OK, actually I just made that up. I'm basing my report on...me thinking this would be an awesome idea. But this much of the story is true: The Reading Phillies are changing their name to serve you better:
The Reading Phillies will no longer be called the Reading Phillies.
As a part of the team's makeover, the Reading Phillies, also known as the "R-Phils," will unveil a new name, logo and jersey on Nov. 17 at FirstEnergy Stadium. It's a drastic chance for an organization that holds the longest relationship with a major league franchise in baseball. The Reading Phillies have been under the Phillies' umbrella for 46 years.
The Reading Phillies, who play in the Eastern League, debuted in 1967 and have never been called anything other than "Reading Phillies'' in their existence.
Now we all know how this game works: Team officials are thinking up some ultra-cool hybrid fake non-existent animal -- like a River Shark (which will never be in the headlines for devouring a little kid, because it doesn't exist) or a Mud Hens or Kickapoo, something cute to make several millions of dollars by putting the logo on hats that hipsters who've never seen a baseball game in their lives will wear them into beer-and-donuts joints in Fishtown.
They should go in another direction. The Reading ballclub needs to honor the only -- and we mean it -- famous person to emerge from the industrial ooze up the Schuykill, John Updike. Not only was Updike arguably the greatest American writer of the latter 20th Century, but he also produced what many folks consider the best baseball article of all-time: "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu" (if I have to explain what it's about, you shouldn't be reading this). It is not only a good idea for Baseballtown to honor Reading's native son and his most famous character Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom -- it is essential.
By merging the baseball and literary worlds, the Reading squad will have licensing dollars coming out the wazoo. But it gets better. Sure, a doubleheader could be billed as Rabbit, Redux. But how awesome will it be next summer when an up-and-coming speedster finds himself on first base, and the crowd yells in unison, "Rabbit, run!"