Feeling cheated? Visit MLB’s new Hall

By Jeff Glauser

The Phanatic Magazine

The NBA has always been an organization bent on creating a positive brand image. It markets its stars more than any other sport, and brings mainstream recognition to them which is second to none. And though its referees could desperately use the same sort of image makeover, the league itself does what it sets out to do: create awareness.

One example is its cycling of marketing slogans, the most recent being: “The NBA: Where Amazing Happens.”

Which leads me to wonder what the MLB would use to similarly connect with its current fanbase. Here’s one I came up with:

“Major League Baseball: If You Ain’t Cheatin’, You Ain’t Tryin’”

With the latest A-Rod and Manny revelations, it’s added another notch in the bedpost of shame for Bud Selig in his tenure for heading up the most corrupt era in baseball’s century-and-a-half history. Future historians, of course, will dictate the legacy of the great players of this generation, however the amount of those who are/were legitimate seem to be growing scarcer by the day.

But to completely discount the past 20 years of accomplishments and landmarks set would also be an incredibly difficult proposition. Plus, future generations of fans may be eternally confused to see legendary athletes such as Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens dominating the record books but remaining in obscurity at Cooperstown.

So my suggestion is this: Give them their own Hall of Fame – A Hall of Shame, if you will. Let’s be frank: It’s now quite apparent that scores – if not hundreds – of athletes have been using performance-enhancing drugs in the sport for at least a couple decades now. However, based on production numbers and their level of career success, some have obviously cheated better than others.

Be that as it is, it’s time to give those tainted tricksters their own just due. So, by position, here is my all-time (Alleged) Cheater Dream Tream:

DH Platoon (Lefty): Rafael Palmeiro (Funny how he vehemently denied the steroid use, but freely admitted to using Viagra. And perhaps he needed one because of the other?)

DH Platoon (Righty): Jose Canseco (The captain of this squad, as he’s apparently seen the bare backsides of more ripped men than a gay porn star. But more embarrassing than that has to be getting beaten up by Danny Partridge)

1B: Mark McGwire (But when you congratulate him, just remember that he’s not here to talk about the past)

2B/Manager: Pete Rose (Okay, he wasn’t privy to the ‘roids scandal. But a cheater none-the-less. And he’d probably make a fortune betting on this squad)

3B: Alex Rodriguez (But doesn’t it always seem like he stopped his doses just before October?)

SS: Miguel Tejada (The former power-hitting MVP quickly became just another slap-hitting shortstop in no time flat)

LF: Barry Bonds (The Babe Ruth of the Cheating Hall. We still give credit to his achievements as I’m sure that his career will be unmatched by even someone who pumped in enough testosterone to kill an elephant)

RF: Sammy Sosa (Followed by the obligatory chest tap and kiss to the skies upon being inducted)

CF: Brady Anderson (He went from 16 HRs and 64 RBIs for the Orioles in 1995 to 50 HRs and 110 RBIs the following year back to 18 HRs and 73 RBIs in ’97. And in a 15 year career, never hit more than 24 HRs in a season and hit over 20 just twice outside of that landmark ’95 year)

C: Todd Hundley (At age 27, almost triples his HR output and more than doubles his RBI total from the previous season. After age 28, never gets within 17 HRs or 42 RBIs of those ’96 results)

On the “MVP” bench: Jason Giambi, Manny Ramirez , Mo Vaughn, et al

SP: Roger Clemens (If Bonds is the Babe Ruth of this squad, then Clemens is the Cy Young – which is fitting, considering how many of those awards he’s won). Good friend Andy Pettite would most likely get the next spot in the rotation.

Closer: John Rocker (Who has the amazing accomplishment of also getting into the Scumbag Hall of Fame, too)

Truths that need to be told

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

I hate to say it, but it needs to be said.

I’d like to say it pains me to say these things, but, as a Philly-area guy, many of us somehow seem to rise to the occasion when it comes to bitching and moaning about something. It’s the reason why talk radio and blogs work so well around here: There’s always something to complain about.

So as the World Series hangover continues to fade and we become a little bit more lucid each day, some things that have been gnawing at me for a while need to be expressed, if only for my own personal catharsis:

Sixers fans should be ashamed of themselves
It’s been a roller coaster ride of a year, where expectations started high with the acquisition of Elton Brand, then shot down way low when a disappointing slump cost Maurice Cheeks his job and an unavoidable (but perhaps predictable) thud to the floor cost Brand his healthy shoulder and the rest of his season. After backing into the playoffs, it’s safe to say postseason expectations were even lower than last year’s bunch which scared a sleepwalking Detroit team into actually giving a damn just in time.

With that said, to badly paraphrase an old local icon who himself has recently helped to lower his own expectations: We’re talking playoffs now. Not a game. Playoffs.

So for a city with such an enormous basketball tradition, with such a traditionally loyal and passionate following, to see chunks of open seats at a home playoff game is simply inexcusable.

This isn’t Miami or Los Angeles, where the fair-weathered fans crawl out of their fake, plastic shells to come out in droves when it matters. This is Philly, where heart, drive, determination and character go a long way. It’s the land of Rocky, where we love to see the underdog take continuous shots to the gut and keep bouncing back. It shouldn’t matter whether or not we believe our boys are going to win this fight. The fact that they’re fighting it should make all the difference in the world.

The Phillies’ luck is wearing out
Okay, if one team in town gets a mulligan right now, it’s these guys. But with that said, how they have a winning record at this point when yesterday was the first time all season they won again without being behind, without needed to resuscitate themselves in the ninth inning, is beyond me. Yesterday was also the first real quality start by a pitcher – 17 games in – and it had to come from a guy practically on Social Security.

Luckily, the rest of the division is either underachieving (Mets, Braves), coming back to earth (Marlins) or sucked to begin with (Natiionals). Last season, this team never really dominated, but got hot at the best possible time and rode that wave of momentum all the way to the finish line. But this current ensemble, very much the same as that one – can’t expect to catch lightning in a bottle twice – certainly not with this starting pitching rotation laid out as it is right now.

The Eagles have done well this offseason
Now why would I hate to say something as positive as this? Probably because, in recent years, this organization has become so divisive to its fanbase that we run into the paradoxical conflict of loving the team and despising how its run. We find ourselves so close to tasting success, only to come up with a mouthful of crap every time. We don’t appreciate a perceived quasi-effort to win it all from a team which hasn’t done so in nearly a half-century, especially when the opportunities to go all-in at the table and clean house seem to be there. And when the cards are folded, we really don’t appreciate getting patronized as to why it made more sense to do so.

With that said, it’s hard to complain about what the team has done. Boldin or no Boldin, Edwards or no Edwards, Gonzalez or no Gonzalez, The Birds’ brass went out and filled the needs we were craving to be filled. There were no high picks needlessly spent on O-Lineman and D-Lineman to add to the redundant roles already filling out the roster. Running and receiving slots – too often passed over as non-essential by Reid, Banner and the boys, were addressed. Yes, contract drama remains with disgruntled players (fastly becoming an annual tradition), but this time around, we’ll give them some leeway for heeding our call.

The Flyers may be coming the new Eagles
How many times lately have the Flyers now fallen short in the postseason because of the same reasons: Lack of defensive depth and lack of a clutch goaltender? True, management here usually doesn’t have a problem opening up its wallet for whom they believe was the right fit, but the prior two areas were simply not addressed going into this season. The departure of Jason Smith hurt times two, because his talent nor his proven leadership were completely replaced.

And it’s been clear to many for a while now that Marty Biron is of the good-not-great mold where he is unable to stand on his head a win a couple on his own in the playoffs, seemingly a requisite lately for Stanley Cup winners – unless of course you have crazy offensive talent like the Red Wings, which the Flyers do not.

So now that it’s all been said, I can relax a little…and begin searching for the next thing to bitch about…

More than a voice, Harry the K was Philly

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

Another piece of my childhood was taken away today.

My first love of baseball combined with my first legitimate career aspiration of sports broadcasting. My favorite announcer from my favorite team.

Harry the K wasn’t supposed to die. He was supposed to be immortal. Can anyone really picture a Phillies season taking place without him? Can we really picture a history that moves forward without that silky smooth baritone being a part of it?

Can we ever hear the song “High Hopes” again without getting emotional?

Like the late great Richie “Whitey” Ashburn before him, their life and death spark many similarities. One of the most distinct voices of all time, Kalas, like Whitey – although not a native to the area – became Philadelphia. And, like Whitey, he died while on the road with the team. And, like Whitey, he became a long overdue inductee into the Hall of Fame, years after he should have been.

Harry and Whitey also bring me back to some of my earliest childhood memories: Watching a game with my dad on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Or putting my ear by my clock radio in bed, listening to the witty banter of them both on a soft, crackling broadcast during a west coast trip, long after bedtime had passed.

But he was more than just Phillies’ baseball. That voice was ubiquitous. Whether it was the highlights on NFL films, a Campbell’s Soup commercial or a football play-by-play on Westwood One Radio (where he was sorely underrated), hearing him brought us an air of familiarity and comfort.

Harry’s legend lives far past the Delaware Valley. There are only a handful of baseball voices that will stand the test of time, and Kalas stands near the top of the list: Carey, Scully, Uecker, Buck, Harwell… Kalas fits in there, easy.

He was far more than just a voice, too. He was family. And based on everything I’ve heard, he was an even better human being than he was a broadcaster.

So when the Phillies won the World Series last year, you had to feel especially prideful for Harry. In 1980, when the team won its first championship, Kalas was benched because of an asinine rule – mercifully changed three years later – that local broadcasters were forbidden to call World Series games. Therefore, a Brad Lidge strikeout provided him his one and only opportunity to make the pinnacle call in sports after 38 years with the club.

As I type this, my mind is going through a historical chronology of the voice that will never die with him:

- “Long drive, deep center field… could it be… that ball’s…. OUTTA HERE!”
- “Swing and a miss, struck-im-out!”
- “Can you believe it?!”

Or how he made players’ names his own:

- “Michael-Jack-Schmidt.”
- “Mick-ee Mor-an-dee-nee” (In fact, the more syllables, the better he drew out the name)
- “Wahn Sahm-well” (AKA: Juan Samuel)

Or his playfull nicknames:

- “Inky-Dinky-Doo”
- “Mitchy-Poo”

It was also fitting that he died in his sanctuary – the broadcast booth – poised to do once more, like 6,000-plus times before, what he loved most and did best: Call a Phillies game.

Today, the microphone went silent. And another part of my childhood has ceased to exist. But although Harry Kalas has passed away, his voice will live forever.

Rest in peace, Harry the K. And send Whitey our regards.

Why I love sports? Let me count the ways...

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

My fiancé doesn’t understand. Neither does my mother. Nor countless others who don’t understand the true meaning of passion.

They don’t get why I yell at inanimate objects such as my television. Why the outcome of something as trivial as a game can affect my mood for the rest of the day (or, depending on the stakes, a full week).

They are baffled by how I can spend hours on end sifting through news and stats on the internet. Or how I can remember the career home run total for Mike Schmidt (548) but still have no clue how to compile my taxes.

And they certainly feel I should seek help for spending wads of cash on a make-believe team in a league that has the word “fantasy” in it.

But if they got it, they’d understand. To paraphrase “White Men Can’t Jump,” they may be able to hear Jimi, but they can’t listen. In other words, they may be able to see sports, but they can’t visualize.

So for all of you out there also struggling to help your significant other/parent/sibling/friend/coworker/accountant understand, I’ve compiled my own list of reasons why sports create so much passion:

- A no-hitter after six innings and the tension-filled excitement after each ensuing pitch.

- March Madness: The single most fun thing to know nothing about and gamble everything on.

- An underdog upset: A class David vs. Goliath matchup to give hope to the hopeless.

- Tailgating – barbeque, beer, washers and all – hours before gametime.

- A doubleheader on a lazy, sunny afternoon.

- Courtside seats.

- Ringside seats.

- Any venue seating over 100,000 people. The panoramic view looking around at the sea of endless people from a spot like Michigan Stadium (115,000 capacity) or Indianapolis Motor Speedway (Over 200,000).

- Seats up against the glass, taunting distance from the penalty box.

- Catching a foul ball.

- A buzzer-beating shot.

- Playoff overtime in hockey.

- A “home away from home” sports bar (Example: The Parrot in Fort Lauderdale, a Philly-owned bar on the beach where Delaware Valley expatriates flock to regularly any time a game is on. Plus, perhaps the best cheesesteaks south of the Mason-Dixie line).

- Super Bowl parties.

- Punts and kickoffs returned for touchdowns.

- Mammoth, measuring-tape home runs.

- And, finally, at long last, one I can finally speak for and understand firsthand: Championship parades!

So can you visualize yet?

(And did I miss any? Feel free to add on!)

This week in Philadelphia sports email chatter (Part Two)

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

From: Matt
Sent: Tuesday, December 02, 2008 10:36 PM
To: Jeff
Subject: RE: It goes well!

I had to look up Ibanez, as he may be the most obscure guy who's hit at least 20 hr, 100 RBI the last 3 years. I can barely pciture him; he is 36, as you mentioned, but may not be a bad move. Better career numbers than I thought. Would you take him over Rocco Mediate, er, Baldelli, if the latter's healthy? Hey, you remember the infamous Slim Pickens? He'd be the best yodeler in MLB.Either Burnett or Lowe would be great. I'd probably prefer the younger power pitcher, but would happily take either.

Flyers won in overtime - whoulda thunkit. Richards and Carter huge again.

Sixers: Is Lou Williams taking a step back, or just getting off to a slow start? He's been very disappointing so far this year. Maybe, he's got the star mentality, and not reacting well to still playing under 20 mins/night? Likable, bright guy with lots of talent; hope he bounces back strong.
Matt

From: Jeff
Subject: RE: It goes well!
To: Matt
Date: Wednesday, December 3, 2008, 9:04 PM

Baldelli’s a big health risk, though I’d be satisfied with either one, since they’d both give an instant power threat off the bench and/or a power platoon to Jayson Werth. Although, technically, we were supposed to have something like that already with Geoff Jenkins. And another much cheaper version in Matt Stairs. But we’ll see.

Yeah, they can win in OT. But a shootout’s a different story!

Frankly, as impressed as I was with Maurice Cheeks’ coaching ability last season, I’m just as disappointed so far now. Yes, Williams if off to a slow start, but he’s also getting sporadic minutes and not much of an opportunity to build some momentum. I’m sure Mo is simply frustrated with his players and trying to find a right combination, but there also needs to be some consistent PT that he doles out to his guys. Williams was terrific as a 6th man last season who provided a spark off the bench and could keep the opposing ‘D’ on its toes. He’s not getting those same chances this year and thus it’s affected his aggressiveness on the court.

And then came gameday…

From: Jeff
Subject: RE: It goes well!
To: Matt
Date: Sunday, December 7, 2008, 4:17 PM

The only thing I can say after today is, has it really taken Andy Reid ten years to realize that everyone is right and he is wrong about the importance of the running game? The past two games have been two of the most efficiently run offenses the Eagles have had in years. Yes, efficient - not explosive. Just like the kind of offense the team on the losing side of things today used to win the Super Bowl last year.

Part of me feels that there may have been some sort of ultimatum conveyed to Big Red behind closed doors by the Powers That Be after the Ravens debacle. Because what has been done these past two weeks is simply what 90 percent of the Deleware Valley has been pleading for for about a decade or so.

Play just like this for the remainder of the season (minus the Akers' line drives) and they win out - and just maybe sneak into the playoffs after all. But can the intelligent playcalling really last that long?

From: Matt
Sent: Sunday, December 07, 2008 6:03 PM
To: Jeff
Subject: RE: It goes well!

It was an unusual game. I thought that our O and D lines would both get their asses kicked, and they did --but only for the first quarter. After that play that Westbrook bounced off the right side for the TD, our O line started to dominate. I was surprised, and gratified, to see that Reid stayed w/ the run after it didn't work at all for the first 8-10 carries, including the unsuccessful calls to DeSean.

Other notes:
- Eli was horrible, and worse than his final stats w/ that nothing drive. In fact, the Birds had really beaten the Giants 27-0 from scrimmage before that drive. Yeah, I know Hixon dropped that one. (Still, I was sweating that onside kick.)

- The refs sucked, especially on the PI calls and non-calls

- The two blocked FG's swung a net 13 points to the Giants, but we still got it done - w/ nothing froom DeSean.

- LJ looked like a player today; I doubt it's a trend

- I know the D played very well overall, but can they pick off a couple of those Eli wounded ducks (ahem, Assante) and can Q fall on that fumble?

- I still maintain that #5 is the best QB in the conference: Who would you want instead? Eli...nah...Romo (yet to win a truly big game, and should have huge stats w/ that team)...Brees (good, not great yet - what has he done yet?)...Warner (case can be made, but I don't see it)...Garcia? Delhomme? Hasselback?

- I'll take D-Mac...(I may trade him for a Matt Ryan, given his youth)

- Atlanta losing was big; I hope the Steelers offense freakin' does something. If the Cowboys lose, playoff destiny is just one more Falcons loss away, if the cowgirls lose.

From: Jeff
Subject: RE: It goes well!
To: Matt
Date: Sunday, December 7, 2008, 9:26 PM

Can't say I agree with your assessment on McNabb. Although, upon further review, the talent level of QBs in the NFC right now is pretty f'ing atrocious. The Drew Brees/Matt Ryan matchup today may have pitted the two best against each other (and as far as what Brees has done...quick, name a receiver on the Saints! Yeah, not that easy. Plus, their running game is very subpar this year. Now look at Brees' stats. Case closed.) So, I'd put the following ahead of McNabb in the NFC:

- Ryan
- Brees
- Jason Campbell (He's just simply getting the job done. Very efficient and, therefore, effective).
- Kurt Warner

And yes, I must say, after the Cowboys loss, that it's looking more like the Eagles can control their own playoff destiny just by winning out. Now which of the final three games will they blow it?

This week in Philadelphia sports email chatter (Part One)

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

Even in this seemingly down period in Philly sports, avid fans can always seem to find something to mull over. Case in point: My back-and-forth email correspondence with my friend Matt this week. It’s amazing how much can be covered during several minute intervals after work during my email/website “rotation.”

Here’s “Part One” of said conversation:

From: Matt
Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 4:58 AM
To: Jeff Glauser
Subject: How goes it?

Hey Jeff,

How's everything with you, including (I hope) a good T/G weekend?

OK, on to a quick sports discussion, however one-sided right now:

College Football: No strong feelings, as I just haven't seen enough games. Do you have a preference for the title game?

NHL: Ah, too many more games left. Flyers just seem like a team that will win one, and only one, playoff series.

Sixers: Can it be that the pieces don't fit, that we still can't make an outside shot, that Sammy (LJ) Dalembert can't play, and that Iggy at 2 just doesn't work? It's way too soon to count them out, but in a slightly improved East, we better get to the all-Star break at least 5 or so games over .500.

Eagles: Okay, I never fell off the bandwagon, but I am part of the chorus who want the Reid (especially the GM/Head Coach/Playcalling Andy) era to finish here. Do I get encouraged that he changed it up w/ a balanced attack Thursday, or do I pin at least two of the losses (Chicago and chose one of Dallas, NYG, Wash) on his personnel decisions and mule-stubborn play-calling?
McNabb: I've always been a fan, but over the last two years, I've had many times where I've wanted him to move on to (Chi? Minn?) and stick it to the disturbingly high percentage of Philly fans who have underestimated how good he has been, etc.

There's still that part of me that's dying to see him lead a 5-0 stretch drive and at least one playoff win, which may or may not be enough to keep him around anyway.

What I would have done, post-Bengals: At the time, I said that I would play McNabb till they get to 6 losses, as that would eliminate them. No, I wouldn't have pulled him from the Ravens game, despite the poor preceding game and a half. But still, I'll stick to my plan to put Kolb in once they get to 6 losses and that damned tie, even if that means doing so after next Sunday, if they go down to the Giants.

Path to the playoffs? Even if they beat the Giants - no mean feat, as they say - they're probably at least 5-1 to win out. And if they make it to 10-5-1, they probably are still 5-1 or so to make the playoffs

Okay, enough insomnia-inspired chatter...enjoy the day, and respond if/when you like.
Matt

From: Jeff
Subject: It goes well!
To: Matt
Date: Monday, December 1, 2008, 11:46 AM

Everything good here, including another gluttonous Turkey Day! But what are you doing writing this at 4-something in the morning?! Sports-related emails shouldn’t be keeping you up – that’s your little boy’s job!

But, to respond:

College Football: Knowledge and interest will remain limited until they finally do the sport justice and switch to a playoff system. Otherwise, my preference for the title game will remain the “forgotten” undefeated schools, such as Boise State (yet again), Utah, and Ball State.

Flyers: I can’t argue with your Flyers’ assessment. Too many holes on defense (offseason subtractions like Jason Smith seem to hurt) and not one really feared offensive player, though Gagne has recovered nicely and Carter finally showing signs of living up to his potential. But is it just me or whenever they get to a shootout, it feels like you can chalk it up as another loss?

Sixers: I’m most disappointed with them so far. I had them as a near 50-win team going into the season. Perhaps there was a reason that teams with Brand never won in the past. They seem utterly confused on offense right now. Iguadala seems like he never recovered mentally after his atrocious showing in the playoffs and doesn’t have that confidence/swagger about him anymore. Cheeks’ rotation is inconsistent – I believe he needs to give his bench shooters (Rush, Marshall, et al) more PT, since no one else CAN shoot! I also agree that Iggy seems out of place at the 2. But Young fits well at the 3 and seems to have more upside at this point. So what can be done other than a trade? And we just overpaid him with an undeserved contract extension in the offseason (ghost of Billy King?)!

Eagles: Reid’s dismissal would be about three years overdue at this point. If McNabb plays like he did on Thursday – mainly, staying cool in the pocket and trusting his mobility (i.e., running when necessary to keep the D on its toes), then I can feel comfortable sticking with him.

However, the chances of that happening are not very good. And I’m one who believes Big Red and his playcalling is a big part of what’s holding Donovan back from doing what he used to do and still can do.

Yes, last week was fun to watch, but long overdue. Call a game similar to that all season and I have no doubt the Birds are probably 9-3 – at least – right now. Poor offensive execution and playcalling was their main Achilles Heal in losses to the Bears, Redskins and the tie to the Bengals (also with the Ravens, but that was an across-the-board disappointment). Poor decision-making late in the game to the Giants and Cowboys also cost them.

Frankly, Phillies hot-stove talk could turn out to be the most optimistic chatter this winter! Any thoughts on that?
J-
P.S.: Get some sleep!

From: Matt
Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 9:48 PM
To: Jeff Subject:
Re: It goes well!

Well...the little boy keeps me up once in awhile, when my own insomnia isn't.
Quick replies on selected responses:

NCAA-F: Absolutely, a playoff system is needed, and just like w/ March Madness, I'd like more of the little guys and mid-major types (a la that strange team w/ the blue turf) to have more of a shot than they get at either)

Hockey - Yeah, they aren't too good at the ol' shootout, even that memorable one against the Pens when Biron was brilliant, but they still lost.

Sixers -- Well said. Perhaps, Iggy would flourish better elsewhere...but you're right, what can we get back w/ that huge salary of his?

Phils -- I can live w/ Burrell leaving, if we make a commitment to spend that $ wisely. Werth, Victorino and who do you think in left? How worried are you about Chase's hip?

Sleep? Yeah, occasionally.

From: Jeff
Subject: RE: It goes well!
To: Matt
Date: Tuesday, December 2, 2008, 9:15 PM

Pretty much slim pickens in the outfield free agent market (in fact, I believe Slim Pickens is available right now). Seems the best fit would be Raul Ibanez. He’s older, but we can probably get him for cheap. He still has some pop and apparently is a good locker room guy. I also like Felipe Lopez as a solid utility guy, but he’s been a starter for the past five years and may not be amenable to a lesser role at this time.

I also keep hearing about the Phils’ interest in A.J. Burnett and Derek Lowe – I’d be ecstatic with either. Burnett gives the team a power pitcher presence (more reliable than Myers, too) and Lowe simply keeps the ball down. Pick up those three and maybe one more reliable reliever and they could be primed for a repeat!

Eagles writing a script of indifference

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

Today, the Eagles kissed their sister (just on the cheek, so it was nothing incestuous).

And fans like myself responded in kind – indifference.

There was a game today, and yet from the very beginning the Birds had no other option but to blow out the Bengals in order to avoid the ensuing mass nothingness from its followers. But what happened was it played out like a really predictable movie: No peaks and valleys, no rising action, no climax and for the first time since 2002 in the NFL, no resolution, either.

My college film professor would have been really pissed. Yet I wasn’t.

At no point in the game did I jump for joy, nor at any juncture did I attempt to throw something out of frustration. Usually, both occur multiple times throughout the course of a given contest.

And that’s what this season has come to – a whole bunch of nothing special. Apathy is the name of the game when the game seems to be coached that way.

Frankly, it was all very fitting. Because if they had lost, at least there would be some emotion that resulted. And emotion – be it negative or positive – is still a positive thing. It means there’s an investment in the team, a vested interest, something to hang your hat on.

Meanwhile, Andy Reid and Donovan McNabb teamed up to play color by numbers again, as millions of onlookers in the Greater Philadelphia Region and beyond would witness a 3rd and short situation, say to themselves, “You know, it would make perfect sense to execute a QB sneak, so they probably won’t,” time and time again – and be proven correct each time.

I now look at a team like the Miami Dolphins, a putrid franchise not very long ago, now throwing every gadget play but the kitchen sink at the opposing squad week in and week out, and I feel a bit envious. They do not have more talent than the Birds, though their record is now better. They most likely will not be a playoff contender – and yet it doesn’t matter. They are fun to watch and are only getting better.

Meanwhile, the Eagles are neither. They are boring, predictable and stagnant.

With six games to go, there’s not much to look forward to. They’re too good to tank it the rest of the way to position themselves for a high draft pick (which would inevitably go toward another lineman anyway). They’re not good enough to hope for something special in January.

Purgatory sucks.

Meanwhile, we’re left to watch the rest of the movie play out just the way it’s begun. No refunds on these tickets. Get some more popcorn to occupy yourself and then sit patiently, waiting for the credits to finally come up on this season.

Unless, of course, you enjoy kissing your sister.

One victory, one column 25 years in the waiting

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

I’ve been waiting 25 years to write this. And now that the time has come, I’m not sure how to do it. It just feels a little too surreal right now.

But I’ll give it my best shot; just start typing and see what comes out…

You see, the world makes a little bit more sense today.

There's finally a rewarding destination at the end of this painful journey filled with heartbreak and disappointment. And now the sun shines a little brighter today. Hell, the sun is actually shining today period, which is miraculous in and of itself lately!

The scene that I witnessed last night, outside of Citizen’s Bank Park at 10:00, in the madness of the surrounding parking lots at 11:00, mingling with thousands of elated people, drunk on life as well as beer, wandering aimlessly down Broad Street toward City Hall, well into the early morning hours, giving and receiving hugs and high-fives to hundreds of strangers, people from all walks of life whom are more accustomed on most days to wallow in their own self pity… well, it was something that even the greatest writers could struggle to put into acceptable words.

It was also something that, up until then, I’ve only viewed secondhand, on TV, wistfully wishing, wanting, waiting… and as the years turned to decades, it began to feel that this viewpoint would be the one fated for me for eternity.

But, suddenly, the demons have been exorcised. The Curse of Billy Penn can rest in peace. The ’64 Collapse, Whiz Kids, Wheez Kids and Black Friday no longer sting as much for the older folks. For me, Mitch Williams is now completely exonerated, and years from now will be known more for his outstanding baseball analysis in town than for his misplaced, soul-crushing pitches. Hell, Joe Carter can have his glory now, too.

And in one night, one victory which will culminate in one incredible party this Friday, can be dedicated to many who have trudged through this interminable path along the way.

This one is for Brett Myers. A hot prospect with a wicked curve frustrated fans for years by not living up to his potential, both on the field and off. Finally finding his niche as a reliever went short lived when the starting rotation remained short on talent. Came back as the Opening Day starter, a de facto ace, he struggled once more, this time to such an extent that he was forced to swallow his pride – as well as an enormous piece of humble pie – and head back to the minors. The struggles continued there and Myers essentially was deemed a non-factor in the forthcoming push for the playoffs.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the finish line: The Myers we always knew existed but never were convinced could perform, did just that. And then some. His heart finally overcame his head.

This one is for Jimmy Rollins and Pat Burrell. The two with the longest tenures here. Drafted while the franchise was still in laughing-stock mode. The identity of this team through thick and thin – both cool, calm and collected, with the occasional burst of enthusiasm.

And for Pat the Bat, as disappointing as his tenure here may have been at times, his last at-bat in a Phillies uniform may have occurred last night, and if it did, it was only two inches away from being poetically ideal – a thunderous blast which was ironically held up by the winds in the alleged band box of a ballpark, settling in for a double which would eventually set up the Series-winning run.

This one is for Ryan Howard, who has endured a love-hate relationship with the fans from the first time he put on the Cursive P: Love the raw talent, hate the nonchalant approach. Love the homers, hate the strikeouts. Love the clutch hits, hate the klutz defense. But in the end, love conquers all, and we love the fact that he took part in turning the team into champions.

This one is for Cole Hamels. It’s funny to say that, for a guy who was the bar none best pitcher on a championship team yet only had 14 wins in a full season, that it was a certain victory each time he stepped on the mound, but that’s how it felt. And the postseason may just have been his coming-out party, the moment when he went from very good to historically great.

This one is for Jamie Moyer. As we speak, I’m certain that Disney is in the process of buying the rights to his story. Jamie got to take part in both of the two World Series championships in this team’s 125 year history – one as a spectator, the other as a contributor. Never one with dominating stuff, he’s somehow lasted 22 years and well over 200 victories at the big league level. And at 45 – almost 46 – years old came one of his better seasons. “Invincible” and “Rocky” have nothing on him.

This one is for Brad Lidge. Written off as damaged goods after serving a deflating home run in the National League Championship Series, the man with the devastating slider was predicted to never be the same again. In his first season with his new team, his fresh start, he was simply perfect. Literally. Not one blown save.

In fact, this one’s for all the relievers. For how many years was this crew deemed to be the Achilles’ Heel? Instead, they were more solid this season than the Gibraltor-esque statues of Schmitty, Whitey, Robin and Lefty which linger outside the Bank.

This one is most definitely for Charlie Manuel. Say what you want about Uncle Cholly (and I’ve certainly said my share), but it turns out that he was the perfect man for these players. He masterfully brought together a group of fragile egos, even as he struggled to master proper syntax. An amazing contradiction to the MENSA applicant sitting in the opponent’s dugout during the World Series, Charlie proved that substance truly does win out over style in the end.

But, most of all, and most selfishly, this one is for us, the fans. And the fact that the deal was sealed on our home grounds was only right.

It’s also for me, personally.

You see, on Oct. 31, the day of the largest parade that’ll ever be thrown, will mark 25 years to the day that I moved to this area. Yes, Oct. 31, 1983 was Day One of the ghoulish suffering I would come to bear as a fledgling, 6 year-old brand-spanking-new Philly sports fan, a fourth generation one at that.

And now Halloween will no longer be as scary.

However, both sides of my family dating back to great grandparents have called these grounds their home. And when my father brought he and his family back to his native dwellings after years away, it was a chance for him to relive his passion for Philly sports – a passion he passed on to his son – up close again.

Memories of watching and playing baseball with my dad are some of the most vivid I still have left of him. In 1987, four years after moving back to the Delaware Valley, he passed away, and never did have the opportunity to celebrate a World Series with his son.

So yes, this one is for my dad, too.

And generations before him, to boot. It’s very likely my father’s father’s father had felt the pain I felt, and cried in his Prohibition beer after another disappointing loss at the Baker Bowl.

But now those tears have dried. Now there is a dawn to a new day, a new era. Now a city which has long suffered, long carried the burden of being labeled in such ways as “loser,” and “disgruntled” bears a new brand to wear proudly on its chest:

Winner.

Cinderella? No - Happily Ever After Will Do

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

This is not a special team.

At no point this season did I ever get that feeling that the 2008 version of the Phillies was going to take us where no area team in the past quarter century has taken us before.

There have arguably been more talented teams, deeper teams, since then. There have certainly been clubs with more personality (try to find more than a couple players on this roster who don’t have permanent bite marks on their tongues).

Last night was obviously not the makings of a championship team.

And you wanna know something? So freaking what!

If these guys find a way to somehow pull it out, will a big-ass parade on Broad Street be any less sweet because they never reached “Team of Destiny” status?

Hell no.

There is no need for rags to riches, fairy tales or soap opera dramas. In fact, the first two games of the World Series were, admittedly, boring for the most part (any time Eric Bruntlet and Carlos Ruiz are your offensive heroes – at ANY point – is never encouraging).

But that’s fine, too. Like a girl who’s been dating a guy with commitment issues for 25 years, we don't need excitement - we just need a ring. And we need it now.

(Upon further review, that wasn’t the manliest of analogies there. But again, so freaking what. Now I’ll digress.)

Not to say there isn’t a storyline here: The losingest professional team of the 20th Century versus the losingest team of the 21st. One World Series victor in 125 years versus one winning season in 13.

The fact that those obnoxious chumps from Boston are sitting home versus the fact that those phonies from L.A. have long since hopped off the bandwagon again.

It’s a sad state of affairs when we live in a town where its runners-up have just as much – if not more – folklore than its champs (See: ’93 Phils, ’01 Sixers, ’04 Eagles). Perhaps it’s because we need something to hold onto. If we can’t afford a nice pair of Oakleys, it’s still somewhat reassuring to wear a nice pair of Foakleys, right?

I must confess, though: It was extremely difficult for me to come to this conclusion. It was hard for me to become emotionally invested in a squad that never provided the stereotypical image of being a true contender, one with so many maddening shortcomings. And when the stars of the team always look like they wish they were anywhere but the Delaware Valley, that’s never a good thing.

But lately, my denial has dissipated. I’m thinking big picture now. It’s the end result which matters most, not the journey. If the ’93 club was mullet-and-personality free yet a Joe Carter longball was nowhere to be found, would we think any less of them? Au contraire!

After all this time I've come to terms that we don't need a special team. We just need a team that can make it to the Promised Land for the first time since Moses took us there.

After 25 years, we don't need a Cinderella story. We just need a success story.

2008 Phanatic Season Predictions

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

Okay, I’m a little late. And perhaps there’s a slight benefit of foresight here. Slight. One week head starts do not lessen the abilities of true soothsayers. Of which I’m not. But if I was, it wouldn’t.

Anyhow, here are my predictions (oh, and no need to look at my Super Bowl picks last year. Really. No point. Please don’t.):

NFC Division Winners:
Cowboys (Yes, this pains me, but a team this stacked coached by Wade Phillips is built for the regular season. The postseason? That’s left to be determined)

Packers (Last I checked, the only key offseason loss for them was a 38 year-old QB who threw a lot of picks. Yes, a Hall of Famer at that, but there must be a reason they’ve held on to his successor for this long)

Saints (Bounceback year. Should prove that last year was the fluke, not two years ago. Fairly solid – if not spectacular - across the board.)

Cardinals (Simply because one of these years I have to be right on this sleeper pick and the Seahawks don’t impress me at all)

Wild Card:
Eagles (10-6 seems about right. Like the Saints, no true superstars other than B-West, and a young defense filled with potential. But can they create turnovers?)

Vikings (Tarvaris Jackson scares me, but if the Bears could ride a Rex Grossman to the Super Bowl... There’s some impressive talent here.)

AFC Division Winners:
Patriots (No explanation necessary. Though the rest of the division improved, not by nine games.

Steelers (By process of elimination. This might be the weakest division this year.)

Colts: (See Patriots. Older and not as dominant, but still enough weapons to cause damage.)

Chargers (Another usual suspect. Older is better in this case – and so is a chip on their shoulder. Even with a banged-up Merriman, the defense is downright scary, and plenty of weapons remain on offense.)

Wild Card:
Jets (Yes, Favre helps, but moreso the upgrades at defense and O-Line)

Titans (Every year, they simply find ways to win just enough to be respectable. Fisher is one of the best in the business of getting the most out of his players.)

Conference Championships: Saints over Cowboys; Chargers over Patriots

Super Bowl: Chargers over Saints

Thoughts? Praises? Insults? Send a comment!

Boo who? Us – and here’s why

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

It’s a sound that’s become - fairly or not - synonymous with the culture of Philadelphia sports.

It’s a longstanding tradition, evolving from the days of yore, reverberating from the ghosts of the Vet past to the Bank of present day. Stories are legendary, growing more extraordinary as the years pass, as folklore often does.

So I wanted to set the record straight because there’s a very good chance that the once-local demigod J-Roll is going to hear his least favorite sound upon his return to town tomorrow, one that has defined us as a fan base for quite some time, and one that, for those who are not from here, struggle at times to comprehend.

And one that especially seems to hurt the feelings of poor millionaire athletes who’ve been coddled and caressed for so long that they are appalled at even the thought of being criticized en masse.

Boo!

Did I scare you? Because it seems to scare them.

But for those who can’t comprehend why on earth this nastiness would be directed at them – the hometown players, the good guys, for gosh sakes! – please allow me to explain:

We boo because there is no tolerance for complacency or underachievers in this hard-working, blue-collar town.

We boo because we’re incredulous that some people find it so difficult to hustle 90 feet to first every time and show up to play a game on time.

We boo because we’re incredulous that your teammates aren’t as incredulous as we are about this.

We boo because, although simply switching allegiances may be easier, it’s not an option.

(And do you know why it’s not an option, Mr. Rollins? Because we’re not “frontrunners.” Frontrunners have no pride. We have plenty - perhaps too much - of it.)

We boo for retribution for the ghosts of our past: for the collapse of ‘64, Black Friday and Mitch Williams’ meatballs placed in front of Joe Carter.

(And yes, Jimmy, we realize you weren’t here for any of that. But if you can’t realize that history means something in sports, you were obviously never a true fan yourself.)

We boo because, after 10,000 losses, it’s still easier (and manlier) than crying.

We boo because first place teams with two MVPs and a potential one shouldn’t be batting a collective .253 on the year.

We boo because politely cheering for “almost” getting it done won’t send the message that “almost” is no longer acceptable.

(Plus, showing gratitude for failing is just plain silly. If you were our children with fragile egos, that’s understandable. But just acting like you are isn’t.)

We boo because people like Schilling, Rolen and Drew shouldn’t have rings.

We boo because people like Ferguson Jenkins and Ryne Sandberg should have had their Hall of Fame careers here.

We boo because people like Adam Eaton, Wes Helms, Freddy Garcia and countless others should have never had careers here.

We boo because minor league hockey, arena football and lacrosse aren't good enough.

We boo because it's safer than, ahem, throwing snowballs or batteries.

We boo in fear. Fear that this nightmare may never end.

Admittedly, we boo out of jealousy, too. Most of us can’t even dream big enough to fathom your salaries. And even if we could, we’re too busy busting our asses in our 50-plus hour a week jobs trying to pay the mortgage and put food on the table.

Yes, we’re worried about making it in life. You’re worried about your feelings getting hurt.

Simply enough, we boo because we care.

And we boo because you deserve it.

What I've learned in June

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

Thirty days.

It’s a relatively short period of time that can seem like an eternity, especially if it’s that long until you graduate, give birth or get paroled.

But, as I found out, much can be learned in that time span within the world of sports – some surprising, some uplifting, some obvious (although further confirmation was provided).

Overall, I’ve learned that a month is plenty of time to acquire new insight – particularly if it’s been far longer than that since I’ve written anything and felt the need to share something, regardless of how contrived it might seem.

Therefore, this is some of what I’ve learned during the month of June:

That respect for tradition is not completely lost.
In an age where professional sports have generally regressed to a business as opposed to the evolving piece of nostalgia meant to honor those who transcended the game beforehand, thus allowing the stars of today to make the obscene amounts of money that they do, it’s reassuring to see that there’s still some semblance of hope for the future.

(It’s also reassuring to see that I’m still capable of writing 59-word sentences which wax poetic and don’t qualify as “run-on.”)

Exhibit A: The NBA Championship. Yes, simply having the Celtics vs. the Lakers participate meant it was a no-brainer that the glory days of the rivalry would be constantly evoked in conversation. But it’s what occurred immediately following the Celtics’ victory that impressed me most: Mega-star and future Hall of Famer Kevin Garnett - who doesn’t have to defer to anyone now that he possesses that long-elusive ring - sought out legend Bill Russell in the midst of a center court celebration.

The brief exchange culminated in a simple, yet powerful, statement by KG: “I hope we made you proud.”

That the Phillies are not ready for prime time – if prime time means facing American League competition.
The bubble was bound the burst sooner or later, right? And boy did it. The fact that the Phils remain in first place after the 15-game freefall from grace is miraculous in and of itself.

The problem lies here:

It’s a safe bet that Ryan Howard will eventually come around, jack a bunch of moonshots and get his average to at least a respectable level. It’s quite probable that Jimmy Rollins will go on some sort of tear, as well. And Chase Utley is Chase Utley and will inevitably get back to MVP form.

But don’t true MVP’s get it done when it matters?

The Phillies had a chance to make a statement to the world this month. Additionally, they had a chance to take advantage of the mediocrity which has been the rest of the NL East and gain some breathing room.

Instead, they did neither. And with a lineup that hits better statistically than it does strategically, combined with a starting rotation hanging on by a thread and a relief staff living in an extended dreamland, it’s strongly suggested that fans keep their Maalox in close proximity this summer.

That playing it safe may work in the draft for the Sixers, but sure as hell won’t work in free agency.
Choosing Marreese Speights was an easier decision than trying to spell his name. And that’s fine (although who woulda thunk Billy King would hit jackpot on the then-anonymous Thaddeus Young last year?).

However, the conservative approach in the free agency market won’t cut it.

Local product Ed Stefanski knows how the dynamic of the local fan works here. He knows we’ve waited far too long to move beyond the absurd-contract-purgatory mess that King left us in. He knows that, after salary dumping fan favorite (and the team’s only reliable shooter) Kyle Korver, that we expect something big in return.

Therefore, he also knows that if a name such Brand/Smith/Davis/Okafor/et al isn’t wearing the team’s colors shortly, he should consider new real estate and an alias.

That the Flyers excel at being extremely busy at doing nothing too groundbreaking.
Is it a good thing they have made about 12 trades and signings in the past week and I’ve never really heard of most of the people coming or going?

The team made incredible strides this past year to get back to respectability and the initial thoughts are that the mass signings of obscure defensemen may be an indication that lassoing a big name may not be in the cards this summer. Never one to pinch pennies, Ed Snider gets the benefit of the doubt, as does Paul Holmgren after steering the turnaround. But now that the taste of success is back, the area will be hungering for some more signs of momentum soon.

That, at this point, the Eagles could be 10-6 or 6-10 this season and neither would surprise me.
I’d say more, but I’m going to “plead the Reid” at this time and leave you hanging.

Where For Art Thou, Iggy?

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

Games 1 and 3, it somehow didn't matter.

Game 2 was such a thrashing in every which way, so it was irrelevant.

This time, it became unavoidable.

The cold, hard reality is this: Andre Iguadala is the reason the Sixers lost this game - and the reason why they may lose this series.

Granted, there were plenty of things that did not go - and have not gone Philly's way: giving up way too many second chance opportunities to the Pistons, the maddening collective ineptitude at the free throw line, the inability to defend and shoot the three (ironically, salary dump Kyle Korver would look quite nice about now) and f'ing Tayshaun Prince (and guess who guarded him?).

But, when it all comes down to what matters, go-to guys are supposed to go, and Andre has been stuck at a red light for far too long.

Whether it’s poor shot selections, ill-advised passes or a chronic case of butterfingers, it’s clear that No. 9 is not ready for prime time. What started as a simple, understandable slump has become an avert-your-eyes-and-cringe kind of train wreck.

He came into these playoffs with more promise than any other member of the squad. He took two steps forward this season and on more than several occasions, carried his teammates on his sturdy, high-flying back.

Sadly, those two steps forward have transformed into a giant leap backward here.

One can hope, especially now that Billy King – who used to toss lavish contract extensions around like Michael Jackson throws sleepovers – is no longer around, that Iguadala has at least saved the Sixers several million bucks over this past week to spend elsewhere.

Numbers don’t lie:

A nauseating 11 for 49 from the field. To put things into perspective, he went 4 for 16 tonight and actually raised his shooting percentage!

Over four turnovers per game.

A not-so-clutch 4 for 9 from the foul line at home tonight.

Needless to say, none of this screams “max contract.” Even to you, Billy.

Stars turn it up a notch when the stakes are raised. Contrary to my hopes and expectations, Andre Iguadala is not yet a star.

And that fact alone may have cost the Sixers a landmark upset.

Unimpressive play gives hope for hopeless series

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

Tonight’s Sixers’ game was, needless to say, exciting.

However, for me, it was not for the obvious reasons. Yes, simply making the playoffs this year can be considered playing with house money. And sure, very few people possessing sanity and logic figured them to have a shot to win at Detroit, if at all, much less have a series lead.

Instead, I’m excited because:

- Andre Iguadala, the go-to guy, played dreadfully on offense, consistently making poor shooting decisions.

- Sam Dalembert and Lou Williams were not much better.

- The Sixers were outhustled for most of the night.

- Free throw shooting once again almost proved to be their demise.

- Three point shooting, sans a Willie Green make, was non-existent.

(A recipe for success, eh?)

My point is not that I’m secretly plotting against my favorite team. It’s that the Sixers played a hesitant and overall sub-par game against one of the NBA’s elite squads and came out on top. It’s the fact that they were beating themselves for much of the game as opposed to getting beat and yet prevailed.

Yeah, yeah, Reggie Evans – typically offensive on offense – pulled a game out of his posterior region. And sure, Thaddeus Young looked anything but his name. But the fact is that the Sixers can play better than this. Yes, the Pistons can too (just ask Chauncey Billups, he of the automatic foul shot missing three down the stretch), but that doesn’t concern me as much.

Why? Because they just won a game they should have lost. And those of us who have watched this bunch during their unprecedented run these past few months know that they are due to win a game they should win, as well.

Which means this series goes at least six games. And if that game that they should win just so happens to happen on Wednesday, then it gets really interesting: A little thing called momentum comes into play.

It’s enough to give a fan some hope. Certainly not delusions of grandeur of a monumental upset at this point, but perhaps some saving grace that this thing might just be a lot more competitive than I once believed.

(With that said, let’s hope that we don’t see the same type of highlights that I previously noted – the chances of lightening striking Detroit twice is extremely rare.)

Baseball season already? Time to get our Phil(s)

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

Where did the time go?

Just six months ago, fresh off a disappointing cameo in the postseason, Philadelphia fans quickly looked up and shivered a bit at the local sporting prospects they faced between then and the time that pitchers and catchers reported.

It didn’t look pretty.

On one hand, they had a hockey team coming off the worst season in its franchise history.

On the other hand, they had a maddening football team that, only a month into the season, already showed signs of being just good enough to be competitive and just mediocre enough to remain home in January.

On the third hand (yeah, I know - just work with me here), they had a basketball team that… wait, they still had a basketball team?

Anyhow, as we know, the winter wasn’t so cruel to us, after all. The latter two teams have made surprise showings to give us hope for the future and the former team… well, they are the Gold Standard, right?

But what was once a forgone conclusion that a large bulk of the sports conversation in the Delaware Valley between October and April would pertain to the Phils, the defending division champs have largely flown under the radar. Yes, the one team that has actually proven itself in the recent past was basically forgotten about!

Last year, The Phanatic provided you “35 Reasons to Believe,” and included names like Randall Simon(!) as one of them. Yes, the Tonya Harding/Jeff Gillooly of wiener races made the cut.

This year? Nada. A vast emptiness of baseball chatter.

Does that mean that we simply expect great things this year, and it’s not necessary for a build-up?

Or, maybe, is there an uncomfortable feeling inside of us that we care not to talk about, like a kind of jinx which may transform our fears into reality?

The perennial skeptic that I am, I responded last year’s reasons to believe with reasons to “be-leery.” Regardless of how many of my reasons came to fruition (and many, in fact, did), the Phillies somehow still made it to October, so yes, I know where I could stick those reasons of mine.

This year, I’ll just call them simply “concerns.” Not predictions. Not damnations. Just “concerns.”

For example:

- Our No. 1 starter has never pitched a full year in health. Our No. 2 was a reliever last season and was not as good a starter as many of us recall. Our No. 3 is old enough to have fathered our No. 1 and 2 starters. Our No. 4 hasn’t pitched a full season yet and every time I think of our No. 5, I vomit a little bit in my mouth.

- Uncle Charlie STILL fills out the cards! Does that not scare you a little bit?

- The Mets got Santana this offseason. The Braves quietly got a lot better, as well. Did the Phillies improve as much as they did?

Again, just “concerns.” But sometimes concerns can become truths – a la the 2007 Phillies – and it still doesn’t matter. Perhaps that’s what we’ll see this year in order to repeat the excitement once more.

And now for my picks. I was hoping to put them off until Kenny Lofton got signed (since whatever team he’s been on over the past seven seasons – excluding his stint with the Phils – has made the playoffs), but, to no avail, as he remains unsigned.

NL Division Winners: Mets, Cubs, Dodgers
NL Wild Card: Braves

AL Division Winners: Red Sox, Tigers, Mariners
NL Wild Card: Yankees

World Series: Dodgers over Tigers (The Tigers have a sick batting lineup. The Dodgers are simply solid across the board. In the end, a shutdown bullpen, a resurgence by Andruw Jones and the steady leadership of Joe Torre prevails.)

I would love nothing more than to be proven wrong. Especially from the National League side. But, you know, I have these concerns…

Dear Coach Cheeks: I'm Sorry

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

Dear Mr. Cheeks,

First, allow me to say how much of a fan of yours I was when you were a player. While other Sixers loyalists of my generation would dole out their allegiances to larger than life figures such as Dr. J and Sir Charles, I admired your quiet, workmanlike style.

You were a silent assassin, rarely making a mistake as the point man and often rendering the opposition’s go-to guy moot with your stifling defense. This while being quite content with allowing your more high profile teammates to steal the glory. As long as you kept stealing the ball (the all-time leader when you retired and currently fourth, right? I’ve done my homework).

When you were traded to the Spurs (and then to about 18 other teams within a couple years), I felt it was an official end of an era for the franchise. You were the last remaining piece of the championship puzzle.

When you returned as an assistant coach, a new, albeit far-too-short, Renaissance seemed to re-emerge. Players gravitated toward you, and you were the perfect compliment of stability to the soap opera Larry Brown seemed to live.

But when you left again to coach the Blazers – perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not – so did the passion for basketball in this town. Of course, it didn’t help that the team began to suck, too.

So when you came back once more – this time as the long-awaited head coach – you could imagine my excitement. How fitting that the unsung hero from some of our most cherished moments in Sixers history will become the leader of the next ones?

(At this point, you’re probably wondering where I’m going with this. Do I want something? Free tickets, maybe? A signed basketball? The phone number of that hot blonde on the Sixers Dancers? Well, sure, I’d take all of that, if you insist, but that’s not my purpose).

In actuality, my intent for this letter is to issue a mea culpa of sorts. You see, some time after you took the reigns of the team, I began to lose faith in your abilities as a head coach. I began to overanalyze. I saw the present situation at the time, how you seemed to lose control of the players, how the younger guys on the team seemed to be more influenced by the dysfunctional ways of Allen Iverson and Chris Webber. Then I recalled your past experience with the “Jail Blazers,” and how they seemed to run amok, with virtually no regard for your authority.

Simply enough, I doubted that your coaching style would be able to get the Sixers back to the glory days.

(In your defense, Billy King sure did strap you down with some lousy personnel moves, didn’t he? I guess we can have a nice laugh about that now.)

Anyhow, I’ve been paying close attention to the team this year, your first full year without distractions from dysfunctional elements, your first real opportunity to get your message across to a young squad on what it means to be a champion.

(To be honest, I didn’t figure to pay as much attention as I have, but it’s been a lot of fun to watch and it sure beats those “Flavor of Love” marathons.)

The players certainly didn’t respond overnight – but they weren’t supposed to. In fact, the vast majority of people – myself included – didn’t even expect the team to be a blip on the playoff map this year.

Last night, after a dramatic, improbable win that induced celebratory screams which scared girlfriend and cat alike (oh, yeah, the girlfriend – I guess you can scratch the phone number from the hot blonde), I finally came to the realization that much of the credit for the rapid growth, development and overall transformation of this team needs to be given to you.

In hindsight, I never should have doubted you. I, of all people – the one who shunned conformity and chose you as my favorite baller growing up – should have known better. I should have known that your quiet, unassuming, humble style would work once more, just as it did 25 years earlier.

I am truly looking forward to what I only hope will be your long overdue comeuppance, and will one day be known as the Cheeks Era. And not just because it sounds really funny, and perhaps a bit pornographic.

So, again, Coach, I hope you can forgive me. And if not, free tickets or a signed basketball would suffice.

Player in the market? Some suggestions

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

Asante Samuel? Impressive (unless your name is Brown or Sheppard).

Chris Clemons? Actually, not a bad under-the-radar decision.

If both of them come to fruition, it’s certainly a good start to a critical offseason, where many fans are expecting the Eagles to do whatever it takes to prove that the Renaissance period in this franchise’s history has not officially expired – and that the quest for the elusive Super Bowl is still in the immediate plans.

Here are just a few names we should hope to hear about, as the Eagles continue (we hope) to make the plunge into free agency:

(Plus - and here’s the bonus - none of the following should break the bank, either.)

Bobby McCray, DE, Jaguars: Sure, he’s coming off a sub-par season, where he fell out of favor with Head Coach Jack Del Rio. But he’s also just a year removed from a breakout 10-sack, 2006 campaign. He’s got good size (6'6'', 261) and is only 26. A change of scenery might do him some good and help add some much-needed depth behind presumed starters Trent Cole and Juqua Thomas.

Gibril Wilson, SS, Giants: This one isn’t a reach – the rumor mill indicates the Birds are, indeed, interested. And they should be. First, very few are convinced that there is a proven starter at strong safety already on the roster. Sean Considine has not impressed when he’s had the opportunity to play and Quentin Mikell, though solid, isn’t necessarily a game changer – and is probably best utilized as the Eagles’ main man on special teams coverage. Wilson makes plays – four interceptions and close to 100 tackles last year is not too shabby. And this secondary is currently one living on a fading reputation.

Bubba Franks, TE, Packers: Yes, L.J. Smith was just franchised. But who here is confident that the injury-proned and butter-fingered Smith will finally live up to his potential? Franks, although older and now somewhat injury-proned himself, at least provides a veteran presence who is sure-handed and willing to do the dirty work.

A team we know – and should like

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

We won’t get ahead of ourselves, but it’s at least time to start talking about it.

It is safe to say the Sixers won’t end the championship drought in Philly this year, one that began 25 years ago, after Moses, Erving and current coach Maurice Cheeks helped take a juggernaut to the Promised Land.

It was once safe to say that basketball in this town would have to be put on an extended hiatus post-A.I., with fans reluctantly allowing the team to stink first and address needs later. Win big in the draft lottery, let those gawd-awful contracts created courtesy of Billy King expire and then become a player in free agency.

Let’s be frank: Even in the horrendously mediocre Eastern Conference, this team was not supposed to come within sniffing distance of the playoffs this year. But that’s exactly what that strong scent emanating from the Wachovia Center is right now.

For those out there who went into pro hoops hibernation around here long ago, I have an announcement:

Wake up!!

Something special is ever-so-slowly taking place. And if a 26-32 record doesn’t necessarily make you want to rise up and dance a jig, consider a few other numbers:

- Like offense? A 14-7 record when they score over 100 points.

- Prefer defense? A 25-13 record (including their last eight and an astounding 20-6 in their last 26) when holding the opponent to less than 100 (sure, that also means that they’re 1-19 when the opponent scores 100 or more, but no reason to dwell on the negative).

- A 21-20 since Ed Stefanski replaced King - perhaps a sign of things to come?

- Appreciate veterans? Over 30 Andre Miller – thankfully still here after the trade – and Samuel Dalembert are both enjoying career years, while Reggie Evans has the energy on court of a crackhead in withdrawal.

- Prefer developing youth? Try a Lou Williams, finally beginning to show why he was a Naismith winner, or the athletic Thaddeus Young, who is turning it up a notch at the time when most other rookies begin to hit a wall.

- Need yet another reason to make a worthwhile trip? A winning record at home (which is sadly far too barren on too many nights)

But the best things about the Sixers right now are twofold:

1) The players are disgustingly likable. There is not one person who you can’t root for.

2) They are delightfully transparent. What I mean is, we know what to expect from them each night – good, bad and ugly.

We know that a gritty effort will be given just as much as we know that they’ll struggle to hold on to big leads late in the game.

We know that they can run the fast break as good as anyone, but can shoot themselves in the foot at the foul line.

We know that they can stifle opponents with man-on-man defense, but will get killed nightly by good shooting squads behind the arch. We also know they can use a shooter or two, themselves.

But that’s the thing: We know all these things. The 8-8 Eagles could have just as easily won either six games or 12 this season. The Phillies, as successful a season they had, were a sports version of a roller coaster ride. And the Flyers can either win ten in a row or lose ten in a row at any given juncture.

The Sixers we know. Which also means it’s easy to pinpoint what needs they have and what needs to be done to take the next step.

I’m making it official: Basketball is back in Philly. That doesn’t mean a return to the glory days of Big Mo, Little Moe, Dr. J – just yet. But it does mean that we can see the light at the end of the tunnel once more.

And isn’t hope a good thing to have around here?

Let’s start talking about it.

A numbers game, replete with shame

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

The Phanatic Magazine would like to welcome back acclaimed columnist Jeff Glauser from his self-imposed hiatus (okay, Jeff would like to welcome himself back, but others are more than welcome to concur).
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It’s a numbers game.

It used to simply be America’s game.

Now it’s just a farce.

300 (wins), .400 (average), 500 (home runs). Name another sport with so many significant benchmarks?

You can’t. Because it doesn’t exist.

No other sport can threaten the employment of a fellow fan by sapping hours of his productivity because he spends them crunching numbers for his upcoming fantasy draft.

No, not even football – not even close.

So, if baseball is such an exact science, so tangible, so cut and dry… how come it seems as if only the outsiders seem to have a clue?

Explain the logic of the owners granting – almost unanimously, mind you – the commissioner who has overseen the most inept and embarrassing era of any sport in American history a contract extension for an unfathomable amount of money.

(And, on that note, does L.J. Smith share the same agent as Bud Selig, because, man, explain that one, too. Franchise tag? Really??)

But I digress.

Maybe someone can enlighten me on the (alleged) thought process on arguable the two most accomplished baseball players of this generation, if not history. And why, while already en route to a cakewalk toward Cooperstown, they (allegedly) cheat their sport, (allegedly) cheat their fans and (allegedly) defecate on some of baseball’s most cherished records?

Or, speaking of the Hall of Fame, can somebody make it clear to me how a player who has been retired for almost 20 years can gradually accumulate more votes over time to the point where he becomes eligible to be enshrined?

(Frankly, I’m hoping something similar occurs with me: You may think this column sucks now, but hey, give it 20 years and it’ll look like a friggin’ masterpiece.)

Or clarify the sensibility of the already filthy-rich owners – most of whom, I presume, were once simply innocent fans of the game, sans ulterior motive, like you and I – making a conscious decision to turn the other cheek when it was blatantly apparent to them that the ultimate integrity of the game was being threatened in epidemic proportions.

Next week’s showdown between Roger Clemens and Tom McNamee in front of Congress will make for some good tabloid-esque entertainment. Like the reality television whores we’ve become, we’ll tune in, hoping for some good, wholesome, catty drama, perhaps some name-calling, maybe even a disingenuous finger wag to pay homage to the Days of Rafael Past when our tax dollars once before, inexplicably, went toward this crap.

In a year where it seems that the general American population is finally awaking from a seven-year brain fart and acknowledging the need – as grossly belated as it might be – to shift gears, make a drastic change and embrace logic, it’s time for America’s game to do the same.

The writing is on the wall.

Unfortunately, it’s written over numbers. Numbers which used to mean something.

Passion remains when rooting against

By Jeff Glauser
The Phanatic Magazine

Have you ever seen those tee shirts – and the names, of course, vary – that say the following: “I Have Two Favorite Teams: The Eagles and Whoever Plays the Cowboys?”

Of course, I feel a bit conflicted ever admitting that the Giants can be considered a “favorite” team of mine, but let me tell you: It’s so true.

There was genuine glee to watch the likes of Jerry Jones and Terrible Owens leave their home stadium as losers. And I guess the more smug they – and people like them – tend to be throughout the year, the more vindicating it is to see them defeated.

So much for that presumed cakewalk into February, huh, Dallas (insert wicked snicker here).

My long-awaited point is this: The Eagles’ season is long gone, and yet I’ve spent this weekend pulling for two teams with Gang Green-like passion. The Jaguars teased me for a while and the Jersey boys in blue came through.

It’s amazing what despising an opponent can do to raise the stakes of a game.

When a true favorite team has taken its vacation far sooner then we’d hope, it leaves die-hard fans just two options: Ignore the postseason or convince ourselves of reasons to pull for other squads.

Regardless of the sport, rooting for one team simply to spite another is an honored playoff tradition for most sports fans. Not only does it provide temporary escapism of recalling that our team once again came up short, it helps draw us in and keep our attention as if our team remained.

Without fail, every October, you can find me enthralled watching the latest ballclub knock the Yankees out before the chocking dogs can sniff another World Series.

Each spring (after I send out a search team to help me locate where I can find the NHL playoffs on my television), I look forward to the once-juggernauts Red Wings and Devils coming up short.

It can be 40 years from now and you’ll still witness me and my arthritic something supporting any team that can prevent the Lakers from advancing to the next round.

Simply enough, taking a legitimate stance against another team is part of the fun in being a fan. It allows those passionate feelings to still ring true. Some may call it sports infidelity but, hey, if your significant other keeps building up a night of unmentionable ecstasy only to claim a headache before reaching the promised land (and does it for, say 25 YEARS IN A ROW), oh, I’d say a passing fling with another is quite justifiable.

If nothing else, it ensures that we can all put the gun away and save the self-pitying call-ins to the local talk show for just a little while longer.

Therefore, for me at least, the Super Bowl can still be more than just an additional opportunity to eat, drink and mock the latest has-been artist on the halftime stage this year.

Luckily, I have already provided myself many a reason to hate the Patriots (could perhaps be a column of its own), so that gives me a clear pathway to pulling for the Chargers next week. As a Philly guy, going against the Giants is fairly obvious, as well, though the Packers have been a compelling story all season anyhow.

However, if the finalists result in the G-Men and Pats, well… it will take more than a couple cold showers for me to wash the guilt and shame of rooting for the former once again.