Stan Hochman | Ghosts of '64 have finally moved to New York
1964? Fuggedaboutit! Please, no more questions about why Gene Mauch pitched Jim Bunning and Chris Short on short rest, about why he didn't pitch Ray Culp for 36 days, why he yanked Jack Baldschun, his closer, in midcount if he nibbled his way to 2-0 or 3-1. No more late-night calls to Dennis Bennett in Klamath Falls, no more searching for Wes Covington, the guy Mauch said "popped off and then popped up."
No more whispers about what was in the clubhouse red juice that vanished with 2 weeks to play. No more bitterness from Art Mahaffey, not a word about Chico Ruiz, not a cynical reference to scout Don Hoak, who screeched, "Stay close to the Cardinals and they'll fold."
From this moment on, no more late-September radio or television appearances for me, rehashing those grim memories, those 10 nightmarish losses in a row, the Phillies squandering that 6 1/2 game lead with 17 to play. The 2007 Mets own that piece of baseball infamy now, blowing a seven-game lead with 17 to play. It's a New York story now, how that talented team wobbled to the finish line. Let them gag on it.
Gene Mauch was four times more cunning than Charlie Manuel, five times more devious. Stood behind the batting cage looking for clues while the opposing team took batting practice until Leo Durocher fired fungo shots off his shins before a game against the Cubs. Utilized the double-switch four times a week, before other managers even caught on to what he was doing. Buried Culp, embarrassed Baldschun, belittled Mahaffey and traded Ferguson Jenkins because he thought he was too timid.
Mauch could fill your notebook with eloquent baseball talk. Reporters are lucky if Manuel fills a page. Mauch was city, Manuel is country. Mauch would yank his cap off twice an inning. Manuel only does it when his pitchers walks the leadoff hitter with a three-run lead.
Manuel played the hand he was dealt, a pitching staff with a sky-high earned run average. Kept running Jose Mesa and Antonio Alfonseca out there, even in those last 2 frantic weeks, trying to spot them against hitters they had a chance to get out, trying to buy rest for the back end of his bullpen. And when they didn't get 'em out, he moved on, until he could get to J.C. Romero and Tom Gordon and Brett Myers.
Stuck with Pat Burrell after a .129 June and never once said he couldn't trade him for a load of pumpkins, which is what Mauch would have said. Mauch was volatile, a bridge-playing drill sergeant. Manuel is smooth as a good bourbon, a pinochle-playing, arm-wrestling uncle with a molasses-thick accent.
Enough about '64. This gritty team drew more than 3 million to that cozy ballpark, part penny arcade, part pitcher's nightmare. Captured the head of a blue-collar city, coming from behind 48 times to win, scuffling from seven games back to win the division.
Closest thing to a nickname was Jimmy Rollins' preseason declaration that the Phillies were "the team to beat." Wordier than Dave Cash's "Yes we can" and more controversial than Tug McGraw's "You gotta believe."
Me, I thought about dubbing them "Charlie's Angels" or "The Rubberband Men" And then I came up with "The Wiz Kids" as a play on the youthful 1950 Whiz Kids, plus a reference to the melted cheese glue that sometimes holds a messy cheesesteak together. And then I worried about trademarks, about a cheesey image that didn't capture their grit, about bathroom humor.
All those key injuries, all those candy-armed pitchers on the disabled list. Maybe I should have campaigned for "The Wit-or-WidoutKids," a different cheesesteeak reference. A little long, a little obscure for out-of-towners, but when did we start worrying about what out-of-towners think?
They survived a month without Chase Utley, the quintessential throwback player, a royal pain to the media groping for colorful sound bites, perhaps because someone once told him that praise is poison if you swallow it.
Rollins out there every day, scampering through a career year. And then, and then, leading off on Sunday with a single, stealing second, stealing third, scoring on a sac fly, setting the tone for his teammates. And then justice triumphs, Rollins hammers that late-inning triple giving him 20 or more steals, doubles, triples, homers, becoming one of only four players in the whole cockeyed history of the game to do that.
Dare I mention the Daily News Bandwagon? I invented it in 1993 because I saw something in that macho band of warriors. And then they led the league in walks, which isn't macho at all, just good, sound baseball. They chugged all the way to the sixth game of the World Series. (And now, Mitch Williams has emerged as a terrific, appreciated television and radio analyst in a town supposedly without pity.)
Allowed the Bandwagon to sit there, gathering rust until this year. Required the would-be riders to declare their loyalty in spring training, before the pitchers started toppling like tenpins. Weeded out the summer soldiers and the sunshine patriots. Got 326 to sign up and cherished those two Bandwagon nights at the ballyard, all those third-generation Phillies fans wearing their colors, sharing their memories. And now they have a fresh, vivid memory to share, all those come-from-behind victories in the ultimate come-from-behind season.
Enjoy! *
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