Saturday was loopy enough, hydroplaning, an epic rain delay, frigid temperatures, a 10 p.m. start, an almost 2 a.m. Sunday finish.

No one could argue, though, that it wasn't fair.

When beer sales were cut off in the fourth inning, fans began to protest until they realized it was 11:30.

Around midnight, the longest lines at the Bank were for the men's room (a welcome change, that) and hot chocolate.

Still, it was an epic evening, something to brag about already and to tell the kids and grandkids later.

We got home at 3 p.m.  On Sunday, we nursed a baseball hangover, but in an entirely good way.

This was after nly two beers during six hours at the ballpark. We were simply woozy from the win and the strangeness of the late night and early morning.

Last night, if you'll pardon the expression, was a whole different ballgame. 

The evening began deliriously. I've never been to a game where people were so thrilled, and I was fortunate enough to be at the final sixth game of the 1993 epic pennant race. (And went into labor the next day after more than three hours of yelling and jumping.) It was like the whole crowd was jacked up on Red Bull. Fans were making friends with strangers on the Broad Street Line, hugging each other on the walk from the station to the park.  

Then the rain came, at first a drizzle, then Biblical. Our seats -- presumably, we hold them still -- are in the pavillion level, a couple stories above the field. The wind started ripping something fierce. Still, no bozo would call the game.

Most of all, the sheer greed of Bud Selig or Rupert Murdoch (two men one would like to blame for almost anything) was cruel to the ballplayers. In football, players know they get hurt. Any game might end a career. They play in all sorts of  nasty business. Fans and athletes brag about the snow, the sleet.

But not baseball. These elite players hadn't come this far to slip and slide away in the primordial soup that was Monday's weather. They don't practice in such conditions and never play in such torrents, so why allow such foul conditions in the most important game of their lives?

You wouldn't keep your dog out in this weather. Not even your cat. And to what end? Baseball ratings are dropping. Kids can't stay up to watch these games. Loving fans, as devoted as you can find, could barely endure such wet and cold. It's a very good thing no one was injured. All these players, the Phils and the Rays, have worked too hard and played too well to get to this.  

Can someone vote Selig out of office next Tuesday, too?

As of early afternoon Tuesday, tonight's forecast calls for SNOW.

 

 

Karen Heller: Bill Green's raucous arrival

By Karen Heller

Inquirer Columnist

The current incarnation of City Council, birthed with the 1951 Home Rule Charter, has its own entrenched traditions. The place can appear old, too. Some members and staff look as if they're auditioning for the road company of Guys and Dolls.

There are rules, and certain ways of doing things. Freshmen members, for example, are supposed to be quiet, observant, respectful.

Bill Green doesn't play that game.

His father, the former mayor, said last year of his son, "He's going to make a mark so fast and so strong that they'll be stunned." True, that.

When the son talks - which is often; rare is the microphone he fails to court - eyeballs roll. Heads shake. Blood pressures spike.

"I'm not here to make friends," Green says. Good, because there isn't a lot of love in the room.

"I don't understand this constant need for attention," says Council veteran James Kenney. When Green speaks, Kenney's face approximates the severe ranking on the homeland security chart. "It's extremely important to have collegial experiences. You need friends, and to be open enough to their experience to learn from what others know. And you need nine votes to get legislation passed."

This summer, Frank DiCicco accused Green of "attempting to grandstand and gain public notoriety." He continued "to marvel at your inexperience, your political naivete, and your inability to see an issue for what it truly is." Furthermore, "I have reached the end of my rope."

All in six months!

And they say it takes ages to accomplish anything in Council.

A man with a plan

Pols are in the popularity business. Being liked is essential to getting elected, getting stuff done. So there's something curious, admirable even, about Green's not going along. He doesn't seem to care. His was the lone vote opposing privatizing the biosolids plant, one of two against the Fairmount Park and rec department merger.

Sitting in his dinky, dreary office, Green, 43, gives the impression he isn't planning to grow mold, like some peers. Council, after all, is a sinecure, where members die in office. Joan Krajewski retired for a day - but what a day! - so she could legally collect almost $300,000 in retirement benefits.

"I'm still innocent enough to believe I can make a difference," Green says. "We're a policy-oriented office. Most people on City Council work harder at constituent service." Frustrating? "The disappointing thing to me is that people make decisions based on personality." Council, he admits, can be a "lot like high school."

Although he's formed an alliance with fellow freshmen Curtis Jones Jr. and Maria Quiñones-Sánchez, Green is not about to be voted prom king any time soon.

Having moved back to Philadelphia from Atlanta four years ago, Green strikes observers as a middle-aged man in a hurry, possibly eyeing a bigger job. In his office, he has a large whiteboard listing a weekly "to-do list," an ambitious new proposal every week. It's going to drive his colleagues bonkers.

Can't we get along?

Some wags argue that every fight in this city boils down to one: Vince Fumo vs. John Dougherty. Still. This, even though Fumo is standing trial in federal court - facing time in the big house much bigger than his Fairmount manse - while Johnny Doc can get elected only by electricians.

Kenney and DiCicco are Fumocrats. Green is pals with Doc. Within seconds, each will disparage the other's association.

In defense, Green says, "John Dougherty hasn't called my office and asked me for anything." And Kenney says, "Am I here because of Fumo? Sure. But I think, after 18 years, I'm my own person."

So let's put that in the past, the rearview mirror of politics. Time to move on, broker peace. I'm willing to do what I can. Drinks are on me.

---

 

If you had to constantly stand next to Cindy McCain, you might spend $150,000 on clothes, too.

The Republican National Committee spent more than that on Sarah Palin's wardrobe in the seven weeks since she was selected as John McCain's running mate, politico.com reports today.

There was almost $50,000 invested at Saks Fifth Avenue stores in St. Louis and New York. (Had she chosen to shop at the Bala Cynwyd branch, she would have saved the RNC sales tax!)

In early September, the RNC gave Palin more than $75,000 to drop at Neiman Marcus in Minneapolis.

Doesn't this make running for veep sound like a great job, or what? Maybe Palin can single-handedly boost retail sales.

Palin looks good. Her clothing is smart and appropriate. And we're guessing Anchorage isn't exactly a mecca of sartorial style. 

But that sure is a lot of capital to spend on duds for a 10-week run as the vice presidential candidate.

Now we know why Palin looks so happy. She's won valuable prizes! A whole new career wardrobe, running for a job that usually just requires a nice assortment of power ties. (Plus there's the almost $5,000 on hair and makeup in September.) When most of us switch jobs, we don't even get a Phillies shirt.

The choice to spend so much, and so quickly, seems counterintuitive to the campaign's rhetoric.

John McCain has made a big deal about "Joe the Plumber," so much so that some wags have suggested he's the senator's new running mate. 

Palin speaks frequently about "Joe Sixpack" and "Main Street" as opposed to Wall Street.

Saks and Neiman Marcus aren't exactly your Main Street, unless your Main Street happents to be Fifth Avenue.

The Atlantic.com reports that clothes were also purchased at Barneys on Manhattan's Madison Avenue,  the snootiest, hautiest store imaginable with posibly the most superior sales staff outside of Paris. It's the very definition of the East Coast elite. (The Eastern media elite can hardly afford to shop there.)

Which illuminates another issue: the idea that a candidate should mirror the electorate.

Candidates aren't like us. It takes a certain kind of personality, drive and experience to run for higher office.

And, now, a certain kind of wardrobe.

The RNC can spend money however it sees fit. But this kind of expense account makes it a whole lot harder to claim to be one of the people, a Sarah Sixpack, when you're packing a $150,000 wardrobe more suitable with Cristal.

The Parent-Infant Center in West Philadelphia has a waiting list of more than 100 babies for its infant care.

That's right, 100 babies.

It might be easier to get into college.

Here's a column on the shortage of top daycare in West Philadelphia and Center City.

Karen Heller: So many kids, so little day care

By Karen Heller

Inquirer Columnist

 

Oliver Stone's new movie, W., may be a case of too much too soon. Is this really what people want to rush out and see this weekend?

It's hard to go pay to watch an impersonation of someone we see almost daily in the news. I caught a snippet of Josh Brolin's performance on NPR's Fresh Air and he sounds eerily like the president, but is that compelling enough to draw people into the theater, particularly when the president's approval rating is at an all-time low?

It's like paying to watch a dramatic rendition of the Detroit Lions. 

Here's one of America's most controversial directors on the subject of one of America's most controversial administrations. Not sure that popcorn is going to make the experience of watching Richard Dreyfuss, an acquired taste, play Dick Cheney (ditto), any more pleasant. Perhaps gum surgery might be preferable.

Distance is a terrific gift when it comes to analysis and interpretation. Movies dealing with Iraq, the decision to go to war, and the aftershocks of Sept. 11 have done poorly at the box office with a citzenry still not ready to spend free time being "entertained" by what is still news.

In the Valley of Elah, Redacted, Rendition, Lions for Lambs and Home of the Brave have all fared poorly at the box office. Most of them were critically panned, as well.

HBO's Generation Kill failed to generate much attention, despite being created by David Simon and Ed Burns, the talents behind The Wire. Perhaps, in a few years, we can all work up to watching it.

In the mean time, watching the Red Sox square off against Tampa Bay looks like a better use of time.

 

So, in the last question of the last debate -- both candidates have cumulatively debated 40 times, a Biblical number that -- education finally came up.

One question, folks.

In this economy, we should be far more concerned about education.

For future generations. For retraining workers.  For improving our nation and making it competitive.

Instead, it's a lot of  talk about taxes.

Guess what? If we don't educate our children and workers, they'll make less money. They'll pay fewer taxes.

The economy will suffer, as will the country's standing in the world.

Health care and education really matter. Especially now. Without them, what do you have?

Here's what I wrote in Tuesday's column.

Karen Heller: Health, education foremost for voters

By Karen Heller

Inquirer Columnist

 

 

Obviously, you watch the Phils.

During commercial breaks, switch to the debate.

During any pitching changes -- with any luck, only for the Dodgers -- switch to the debate.

Do you know how many pitchers pitched Monday? A baker's dozen.

Any time a candidate mentions "change," switch back.

Ditto for McCain calling anyone "my friends," especially if they're not.

On Monday, we became so anxious, we switched briefly to Jon Stewart's opening monologue.

When we switched back, the Phils took charge. Which is change we can believe in.

And, now, the quote of the day from Nick Paumgarten in The New Yorker.

"Last week, the global economy, struggling to agree on a price for its components, in an environment without leverage or liquidity, found pretty much everything (except gold bars and Phillies tickets) to be worth a lot less than everyone thought. Your house, your billfold, your portfolio, your clout, your talent: market to market, these will, apparently, fetch a fraction of what you’d expected or depended upon. As haircuts go, this is a scalping." 

See! The Phils are the only thing that are actually increasing in value.

 

Remember the Sunshine State? The place that turned the 2000 presidential election into one of history's longest political dramas, so "entertaining" that it served as the basis for an Emmy-winning HBO dramatic film?

John McCain and Barack Obama seem to have forgotten about Florida this season. Sure, it's great they're spending so much time in Pennsylvania and Ohio they could qualify for residency. Obama is so at home that he pledged his support for the Phils during his Philadelphia visit Saturday, a potential political risk if Tampa Bay makes it to the World Series. As for the Red Sox or, dare we mention, the Dodgers, those teams are based in true blue states.

Yes, it's wonderful to be so popular. We love to have all these candidates hanging around and benefitting from national exposure, though it is tiring to perpetually hear the region reduced to the "rust belt." Perhaps commentators are speaking about the foliage.

Perhaps they like this region because Ohio and Pennsylvania are neighbors.  Philadelphia also gives candidate solid media exposure into three states.

The Delaware Valley isn't far from New York, where McCain plans to grovel before a ticked-off David Letterman Thursday after standing him up and unleashing a week's worth of bilious monologues. It's also close to Washington, D.C. where, correct me if I'm wrong, the two men, as well as Democratic veep candidate Joe Biden, actually hold jobs.

Scranton has become quite the political hot spot with Biden and the Clintons, both claiming heritage there, that it's become famous for more than The Office. It's the go-to photo op.

Are the candidates ever leaving? Are they ever heading South to Florida? Could it be that the place was such a voting nightmare the candidates are fearful of any repeats? Perhaps, with so many different media markets, Florida is  too expensive and difficult to conquer. Meanwhile, we'll just enjoy all the attention and feeling like the keystone state is the key to it all.