.

As McGraw and his son made the ride out to right field, Jim Thome leapt out of the dugout to the top step and summoned his teammates to come out with him.

"Tonight is about as good as it gets when you're retired," McGraw said.

Along the way, McGraw appeared on the Today show, as well as a fundraiser for the Moffett Center in Tampa. His last public appearance came just three weeks ago when he received the Hope and Courage Award from the Greater Philadelphia Chapter of The ALS Association.

McGraw was a 1962 graduate of St. Vincent Ferrer High School in Vallejo, Calif. He attended Vallejo Junior College before he was signed by the New York Mets in 1964. He is the author of two autobiographies (Screwball and Ya Gotta Believe!), a children's book called Lumpy: A Baseball Fable, as well as a comic strip called Scroogie.

Additionally, he worked for WPVI as a reporter, appeared in Ken Burns' documentary Baseball and a TV commercial with his son Tim.

Funeral arrangements are pending.

E-mail John R. Finger

One last ode to The Vet

John R. Finger ComcastSportsNet.com

For those of us who grew up going to the Vet and had dreams of one day playing for the Phillies on that endless sheet of green carpet, Sunday's last game was a very bittersweet day. On one side, we recognize that a modern ballclub cannot continue to operate with that place as its home ballpark. It's worn down and obsolete with all the charm and personality of a toilet seat. The second one walks through its gates, the closed in feeling and imagery of a dungeon pervades the atmosphere. Being in the Vet is like that trash compactor scene from Star Wars. Any second now, and the walls are going to flatten you like a pancake on top of Chewbacca.

But the Vet is our dump. It's where we wanted to play if we ever became big leaguers. It was a schoolboy point of reference, as in: "He hit it so far, I bet it woulda gone out of the Vet!"

More than the Liberty Bell, or Independence Hall, or the Art Museum steps, Veterans Stadium was Philadelphia. Like us it was imperfect, was too big and clumsy, and needed to get with the times.

Heck, the Vet was the place no corporation ever wanted to buy the naming rights for. There is something very admirable in a place like that.

OK. Here it comes. I'm going to inject that dreaded personal pronoun and write gush about how the Vet is my kind of place. You know, the kind of place where a guy, after a $5 beer bender, can buy salty, stale pretzels in brown paper bags out of a shopping cart in the parking lot after a ballgame for a buck.

Talk about a good deal.

You see, I'm not like Billy Crystal. Although I do have that romantic, NPR, baseball-as-a-metaphor-for-life buried deep in the locus of my mind, I only bring it out when I'm watching The Natural or Field of Dreams… alone. Maybe that's because I've seen the real side of baseball and know that the romanticized view doesn't exist except for on Old-Timers Day or in Cooperstown. Baseball is curse words, a hot grounder that misses a glove and turns the shin purple, spitting and an obstructed-view, upper-deck seat next to a drunk who just spilled another beer on your shoes...

At the Vet.

No, unlike the way Billy Crystal describes his first game in every interview he's ever done about the subject, I don't remember holding my dad's hand, walking through a tunnel and seeing a sea of green at my first game. Mickey didn't "hit one out" and the Yankees didn't win.

I'm not like John Updike either, although we both come from the same part of the country. Updike wrote that magnificent ode to Ted Williams where he described Fenway Park as that "little lyric of a ballpark" with its idiosyncratic dimensions, high wall in left and acre of green grass, walls and seats. Unlike Shillington, Pa.'s most famous native son, I didn't spend my college days contemplating the asymmetry and greenness while watching Teddy Ballgame or Yaz.

I'm not like Bob Costas or Mike Lupica. I don't have Mickey Mantle baseball cards nor have I indignantly purchased bleacher seats for poor kids in the Bronx. Unlike Costas or Lupica, I don't know how, or even want to make the game better because like the Voice of Summer, Harry Kalas, says, "It's such a beautiful game."

No, for people my age who grew around here, we were robbed of that saccharine-sweet romanticism Billy Crystal, John Updike and Bob Costas all possess. It's as if we truly can't be a real baseball fans because we didn't experience baseball as a child like they did. At my first game on a summer night in 1976, I didn't walk through the tunnel at a baseball cathedral to a scene so green that it could burn my eyes out.

That's because my first game was at the Vet.

Yep, old Veterans Stadium… it opened the same year I was born and if it were a person, it would have graduated high school the same year I did. It would have gone off to college at the same time too, although it probably would have graduated before me. We would have played little league together, watched the same TV shows and grown up experiencing issues like school busing, the energy crisis, Jimmy Carter, the Iran Hostage Crisis and Ronald Reagan. We would have been teenagers when the Space Shuttle blew up and when Buckner missed the ball. We could speak the same language, hold the same values and have the same status in life.

And we would always ask each other where we were when Tug threw that last pitch. Weren't we so lucky that our parents let us stay up to watch the very end? Wasn't it so cool watching them dump champagne all over each other?

And man, didn't Mitch jump so high after striking out Bill Pecota? It looked like they were going to trample him when the whole team rushed to the mound.

If a private group owned the stadium instead of the city of Philadelphia, it would have been condemned a long time ago. Feral cats now own the place, having long ago taken over after a brief turf war with the rats. In the summertime, the biggest moths seen outside of the Everglades fly in and out of the lights and shadows like a dizzy kid who has been spinning around in circles for five minutes straight. Then there is what attracts these creatures: cracks in the walls, exposed pipes on the ceiling with what one can only assume could be equal parts rust and asbestos clinging like a lemming to a cliff.

There are cob and spider webs the size of batting cage nets in every corner and dripping water every where — on the floor of the bathrooms, corridors and dugouts. Why would anyone want to come here for 81 games every season? It is, as Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie unceremoniously tagged it in arrogant and snobby derision, a "dump."

But it's our dump, right?

"This isn't a grass field like Fenway Park or Wrigley Field or Yankees Stadium that they are never going to tear down because of the memories." Mike Schmidt said on Saturday. "[The media] is trying to make it like we should be crying because they are going to tear down the Vet. It must not have that much significance if they are going to blow it up.

"We all leave with our memories. But I think we all agree that we need to take our memories and get the hell out of here."

The Vet.

	Veterans Stadium during its implosion. (AP)

It's where Gary Maddox ran like a gazelle to flag down a fly to center as smooth as silk. It's where the Bull hit one so hard off the wall in left that he could only get a single out of it. It's where Schmidty dug into the box, tapped the outer edge of the plate and did his little wiggle. In the field he'd charge a chopper as quickly as cat leaping out of a car before he caught it with his bare hand.

It's where Bowa, with the bill of his cap always pointing in the air, made his heavy, three-quarter armed throws to first. It's where his emotions were never held in check and the word "scrappy" came to life. It's where Manny Trillo made every play and Bake McBride's hair burst from underneath his cap like bread baking in an oven over its crock.

Tug slapped his glove against his thigh here. Lefty, with his high leg-kick, made the slider the nastiest pitch ever known to man here. Trying to hit it was like trying to eat soup with chopsticks, Willie Stargell said.

Everyone complained about the turf. The fans, players, announcers, coaches, owners and Wendell Davis hated it. In fact, Dick Allen said: "If a horse can't eat it, I don't want to play on it."

But the turf was pretty cool, too. Remember how Pete Rose would spike the ball high off the turf after the third out? Or that zamboni that would clear the water from the outfield after it rained?

Remember how the place used to look? How about those two scoreboards beyond the outfield fence? And that fountain in center? It looked like Caesar's Palace.

Remember how strikingly colorful the place was? How the green turf and green walls against the Crayola-perfect brown dirt in the cut outs where the bases were perfect? A deep red warning track and a bicentennial mural beyond the outfield fence and red, white and blue bunting hung on the facades were so beautiful that there really was no other place to be. It was like an Easter egg come to life.

Remember how excited you'd get as kid driving in for a game? The second you caught a glimpse of the lights your heart would beat faster. Then, just before coming over the bridge, there it was. Gigantic. With those swirling ramps and enormous statues out front — the football player kicking and the baseball player sliding. Remember how you couldn't wait to get out of the car as soon as you knew you were near? And when you finally got out of the car, remember how it took all of your power and patience not to sprint to the turnstile?

Maybe once you got inside you see something amazing like Terry Mulholland's no-no. Or Mitch's game-winning hit at 4:40 a.m. Or Schmidty hit one out. Or Willie Stargell hit one to the 600-level.

Well," said Jim Bunning, who served up the pitch to Stargell, "he could not have hit it any farther."

For the lucky who got to go to the Vet everyday during the last few summers, there are enough memories to fill volumes. Watching Scott Rolen sprint out to third before the start of a game — elbows flying, legs churning like pistons — screamed baseball. His throws to second for a force out were hard poetry.

We saw Bowa become an extension of the fan's frustration. He represented everything every fan ever wanted to scream at an authority figure, but somehow he still had the decorum to emphatically throw his gum away lest he spit it in an umpire's face mid rant.

At the Vet we got to see Harry Kalas modestly enjoy his celebrity, where he earnestly made sure he gave every fan what they wanted.

Long drive, watch that baby... outta here!

We saw the old-timers happily return for a reunion and heard the Phanatic speak in his own voice along the corridors as if it were perfectly normal to wear a big green suit.

And we saw everyone rally together in that first game back after Sept. 11. When Rolen hit two out, we all got to think about something as trival as a pennant race for a little while.

We really laid out the welcome for old friends: D-sized batteries for J.D. Drew. Obnoxious boos for turncoat Rolen. Ambivalence for Schill. Screeches for Krukker and the Dude. And just in case, the K-9 corps and the mounted patrol to keep everyone off the green rug and in the blue seats.

Cal Ripken won his only World Series at the Vet. So did the Phillies.

And on Sunday we saw Schmidty pass the torch to Jim Thome, who will take it across the parking lot to a "ballpark" with real grass, luxury seating and a corporate name. It will have everything anyone could ever want in order to watch baseball, where, hopefully, we'll all scream, "THO-ME! THO-ME! THO-ME!" instead of "BOO!" It will be better than Caesar's Palace. Clean and shiny.

But we will always think fondly of our dump.

E-mail John R. Finger

Season-long Skid Has Schmidt Feeling Burrell's Pain

In his 18-year major-league career, Mike Schmidt won three MVP awards and one World Series MVP award. He hit 548 home runs to lead the National League eight times. He also drove in 1,595 runs, which led the league in RBIs four times. Only eight players in the history of the game hit more homers than Schmidt, which means that he might know a little something about hitting.

He should. He's certainly the best player the Phillies ever had.

But Mike Schmidt knows a lot about failure too. In 1973, Schmidt's first full season as a big leaguer, he hit just .196 and struck out 136 times in 132 games. In 1975, he whiffed 180 times, which at the time was the third-highest single-season total ever.

Only four players in the history of the game struck out more than Schmidt. In fact, he whiffed no fewer than 103 times in 12 of his first 13 seasons. If there hadn't been a labor stoppage in 1981, it would have been 13 for 13.

So yes, Schmidt knows a lot about failure.

He also knows a lot about what Pat Burrell is going through this season.

"I'm the only guy on the face of the earth right now that can feel his pain. I'm the only guy. Just from my career. I'm the only guy on the face of the earth that could hit the ball into the upper deck, and at the same time have played in a Philadelphia uniform, been booed till I can't stand it anymore, go on the field with anxiety kicking so hard that I can't control my sense of how to hit, and I wanna go out there and swing before [the pitcher] lets it go," said Schmidt, who was in town for the 1980s tribute. "I want to hit a 5-run home run with nobody on base. You lose it. There isn't a guy in here that can feel the pain that he feels right now.

"[Greg Gross] is his hitting coach, but he can't feel his pain. I'm the one that can help him from a psychological standpoint. I can lay on a couch next to him and say, 'Pat, I feel your pain. I've been there.'"

Burrell, as it has been well documented, has labored through a very difficult season. Following Sunday's 0-for-4 in 5-0 victory against the Boston Red Sox at the Vet, Burrell's batting average dipped to .202. In 67 games and 247 at-bats, Burrell has struck out 79 times. That comes to a staggering statistic: Burrell has struck out in 28 percent of his plate appearances. Toss in other variables and the would-be slugger has failed to hit a fair ball in 41 percent of his plate appearances.

Not at-bats, folks. That's plate appearances.

Schmidt, a part-time hitting instructor who last visited the team in Atlanta in April, says he looked over film with Burrell. At the time, Schmidt said Burrell was jumping at the ball a little bit and thinking "home run" too much.

Yet because of Burrell's struggles, manager Larry Bowa has moved the 26-year-old up and down in the lineup and benched him on occasion. Burrell has just one home run and three RBIs this month and just two home runs and four RBIs since May 20. It's gotten to the point, Schmidt elluded, that pitchers are waiting to face him instead of any other hitter in the lineup.

"You've got to want to be a clutch hitter," Schmidt said. "You don't want to be a dangerous hitter. You can be a dangerous hitter your entire career and make a lot of money. I was that guy a lot of times in my career."

Still, there are always glimmers of hope. Typically batting fourth or fifth in the lineup, which is not all that uncommon for a player who signed a six-year, $50 million deal before heading to spring training, Burrell went a promising 5-for-12 with two key doubles in three games against the Braves at the Vet. But against the Red Sox, the big-swinging right-hander went 0-for-8 with two more whiffs to slowly bring back the boo-birds.

So what's wrong with him? How can a player go from a breakout 37-home run, 116-RBI season in which he hit .286 to one where he still has to struggle to keep his average above the Mendoza line? More remarkably, Burrell is floundering despite the fact that he was given more support in the lineup with the addition of Jim Thome.

"His swing is a little too big. He jumps out. He doesn't let himself get deep," Schmidt explained. "He has a tendency to loop and try to pull, and that's an adrenaline thing. You jump out at the ball. A lot of time you see Pat's body will explode toward the pitcher based upon the motion, rather than reading the ball. You add in the anxiety, the booing."

Schmidt knows about the booing. Even when he was winning the MVP awards and smacking 40 homers a season, Schmidt heard the boos and he hated it. However, he did not have the pedigree Burrell had upon joining the Phillies. When Schmidt went through that difficult season in '73, he was still trying to figure out how to become a big leaguer, and because of those travails and the learning process that went along with it, Schmidt became a Hall of Famer.

Burrell, unlike Schmidt, has never struggled. At every level he's played, Burrell has been one of the best. Because of that, this rough '03 campaign has been extra agonizing because Burrell just can't shake the rough patches.

"I surely didn't have the 37-homer season under my belt, or the College MVP or No. 1 draft choice or greatest player in college history on my resume. I went through the minor leagues and couldn't even hit there, and the next thing you know, I was in a major-league uniform," Schmidt said.

"I changed, changed, changed my swing. I asked myself over and over, 'How am I going to be better?' I was always willing to try to do something new. I was always willing to do something. If Nolan Ryan was pitching, I'd go up there with a two-strike approach from the first pitch, shorten my stroke, choke up, and sometimes I'd still hit homers. I'd do that today against Pedro. I truly believe every day offers you a chance to put a different game plan out there, and I don't think the generation now is as cerebral. I truly think it's a lost art today with all the gladiator guys playing."

Although he hasn't seen Burrell play in person since the beginning of the year, Schmidt says it's obvious that Burrell has not made any adjustments. There were times, Schmidt says, when he tore his batting approach down completely and rebuilt it from scratch. Burrell doesn't have to go to that extreme, Schmidt says, but he does have to make some changes. Adjustments are, after all, the crux of the game.

"Right now I don't think he has a lifeline. When I feel that big long uppercut swing and I'm not letting the ball get deep, I know what to do now. He doesn't have that. He needs to adjust. I don't know that Pat understands that adjustments need to be made," Schmidt said. "There are players in the Hall of Fame that made adjustments throughout their career. I look at great players who have changed stances; have changed from standing tall to crouching down; changed from going to the plate to deep in the box; changed from opened stances to closed stances; from up over the knob to choked up. To this point, my perception is Pat hasn't been willing to make any adjustments. He gives me the impression that he feels like it's going to come. Today is going to be the change. He's entitled, as a player, to say that's the way he feels. [But] there will come a time — maybe — where he'll say, 'I can't figure it out. I want to make some changes,' and he goes to [hitting coach] Greg Gross, and they'll do something."

Schmidt is quick to point out that he is not the hitting coach and he doesn't want to step on Gross' toes. When Burrell has a problem, he should go and listen to Gross, who Schmidt says, is an outstanding hitting coach.

"[Gross] is a tremendous hitting coach, and from the psychological side of where he's at right now when he goes out on the field, we're telling him the same thing," Schmidt reasoned. "Greg is with him every day. I'm not. They work every day."

But if Burrell ever wants to talk to someone who was a big slugger with tons of strikeouts and lots of homers, Schmidt is always ready to talk.

But Schmidt is not going to be the one to take the first step. He does not want to overstep his bounds, nor does he want to be presumptuous in thinking that Burrell wants Mike Schmidt to help him. But if Mike Schmidt knew there was a Mike Schmidt there for him, Mike Schmidt would call Mike Schmidt.

Get it?

"I always like to make the analogy of golf. If I was a young golfer and I was struggling with my game, but I was teetering on having the ability to play on the PGA Tour, and Jack Nicklaus and I practiced on the same range every day, I would say, 'Jack, what do I need to do?'" Schmidt explained. "I would take every advantage I could to gain the power of input. Then it would be simple for me to block out that other guy [offering hitting tips] and the other guy if Nicklaus was there."

At the same time, Schmidt says he would watch and take pointers from other players. When Schmidt was playing, he borrowed from Steve Garvey and Roberto Clemente. And though he was a more feared hitter, Schmidt wanted to be like Greg Luzinski, who had the ability to hit a booming homer and loop a bleeder over the infield in a clutch spot.

"I used to say, 'Garvey can do it, why can't I do it? Clemente used to do it, why can't I do it? I have the same amount of ability,'" Schmidt said. "They were doing something different than I was in certain situations. Pat should be looking around and saying, 'What's A-Rod doing?' Why is his stroke so good?' I always was jealous about hitters. But that's me. Whether it's drive or not, I don't know. But I always wanted to be better than I was today. If I had two strikes, I would spread out like Albert Pujols. He's only hitting .380."

Doing something like that would cut down on all of those strikeouts, Schmidt says. And by cutting down on the strikeouts, Schmidt says if Burrell can do that, things will change.

"If you cut his strikeouts in half right now, he puts the ball in play 40 more times and he'd probably have six more home runs, 10 to 15 more hits and that translates into .250 with some production, versus where he is now," Schmidt said. "And that's very easy for us, guys like us, me, the media, fans, to look at and say that's easy to do, but it's not for a guy who all his life has been able to drive the ball, been able to have a big swing and be reasonably successful. You add in the frustration and the fact that he's got a lot of guys around him in the lineup who aren't picking him up for part of the year. So that puts more added pressure on him because he leaves a lot of guys on base and strikes out a lot in key situations."

And if the Phillies weren't struggling so much as a team, Burrell's troubles wouldn't be so magnified.

"You can put Pat Burrell right now in the middle of the Braves' batting order and he would probably go unnoticed," Schmidt surmised. "Everybody would say, 'Wait until he gets hot.'"

So what does Burrell think of all of this?

"Obviously, if a guy is going to spend time with you, especially a guy who is in the Hall of Fame, you're going to listen to him," Burrell told reporters. "Right now, it's been a tough time for me period. I'm just not swinging the bat good, and that's been a fact all year. There's been a lot of people trying to help, and it finally got to the point where I said I gotta figure this out on my own.

"Obviously, I have so much respect for Mike and I have talked to him tons. I don't understand what this is all about. Obviously, this guy has done a lot of things in this game that I'm trying to do."

Still, all hope is not lost. Schmidt says Burrell will turn it around and it will come quickly. However,

"He can be straightened out quickly, but he has to want it," Schmidt said. "He has to be willing to go in another direction."

Once he sets his course, look out.

"When he comes out of what he's going through now, hopefully he puts a hot a month together and gets back on track," Schmidt said. "Obviously, with a start like this, he's not going to be come back and hit 60 or 55 [homers] and drive in 140, and we all think he's that kind of player. But when he gets rolling, he'll cover a lot of ground in two months. When that happens, he'll always remember this period that he went through and he'll have figured out what it was that got him out of it."

Who knows, maybe he'll follow a similar course that another Phillie with a big, looping swing forged 30 years ago.

E-mail John R. Finger

While Phillies Struggle, Rolen Having Banner Season

NEW YORK — His chin had a big brush burn, the kind kids get when they skin their knees playing football or falling off a bike onto the macadam. His forehead had some nicks and cuts and a welt that looked like a sloppy swipe of a paintbrush. None of these bruises explained the elaborate ice bag wrapped in a towel around his neck, which he unwrapped as if he were some incomplete mummy before heading to the training room for what seemed like some much-needed treatment.

Still, Scott Rolen couldn't stop smiling.

"I went head first in Boston the other night," he laughed while in the visitor's clubhouse at Yankee Stadium before his Cardinals lost to the Yankees on Saturday. "I smacked my face and my feet went over my head and flipped me over.

Rolen was describing his attempt to score against the Red Sox two days earlier.

"You should have seen it," he said.

About the only thing baseball fans in Philadelphia have seen relating to their prodigal son these days is the prodigious ink he's littered the box scores with. A 2-for-4 with a couple of RBIs following the entry "Rolen, 3b" isn't an uncommon sight these days. Neither are the highlight reel plays and web gems he's made look so routine at third base. Remember all of those plays? A dive to the left in the hole. A backhand stab of a short hop and a rifle throw to beat the runner at second. A deft snag of a liner bullet-bound to the corner. They used to be a normal occurrence on the Vet NeXturf through the summer months not so long ago.

But that circus has set up its tent in another city.

Now here's the part that Philly sports fans don't want to hear: Rolen is the same as he was when he was a Phillie but better. Everything, from his skills on the field to his demeanor in the clubhouse, is more enhanced. His dry wit is more engaging and matched by the courteous desire to chat. Always an entertainer to the scribes, Rolen spoke quietly and engaged his questioner with a look that made one feel as if he were doing a one-on-one interview, even when there was a pack of reporters around. It was if he were the smartest and politest kid in the class but was unsure of himself and never raised his hand.

That was then.

These days Rolen is animated. Always quick with a joke wrapped in his "boy-from-Jasper-aw-shucks" disposition, Rolen is more apt to embrace his teammates, club officials and writers. Rolen not only carries the gait of a person who suddenly has had the weight of the world lifted from his coat-rack shoulders but also seems as if he's finally comfortable in his own skin.

The real Scott Rolen has arrived.

"He's better now than he's ever been, and he's the best defensive third baseman I've ever seen. And I saw Schmidt and Brooks Robinson," an American League scout said at Yankee Stadium on Saturday. "Not only is he better, but he obviously has much a much better team around him. He can just show up and go to work without worrying about being the center of everyone's attention.

"In Philadelphia he was only going to be a good player. In St. Louis he's going to be a star."

It's in St. Louis, where Rolen went to catch games as a kid (he went to games in Cincinnati too) that he has come into his own. Sure, he's done well on the field since the trade, smacking 26 homers and driving in 95 while hitting .288 in 122 games heading into Monday's action, but it's off the field where he has found his footing.

Rolen still makes his home in Florida but stays close to his roots in Jasper, Ind. He has launched his Enis Furley Foundation and Camp Emma Lou on Lake Monroe near Bloomington where children and their families with special needs can spend time together. The camp's motto is, "Live, Love, Laugh� and don't burn your marshmallow!"

That could easily be Rolen's motto as well. While certainly not the cause of the Phillies' backward step in 2002, Rolen and his contract situation was an admitted distraction. It was plain to see that Rolen's marshmallow was charred in Philly. The smile that resides on his face these days, despite the stiff neck that might force him to miss a game or two this week, was no where to be found last year at this time. In fact, the team's clubhouse was as tense as a waiting room of a root-canal clinic.

Last August, Mike Schmidt hit the nail on the head when talking about Rolen and his relationship with Philly.

"In Philadelphia, he was never able to free up enough to enjoy playing the game," Schmidt said then. "He's wound tight like I am. You try and please everybody and you end up not having fun. You are the focal guy and there's always an issue. It drives you crazy. A new environment where he's not the focal point, he's going to blend in. That's what he is looking for, to be left alone and play the game. He has a better chance to reach his potential in that environment [in St. Louis] than he did over here."

Watching Rolen on Saturday made one wonder who that old guy was. Criticized by blathering talk-show types for not showing enough emotion and carrying a cool attitude toward the fans like Schmidt, that old Rolen is long gone.

"This is where I belong," he said. "I learned a lot in Philadelphia, and I'm thankful for the time that I spent there, but it's different here. I don't take bitterness with me at all. If I didn't have that experience, I don't think I'd be as complete "

There is also a nurturing atmosphere in St. Louis that wasn't available in Philadelphia. Although both men are old-school baseball men, Cardinals manager Tony La Russa and Phils manager Larry Bowa are as different as night and day. As a Phillie, Rolen and Bowa often clashed and had two well-publicized blowups in Tampa in 2001 and Clearwater in 2002. Sensitivity training to Bowa is using a player's proper name while showing disgust for a misdeed.

La Russa is equally intense, but he has a better rapport with his players. Part of that might be because he is a multi-lingual attorney who is an animal-rights advocate. For Rolen, who speaks of his dogs Enis and Emma as if they are his sired children, La Russa's interest in such causes must impress the third baseman.

Rolen certainly is a fan favorite too. On June 1, thousands lined up early at Busch Stadium before a game against the Pirates to receive a Scott Rolen bobblehead doll. Apparently, as many as eight busloads of fans made the three-hour trip from Jasper, Ind. to get a memento of their hometown boy and watch him play.

They might have seen his best game as a Cardinal. Rolen reached base three times, including a key double in the third inning. He also drew an important walk in the seventh to lead a decisive two-run surge. But he saved the best for last.

With two outs in the ninth, and the Cardinals clinging to a precarious one-run lead, Rolen leaped high to snag Reggie Sanders' sizzling extra-base bid, a backhand catch that ended the game.

The crowd, of course, forced a post-game curtain call, just like it did when he hit a grand slam to cap off a 4-for-5 win over the Orioles last Sunday. And the three-run shot he hit with two outs in the ninth to beat the Cubs on May 23. These days, Rolen has made enough curtain calls in Busch Stadium to make even Pavarotti blush, but it was something Rolen spurned in Philly. Not that it matters anymore. Rolen is exactly where he wants to be.

"I'm in a place where I'm really happy," he said. "I always said that a happy ballplayer is a good ballplayer, and I feel pretty good."

He ought to. Usually pegged into manager Tony LaRussa's lineup behind Jim Edmonds and Albert Pujols ("He's the best player I've ever managed," LaRussa said of Pujols in New York.), Rolen is eighth in the National League with 51 RBIs, which sets him on a pace for 125.

Of course it doesn't hurt that Rolen's numbers are as good as anyone in the National League. In fact, if he weren't on the same team as Pujols and Edmonds, who are one-two in batting in the league, Rolen could be the leading candidate for the league's MVP award.

Sorry folks, he's been that good.

Rolen's good fortune comes as his former team is beginning its slow spiral down the commode. Full of promise after the acquisitions of David Bell, Kevin Millwood and Jim Thome, the Phillies could most definitely use Rolen's bat, if not his goldglove at third base. At the end of play on Sunday, Rolen is hitting .293 with 12 homers and 51 RBIs. But those numbers don't fully explain how good he's been. With runners in scoring position, Rolen is hitting .344 and has reached base in 56 of the Cardinals' 66 games.

At the same time, his fifth gold glove for his work at third base is all but a given, and his team will be right there when the pennant race heats up.

Nevertheless, Philadelphia is not fully in Rolen's rear-view mirror. He made a lot of friends during his seven years as a Phillie and still chats with some of his old teammates. Dan Plesac calls now and then. Randy Wolf's brother Jim, a big-league umpire, passes along messages. Then there's Jim Thome, whom Rolen was essentially traded for. According to Rolen, the pair talks regularly about baseball.

Interestingly, Rolen says he's asked frequently about whether he'd made a mistake in leaving Philadelphia since the Phils have added Thome.

"If I would have stayed there, there was no way they would have gotten Thome," Rolen said. "They might have been able to get Millwood, but there's no way they would have been able to have Thome and me on the same team."

Yeah, but Rolen and Pujols, Edmonds, Edgar Renteria and Tino Martinez on the same team?

If Rolen isn't in heaven, St. Louis might be the next best place.

E-mail John R. Finger

Phils' Wolf Searching for the One That Got Away

NEW YORK — You know that commercial where two young, hip-looking 20-somethings angrily bump into each other on a subway platform and then realize, as they catch a glimpse of each other that true love may have just walked onto the No. 7 train? The ad ends with the sultry young woman writing her phone number on the fogged up window of the train... it's a gum commercial or something.

Anyway, something like that kind of happened to Randy Wolf at Grand Central Station before Thursday afternoon's game at Shea Stadium, but with one big catch — the lefty didn't get the number and now he needs some help.

Here's what happened:

On his way to Shea Stadium, Wolf met a woman he knows only as Liz at the Grand Central Station terminal as he was heading to the subway. It seems as if Liz was lost and confused about how to get to Times Square, so Wolf — despite being a Californian, but being a friendly guy — gave her a hand.

Along the way, Liz and Randy struck up a conversation before each hopped on trains heading in opposite directions.

If only he had acted sooner.

Ah, but there is still a chance for Cupid's arrow to deliver its intent. So smitten was Wolf that he could describe Liz's outfit from head to toe — brown suede bell bottoms and a black coat, with brown hair and brown eyes — and he wants to get the word out that he wants to meet her again. In fact, he was even considering taking out an ad in one of the New York papers.

So, if young Liz is out there and is interested in meeting up with that helpful 6-foot, 180-pound gentleman she met on the train on Thursday who enjoys movies, music, the beach and recently signed a four-year, $22 million contract, she should contact Randy through the Phillies public relations department at pubrel@phillies.com.

E-mail John R. Finger

This Time Jordan Really is Finished

Michael Jordan spent Wednesday afternoon playing 18 at Pine Valley, so by the time the fourth quarter rolled around he was pretty tired and content to watch his career wind down from the Wizards' bench. Tight and tired from a long NBA season and a round at one of the toughest golf courses in America, Jordan stretched out like an old man sitting on rocking chair on the front porch watching the world go by.

Nevertheless, no one in Philadelphia cared about his contentment. They wanted to say goodbye.

But gods don't answer letters... or do they?

"I said, 'Michael, I played here, I've at least got to be able to come back to this city. You have to go in,'" Wizards coach Doug Collins said. "He was so stiff and I said, 'Go in for a minute or whatever, let it get the ovation, whatever.'"

Jordan took his victory lap, got fouled and made his last two foul shots as flashbulbs lit up the First Union Center. Then, he exited the NBA forever.

And it is forever.

"Yeah, I just kind of got that feeling. Now I guess it hits me that I am not going to be in a uniform anymore, and that's not a terrible feeling," His Airness said. "It's not terrible. It's something that I have come to grips with and it's time. It's time. I have seen a lot of people say, 'My first time.' My second time.' This is the final retirement. You don't have to worry about me putting on another uniform, and I feel it. I feel it. I welcome the time away from the game."

The itch, as he once said, has been scratched.

And why not? The greatest player who ever lived deserves to stage as many comebacks as he likes. If he wants to play for the Lakers two years from now when he's 42, good for him. If he is going to keep playing, we're going to keep watching.

But this is it. After Wednesday night's regular-season finale in the First Union Center this fact was obvious. No, his skills haven't eroded that much — he's still the best player on his team and is typically one of the best players on the floor night-in and night-out. His jumper is still smooth and his release is lightning quick. He still has the imagination to make passes that most players can't see and make the moves to penetrate to the hoop.

Nor did he say he was "99.9 percent sure" this retirement was certain. He didn't have to. His body language told the story.

No, he doesn't looked like a tired old man, he just looks tired, period. Kind of like a guy who works 12 hours a day, six days a week with no support or feedback from his boss. He knows if he wants something done, he's going to have to do it himself without much help from anyone else. That will make anyone tired, even if he is Superman.

A surgically repaired knee, coupled with a long NBA season and teammates who don't play like they care will wear on the best of them. After all, it's not like he's passing it to Scottie Pippen, John Paxson or even Steve Kerr anymore. He has to go to war with Kwane Brown who played Wednesday night's game on autopilot, and Jerry Stackhouse and Larry Hughes who are only concerned about Jerry Stackhouse and Larry Hughes. Who needs that?

Yeah, it's easy to see why now is the time to get out. It's much different than it was when he won all those championships in Chicago.

"Everybody understood that winning attitude, everybody understood the dedication that it took to give up parts of yourself. I am trying to get these kids to understand that now, where you have to give up some of that selfishness, so that everybody else can showcase and bond and everybody shines. That's tough for some people," Jordan said. "I was taught that in North Carolina, obviously. Once I got into the pros and everything was thrown at me so fast, it was tough for me to become unselfish in some respects and let Scottie Pippen and Bill Cartwright and some of these guys step to the forefront and gain some of that notoriety."

But the biggest reason why this is it is because he's flat-out tired. Physically tired. Bone-weary tired. He has nothing more to give and nothing more to take. He has the championships, the MVPs and gold medals. The only thing left was a love for the game. That is the reason why he came back and it is the reason he stayed as long as he did with the Wizards.

"There's nothing else [he would] rather do. I think that really sums him up more than anything else," Collins said. "We can take out all the adjectives and everything but I think you can make it very simple: [He] loves to play the game and [would] love to play it everyday if he could."

Now when he plays it will be against his sons, whom he says are basketball fanatics. He'll spend more time playing golf at places like Pine Valley and hanging out with his friends Tiger and Charles and enjoying a good cigar. He won't have a plane to catch so he'll be able to take his time at home and be a father and husband. And oh yeah, there's a basketball team to run if he wants.

However, he'll never get over his first love. The one with a passion so hot that people couldn't take their eyes off him. Jordan has probably been on TV more than any president going back to Ronald Reagan. His posters and jump-man silhouette are in more homes than General Electric. People want to be close to him just because he loved something a whole lot.

"I never knew where my ending was going to be, but I once said that I won't be playing at the age of 40. Well, here I am, playing at the age of 40," he said. "It's like trying to determine how long you are going to love a person. Love is a very delicate thing; once you love it, you never lose the love for the game, you never know when you can walk away from it. And I tried a couple of times, obviously, for different reasons. But I've come to grips now, that as much as I love the game, there are other components that need my love, my attention, and I can easily walk away."

But before he sails off into the sunset, and we get to watch him dash up and down the court one last time, we think about what he meant to us. Not just the fans that buy the sneakers, the shirts and the very expensive tickets, but the regular people who are thrilled just to be in the same building as him and stare at his chiseled physique and scream when he walks by. How can we, the mortals, articulate that?

Those of us who remember him as a college freshman sinking that shot against Georgetown in the 1982 NCAA Finals or the guy who took off from the foul line and actually flew in the air, when we were just school kids, thought he was Superman. Later, when we had grown up a bit and saw him score 36 in the NBA Finals stricken with the flu and then hold that follow through after sinking the game-winning shot to win another title the last time he retired, we knew he was otherworldly.

We just don't know how to tell him thanks.

"I remember my dad talking about Lou Gehrig and Babe Ruth, and I remember how in love with Jackie Robinson I became growing up in Brooklyn," Sixers coach Larry Brown said. "I even walked like him, and then my son got to see Michael and spend time with him, and he's going to be able to say the same thing I said about Jackie.

"Hopefully, our league will do what they did with Gretzky and Jackie Robinson and every time you walk into an arena, you will see No. 23 and everybody will realize what an impact he had on our sport."

Said Allen Iverson: "He was a guy that gave me the vision, made me want to play basketball. If I never saw Michael Jordan play a basketball game, then [I] might not ever be in the NBA. He's meant everything to me and he has meant everything to all the rest of the guys in the league and he's meant a lot to you all as well."

So how would Jordan like to be remembered?

"Just as a guy who loved the game," he said. "You can see the past, determination, and just the way that I played the game. I never, never took the game for granted. I was very true to the game and the game was very true to me. It was just that simple."

Maybe two words are the best way for him to be remembered:

The Greatest.

E-mail John R. Finger

'I've Died and Gone to Heaven... ' Phillies Deal 'Excited' Scott Rolen to St. Louis

After months of speculation, tons of rumors and lots of innuendo, the Phillies have finally traded Scott Rolen. Once viewed as the rightful heir to Mike Schmidt's throne at third base and as the cornerstone of a franchise on the way up, Rolen left town after an acrimonious season-and-a-half where the luster was chipped away from the city's one-time golden boy. And Rolen, as stated in an interview with ESPN.com's Peter Gammons, could not be happier about the trade.

"I felt," he said to Gammons upon hearing the news about the trade on Monday night, "as if I'd died and gone to heaven. I'm so excited that I can't wait to get on the plane (Tuesday morning) and get to Florida to join the Cardinals."

For Rolen, Triple-A reliever Doug Nickle and an undisclosed amount of cash, the Phillies have obtained infielder Placido Polanco, lefthanded pitcher Bud Smith and reliever Mike Timlin, general manager Ed Wade announced in a spare conference room in the bowels of Veterans Stadium on Monday.

But more than receiving three players in return for the game's best defensive third baseman, the Phillies have ended a once-happy marriage that seemed destined to end with a ceremony in Cooperstown and his No. 17 hung on a commemorative disc beyond the outfield wall.

Instead, it ended in a soap-operatic mess filled with more whispered back-biting than an episode of Dynasty. With the dust finally clearing, the Phillies have lost their best player and receive a lefthanded pitcher in Smith who threw a Major League no-hitter last Sept. 3 but is still only in Triple-A, a one-time closer in Timlin who is eligible for free agency at the end of the season and might again be dealt before the season ends and an infielder in Polanco who is more akin to line-drive hitting Marlon Anderson than the powerful Rolen.

And it marks the second time since 2000 that the Phillies have lost a player worth the price of a season ticket. Almost two years to the day, Wade dealt Curt Schilling to the Arizona Diamondbacks for Travis Lee, Vicente Padilla, Omar Daal and Nelson Figueroa. Since the deal, Schilling has won a ring and composed a 45-14 record.

Once Spring Training was in full swing, Wade knew Rolen was not going to be a Phillie in 2003.

"I knew in Spring Training that we had a zero chance to get anything done," Wade said.

In brokering the deal, Wade admits that the Phillies are giving up a lot, but he's more interested in the players the team has now opposed to the players they once had.

"We did not replace Scott Rolen with an All-Star, Gold Glove third baseman, but we did replace him with a very good baseball player, and we got some other guys who should help us,'' Wade said.

In adding Rolen, Cardinals GM Walt Jocketty believes his club has added the piece of the puzzle needed to finish off the rest of the NL Central. With a five-game lead over the second-place Cincinnati Reds, Rolen not only picks up a lot of ground in the standings, but also seems slated for his first-ever appearance in the playoffs. This fact should satisfy Rolen, who said during a cantankerous press conference at the beginning of spring training that the Philles were not committed to winning.

"We are very pleased and excited to add Scott Rolen to our lineup," Jocketty said in a statement. "He is an All-Star, a proven run producer and an excellent defensive player."

In a quickly assembled press conference in which only Wade spoke, the GM broke down his side of the negotiations and relayed Rolen's feelings about the deal. After returning to Philadelphia from Atlanta where Rolen belted a home run in a victory over the Braves (wearing a throwback, powder-blue Phils uniform, no less) on Sunday, the new Red Bird was trying to figure out how to get to Miami where he will make his debut against the Marlins on Tuesday.

"He said he appreciated the opportunity and the organization and wondered where he goes from here and how he gets there," Wade said. "He was fairly single-minded in getting his gear and getting on an airplane and making sure that he was with the Cardinals in Florida in time for the game [Tuesday]."

Like Rolen's last season in Philadelphia, Wade said the negotiations with the Cardinals were quite tempestuous with each club making concessions. According to Wade, trade talks between the Cardinals and Phillies broke down without a deal at 11 p.m. in Sunday night and that as of Monday afternoon, the Phils were currently negotiating a deal with an unnamed team until the Cardinals jumped back into the fray.

"We were one phone call away from Scott not being a Cardinal and going somewhere else," said Wade.

The Phillies' GM faced the prospect of getting nothing for his star if Rolen stayed in Philadelphia. If the new basic agreement between players and owners includes a redesign of the the First-Year Player Draft, it's possible that it will eliminate compensatory draft picks for teams that lose free agents.

"At some point you have to say the deal that sits in front of me is good enough that it outweighs gambling that something better is going to be out there 48 hours from now," said Wade. "The players were right."

According to Wade, the deal was finalized at 5 p.m. on Monday and was announced officially at 6:30 p.m. With Monday being an off day in the National League, all players will be with their respective teams by Tuesday. Smith will report to Triple-A Scranton/Wilkes-Barre and will start either on Wednesday or Thursday.

Still, Wade says the deal occurred because the Phillies were very aggressive. Some teams, he claims, "moved out of the process because of the ebb and flow of the labor situation." He categorized the Cardinals as one of those teams as well as six others that he claims he was talking to.

Rolen had been the subject of trade rumors after deciding not to negotiate on a multi-year extension that Wade categorized on Monday as a "lifetime deal." The Phillies report that they were anticipating giving Rolen a 10-year contract extension last November that could've been worth up to $140 million. Rolen ended up signing an $8.6 million, one-year deal in January that kept him and the Phillies away from an arbitration hearing, but made it clear he wanted to become a free agent after this season. That decision forced the Phillies to make a move or risk losing him for nothing.

"I regret the outcome," Wade said. "We were very serious about the offer we made and when that didn't work out we tried to get him to sign a two-year guaranteed contract with player options. We regret the outcome but don't regret the way we approached him."

In reality, the Phillies never offered the 10-years and $140 million they keep touting. Instead, it the guaranteed portion of the offer was six years, $72 million. The deal stretched to 10 years and to $140 million only if one included all the options and incentives and buy-outs in the package, all structured in the club's behalf.

Surely it's not a deal to sneeze at, but nowhere close to the "lifetime" contract Wade and his minions keep throwing out there.

Art of the Deal Rolen did not sign an extension with the Cardinals, so he remains eligible for free agency. However, when rumors reached fervor on Saturday, Rolen said he would be interested in signing a contract extension with the Cardinals.

About signing, potentially, with the Cardinals, Rolen said on Saturday that the Red Birds were one of the teams he would consider.

"We all know that is a situation I'd be willing to talk about," Rolen said on Saturday.

On Monday, he was a lot less ambiguous with his comments as told to Gammons. Growing up in Jasper, Ind., Rolen says he went to two parks as a kid — St. Louis and Cincinnati.

"I was there at Busch with my dad, sitting in the stands wherever we could get a seat, watching Ozzie Smith," Rolen said. "It may be the best place to play in the game, and it's the place I always dreamed of playing.

"As I said, I've gone to heaven."

And dropping him in the middle of the Cardinals' powerful lineup looks like hell for opposing pitchers. When the Cardinals come to the Vet on Aug. 16 for a three-game set, Rolen should bat fifth in a lineup that looks something like this:

Fernando Vina, 2b Edgar Renteria, ss Jim Edmonds, cf Albert Pujols, lf Rolen, 3b J.D. Drew, rf Tino Martinez, 1b Mike Matheny, c

Signing potential free agents hasn't been a problem for the Cardinals, who play in front of well-mannered fans in a baseball-crazy city. In the last five years, the Cardinals traded for potential free agents Jim Edmonds and Mark McGwire and convinced them to stay in St. Louis long-term.

However, while Wade says there were numerous suitors all clamoring for Rolen's services, ComcastSportsNet.com sources indicate otherwise. According to one well-placed baseball executive, if a deal with the Cardinals wasn't consummated, Rolen would still be wearing the red-and-white Phillie pinstripes.

"I really searched for another team that was interested and I couldn't find one," the source says. "The Phillies were trying to create a market for Rolen that didn't exist."

Originally, rumors circled that the Phillies were going to receive Double-A prospect Jimmy Journell, who is rated as the Cardinals' top up-and-comer by Baseball America. However, a source says that Journell was never part of any deal. Instead, the source says, the Cardinals were not going to make a deal with the Phillies unless Timlin — a free agent when the season ends — was included in the deal.

But Wade says it was Smith who was the "deal buster."

"He was the key part of the deal," Wade said.

Like the other rumors, it was reported that a deal with another club would not occur if the Phillies had to pay the remainder of Rolen's contract or if he couldn't work out a contract extension with an interested club.

Not at all true.

"I wish I kept a list of all the misinformation," Wade said.

The Players Polanco, 26, is hitting .284 with five homers and 27 RBIs. He batted .307 last season and .316 in his first full year, in 2000. Wade said he'd play third base and bat second in the Phillies' lineup against the San Francisco Giants on Tuesday night.

Polanco is a slick fielder who plays three infield positions and leads third basemen in fielding chances. However, he has played too many games at short and second to qualify for the league lead. A prototypical contact hitter, Polanco has struck out just 26 times in 92 games this season.

Smith, who pitched a no-hitter in his rookie season last year, was sent to Triple-A Memphis on July 20 after going 1-5 with a 6.94 ERA in 11 appearances, including 10 starts. The 22-year-old lefthander was 6-3 with a 3.83 ERA in 16 games last year.

In his last outing in the big leagues on July 19, Smith allowed eight runs and nine hits in 4 2/3 innings in a loss to the Pirates.

Smith is best compared to Randy Wolf.

"He's a surplus prospect," Wade said.

Timlin is 1-3 with a 2.51 ERA in 42 appearances and is holding righties to a .197 average. The 36-year-old righthander is in the final year of a contract that is paying him $5.25 million this season. In 1996 he saved 31 games for the Toronto Blue Jays and has saved 114 games during his 11-year Major League career. However, this season he has blown two saves working primarily in middle relief.

Timlin won two World Series' with the Blue Jays and appeared in two games of the 1993 series against the Phillies.

Nickle, 27, was 3-5 with a 2.97 ERA and seven saves in 34 games — one of them a start — at Scranton this season. He appeared in four games — 4 1/3 innings pitched — for the Phillies this season and has made 10 career major-league appearances.

Glory Days When Scott Rolen came to Philadelphia as a fresh-faced 21-year old, he was too good to be true. He played hard, possessed Midwestern, homespun values and spoke about fair play and hard work. If he was going to do something, he said, he was going to do it all out and to win.

Philadelphia fans immediately latched onto the quiet kid from Jasper, Ind.

After winning the Rookie of the Year Award in 1997, Rolen signed a four-year, $10 million deal with the idea that he was going to be a Phillie for life. In fact, Rolen signed for far less than he could have gotten because he believed the Phillies were on the right path and he was enamored with the idea that he was going to be like his kindred spirit, Mike Schmidt, and spend his entire career in Philadelphia.

But all those losing seasons caught up with Rolen. So too did the firing of mild-mannered manager Terry Francona, who is a close friend of Rolen's. Meanwhile, Rolen's quiet nature in a city full of loud and sometimes abrasive sports fans, wore thin on both sides. Sensitive and thoughtful, Rolen chose to do his talking on the field or in the clubhouse — nowhere else. Philly fans wanted their rough-and-tumble athletes' personas to translate to a give-and-take relationship with the city that Rolen was not willing to have. His family (and his dogs, Enis and Emma) came first and nothing else was a close second.

When prodigal son and fan-favorite Larry Bowa was hired as the team's skipper, many speculated when he and his sensitive third baseman would clash. It didn't take long.

In June of 2001 during a series against Tampa Bay, Bowa told the Philadelphia Daily News that Rolen's recent futility at the plate was "killing us." Rolen took the criticism not as constructive but intended to embarrass him and had it out with the manager before a game against the Devil Rays.

"I came in here with the intent of kicking your ass," Rolen reportedly told Bowa as he walked into the manager's office that day.

Their relationship remained strained ever since and the soap opera began in earnest.

Later that year, Phillies executive assistant and manager of the hard-boiled manager of 1980 World Championship team, Dallas Green, told a radio station that Rolen was OK with being a "so-so" player and that his personality would not allow him to be a great player.

After the season, Rolen summed up the 2001 campaign as the worst he ever went through and cited Bowa and Green as the main culprits in his dissatisfaction. His ire manifested itself during an edgy press conference to kick off spring training.

There, Rolen held a press conference to explain why he opted for free agency questioning what he thought was the team's commitment to winning.

"Philadelphia is the [fourth-largest] market in the game, and I feel that for the last however long, the organization has not acted like it," Rolen said in February. "There's a lack of commitment to what I think is right."

Rolen pointed out that the Phillies, who entered the season with a payroll around $60 million that ranks in the bottom third of all Major League franchises, were notorious for allowing players of star quality walk away when their contracts are about to expire. It happened two seasons ago with Curt Schilling and he wasn't so sure it was going to stop now, he said.

"Part of my whole problem is that I look around and see Bobby Abreu, I see Pat Burrell, I see Doug Glanville and Mike Lieberthal and this is the core that's been talked about for three or four years," Rolen said then. "These are unbelievable ballplayers. But three years from now, when everybody becomes a free agent or arbitration-eligible and it's time to re-sign everybody, I want to turn around and see Bobby Abreu and Pat Burrell and Doug Glanville and Mike Lieberthal. To me, what history shows, I will not be able to do that."

Not unless they are playing for the Cardinals.

What followed over the next six weeks were a few public discussions with Bowa and a miserable slump in May and June that turned his .284 April into a .240 average by the end of May. In June, an unnamed teammate reportedly called Rolen a "cancer" and that his status was a distraction to the team.

However, things haven't been all bad for Rolen this season. He started in his first-ever All-Star Game and is on pace to drive in over 100 runs for the second year in a row and third time of his career and belt 25 homers for the fifth season in a row.

But the constant circus around his future was starting to drain him, he told Gammons.

"I think I must have been asked more questions than the rest of the team combined," Rolen said. "It was crazy. In spring training, all the way back to the winter, it was that way. Before the All-Star break, I know I was a little down. I shouldn't have been, but having people leaning on both my shoulders all the time drained me.

"People would tell me that I needed to be more selfish, to play for numbers. But that's not the way I know how to play. I'm not good at playing for numbers, I'm not good at playing for myself. To go from last place to first is more than I ever could have dreamed."

The Future Even with Polanco in the fold, Wade says the Phillies go into the offseason in a position they haven't been familiar with in almost a decade.

"We go into the offseason for the first time in nine years potentially looking for a third baseman," Wade said.

For now, Wade says his concern is to build for the future and not look into the past that saw superstars Curt Schilling and now Rolen leave amidst acrimony.

"I don't think we did anything to necessarily make the player unhappy,'' Wade said. "We're always trying to do things the right way. We're always trying to make our players comfortable. We're always trying to compensate them fairly. We're always trying to bring teammates around that they are comfortable playing with and gives us a better chance of winning.''

He certainly has given Rolen that chance now ... problem is, it isn't in Philadelphia.

E-mail John R. Finger

As the Clubhouse turns: Rolen takes heat from management

Try this one on for size. A player — a weak-hitting but slick-fielding shortstop at that — hosts his own radio talk show before every game. In this show, the shortstop rips his manager, calls the fans the worst in baseball and challenges his teammates to play better than they are.

In turn, the manager — an old salt of guy — alienates all of his players. He calls them names and tells them that they are an embarrassment to the uniform. The team ends up being so unified in their hatred of their boss that they go out and win the World Series for the first (and only) time in the franchises' history.

Flash ahead 21 years. That shortstop is now the manager and the old salt is up in the front office as the team's special assistant to something or other (thank you old-boy network). This time it's the old salt that's going on the radio and the manager who is alienating his young players.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

So here it is one last time before we put it to rest forever. That's barring — at the very least — someone else associated with the Philadelphia Phillies opening their big mouth and sticking their big boot in there.

First, the recap:

Last week, special assistant to the General Manager Dallas Green, told the listeners of WIP that Scott Rolen — who won the Rookie of the Year award in 1997 and owns two gold gloves for fielding excellence at third base — was nothing more than a "so-so" player and that he lacked the "personality" to be a great player. He later reiterated those comments to the beat writers in a loud discussion in the press box before a game against the San Diego Padres.

That little turn of the soap opera dial spawned a story in the Bucks County Courier Times that the Phils' clubhouse is nearing mutiny and if the players put it to a vote on whether manager Larry Bowa should stay or go, Bowa would be a loser in a landslide.

"He can manage. He knows baseball," one player said. "But if we win, it will be just to spite him. Everybody hates him that much."

You would think that a team going through all of this after just completing a three-city road trip where the team went 4-6 with four losses coming on walk-off dingers while falling three games out of first place would be the beginning of the end. After all of Green's chirping about the players, the players whining about the manager and the manager and his coaching staff complaining to each other that the players don't care enough or don't take the losses as hard as they do, there was nothing more than a great big mess.

Call it As the Clubhouse Turns.

So all week this silliness is hanging over the team in its sheer pleonasm, causing anyone who wanders into the Phils' clubhouse to think what move they should make if a rumble breaks out between the players, coaches and media. Maybe that's why the press tends to gravitate toward the bat rack in the middle of the room — in case anything happens, they can come out swinging.

But something quite odd happened while all of this was going on. There were no fights, in fact, the warring factions were very complimentary of each other. Instead of folding up the tent and exposing their pink, rounded belly to the Atlanta Braves letting them run away with the NL East, the Phils got mad. And they fought back like a bunch of wolverines on speed.

Sound familiar?

More than 12 years ago, Bowa lost his job for many of the same reasons his players cite. One player, in a story published by the Philadelphia Daily News Tuesday, said the skipper is on them for even the most minute mistake and no one has a good word to say about him.

"He's a real good baseball man. He knows the game and fundamentals and nobody can get lackadaisical around him," a player told the Daily News. "If you make the same mistakes, he'll stay on top of you."

"The thing is, though, that it's a 162-game season. Guys are going to struggle, and he doesn't always seem to understand that. I think to say that [everybody hates him] might be a little overstated, but his approach might hurt in the long run.

"For a franchise-type player, [Bowa] might be a pretty good reason not to come back. Every player has his story. If you're on his good side, you're fine. But you can get on his bad side awfully quick, especially pitchers. He's definitely different than any manager I've ever seen in the big leagues. If I was a manager, I definitely wouldn't be like that."

Some of the players may not want to admit it, but Bowa has a lot to do with the team's success this season. His predecessor, Terry Francona, was widely liked by all of his players but last year they only won 65 games for him. Already this season, the Phils have won 66 for Bowa — maybe that's because he won't aw-shucks a loss. Last year Francona was almost glib after a loss, giving the boilerplate answer of: "We're still running them out. Our guys haven't quit."

This season, losses sting and Bowa takes them hard. When his team loses, Bowa feels the loss like it's something personal. He manages his team like they are a college basketball team in late February who desperately needs a couple of more wins to get off the bubble and get into the NCAA Tournament. It's a nice attitude to have but can be a bit grating if you're a player. How would you like it if your boss pointed out all of your tiniest mistakes and told you that you're costing the company millions because you forgot to dot one "I." Chances are you would lash out.

Barring a collapse where the Phillies fail to win at least 15 more games, Bowa will be the National League manager of the year, just as Green was in 1980. But instead of emulating that abrasive style, perhaps there could be a lesson learned from those halcyon days.

The year following the World Series victory in 1980, the Phils jumped out to a big lead in the NL East. But just before the player's strike in 1981, the team was so fed up with Green that they couldn't take it anymore. Winning just wasn't worth it anymore.

So it had to end like something out of Shakespeare. Green, the only man to lead the Phils to a title was exiled to Chicago and took Bowa and Ryne Sandberg with him. After a NL East title in 1984, Green was on the move again, proving that maybe professional athletes don't need a drill sergeant.

Hopefully, Bowa and the rest of the Phils can learn from the franchises' history. Lord knows a lot of it has been repeated ad infinitum for 13 of the last 14 years around here.

Who's Up First
One thing Bowa has been able to do well is measure the whims and rhythms of who is ready to go on a big hitting surge and who isn't. Take the most recent lineup change for instance.

Just after the All-Star Break, the Phillies were 7-12 with Doug Glanville leading off, Jimmy Rollins hitting second and Marlon Anderson flip-flopping between seventh and eighth in the order. Two weeks ago, Bowa moved Anderson to the two-hole, Rollins to the leadoff spot and Glanville to seventh. Since then, they are 9-4.

The players have benefited too. Rollins is 12-for-47 in the top spot with two homers and three stolen bases. Glanville is 7-for-30, including a 0-for-5 Tuesday night in Milwaukee. Anderson is 12-for-37 with eight runs hitting second and has hit in eight of nine games since being moved up.

Quote of the Week
"I thought I had a so-so series."

— Scott Rolen after going 8-for-11 with three home runs against the Dodgers, which helped him earn National League player of the week honors.

Stat of the Week
Wins in 2000: 65.
Wins in 2001: 66.

Bull's Eye
It seems slugging left fielder Pat Burrell has caught the eye of a former Phils' left fielder who was known to smack a few into the upper deck at the Vet.

Fan-favorite Greg Luzinski was at the Vet last weekend to take part in the Phils' alumni weekend and apparently sought out the young slugger to talk a little ball.

Although much more athletic than Luzinski, Burrell's game is uncannily similar to the Bull's. In his first full season in 1972, Luzinski belted 18 homers on his way to 307 in an often brilliant but sometimes injury-plagued career. He also hit .281 with 68 RBIs and 114 strikeouts.

Burrell also belted 18 homers last season, drove in 79 with 139 whiffs and a .261 batting average. If he picks up the pace, he could match Luzinski's second year homer numbers. In 1973, he smacked 29 dingers with 97 RBIs and 139 strikeouts to go with a .285 average. Burrell's on pace for 23 homers, 95 RBIs and a .270 average.

However, Burrell's 123 whiffs should surpass the Bull's numbers.

During a career that spanned 15 seasons, Luzinski hit .300 four times, hit over 30 homers four times and drove in 100 or more runs four times. Looks like Burrell has a pretty good mentor in the Bull and it's impressive that he was willing to take the time to listen to an old, wise player.

Then again, it's not like Burrell shouldn't know who Luzinski is. After all, Burrell chased all of the Bull's records at Reading during the 1999 season.

On the Horizon
The two games left against Milwaukee on Wednesday and Thursday will be the easiest ones for the Phils over the next few weeks. Friday night, they open a tough, weekend series against the Cardinals in St. Louis before heading home to face the Central-leading Astros for three games and the West-leading Diamondbacks for four more.

Beginning with Tuesday night's 10-4 win in Milwaukee, the Phils face a stretch where they will play 26 games in 27 days and only have three more off days the rest of the season.

Bowa called the homestand against Houston and Arizona "a minefield."

John R. Finger
ComcastSportsNet.com