Almost a Dynasty: The Rise and Fall of the 1980 Phillies - Hardcover

Kashatus, William C.

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9780812240368: Almost a Dynasty: The Rise and Fall of the 1980 Phillies

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0812240367 ISBN 13: 9780812240368

Publisher: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008

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Being a Phillies fan has never been easy. The team has amassed the most losses of any professional sports franchise in history, as well as the longest losing streak and the most last-place finishes in the major leagues.

The year 1980 was redemption for a miserable, century-old legacy of losing. It was also the beginning of the end for a team that could have been among the very best in baseball throughout the decade. Between 1980 and 1983 the Philadelphia Phillies captured two pennants and a world championship. Legends like Tug McGraw, Steve Carlton, Mike Schmidt, and Pete Rose led the collection of homegrown products, veteran castoffs, and fair-haired rookies. If they had won another World Series, the team not only would have distanced themselves from a history of losing but would have established a championship dynasty. It never happened.

The 1981 season was a watershed for both the Phillies and baseball. A players' strike led to a sixty-day work stoppage. The Phils, who had been in first place before the strike, were unable to regain their winning ways after play resumed. Labor relations between an increasingly powerful Players Association and inflexible owners became more acrimonious than ever before. Player salaries skyrocketed. Old loyalties were forgotten, and the notion of a homegrown team, like the 1980 Phillies, was a thing of the past.

Almost a Dynasty details the rise and fall of the 1980 World Champion Phillies. Based on personal interviews, newspaper accounts, and the keen insight of a veteran baseball writer, the book convincingly explains why a team that had regularly made the post-season in the mid- to late 1970s, only to lose in the playoffs, was finally able to win its first world championship.

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About the Author:

William C. Kashatus is author of more than a dozen books, including the award-winning September Swoon: Richie Allen, the '64 Phillies, and Racial Integration.

Introduction

Those who lived and died with the Philadelphia Phillies during their glory years of 1976 to 1983 will never forget the evening of Tuesday, October 21, 1980. Game Six of the World Series was being played at Veterans' Stadium in South Philadelphia. The Phillies held a three-to-two game lead over the American League champion Kansas City Royals. Perennial losers who had reached the Fall Classic just twice before in their ninety-seven-year history, the Phils had pinned their hopes for their first world championship on the left arm of their pitching ace, Steve Carlton.

Through seven innings on that cool, crisp autumn evening, Carlton was un-hittable. He alternated between a 90-m.p.h. fastball, a wicked curve, and a devastating slider, limiting the Royals to a single run on 4 hits while striking out 7 before he was pulled from the game in the eighth inning. Mike Schmidt, who would later be named the Most Valuable Player of the Series and one of the most feared power hitters in the game, gave Carlton all the support he needed in the third inning when he singled to left to drive in two runs. The Phils added another two runs in the sixth for a 4-0 lead.

Tug McGraw, the Phillies' colorful reliever, entered the game in the eighth with two runners on base and no outs. After walking the bases loaded, he managed to retire the side allowing just one run. Ever the showman, Tugger provided more drama in the top of the ninth when, with one out and the Fightins' clinging to a 4-1 lead, he loaded the bases again. Curiously, Philadelphia's infamous fans, the so-called "Boo-birds," held their tongues. They had grown accustomed to disappointment after the Phillies won three straight division titles in 1976, '77, and '78, only to lose in the playoffs each year. Somehow they knew tonight would be different.

Kansas City's second baseman Frank White came to bat and swung at McGraw's first delivery, popping a high foul ball near the Phillies' dugout. Catcher Bob Boone leaped from behind home plate in pursuit of the ball as Pete Rose, the team's spark plug, converged from first base. Boone expected "Charlie Hustle" to call him off, but he heard nothing.

"Where is he?! Where the hell is he?!" Boone panicked, as he neared the edge of the dugout. Normally, the Phillies catcher would simply let the ball fall to him, but now, not knowing where Rose was, he felt he would have to fight his teammate for the ball. Rose stopped short as Boone reached out to make the catch, but the ball glanced off the heel of his mitt. Ever alert, Rose snatched the ball for the second out of the inning. "We can't lose now," thought Larry Bowa, the Phillies' fiery shortstop who had been with the team since the hard luck days of the early 1970s. "Not even if fuckin' Babe Ruth himself comes up."

Fortunately for Phillies fans, Ruth's playing days were long over. But Kansas City did have one more threat, Willie Wilson, a dangerous leadoff man, who had a reputation for hitting in the clutch. When Wilson stepped to the plate, the "Vet," the Phils' sterile concrete stadium, rocked with anticipation as more than 65,000 screaming fans took to their feet.

City policemen on horseback lined the warning tracks down the left and right field foul lines. Attack dogs had also been brought onto the field to discourage fans from rushing the players.

McGraw, so exhausted that he considered asking Manager Dallas Green to lift him if he couldn't get Wilson, eyed his surroundings, desperately searching for inspiration to face one more hitter. "Anything," he thought. "Let me find anything to get through this last hitter." Just then, the comic reliever noticed a horse over by the warning track in foul territory. The steed was in the process of dropping a big, brown mud pie right there on the Astroturf . "Hmm, if I don't get out of this inning," McGraw mused, "that's what I'm going to be in this city. Nothing but a pile of horse shit." In Philadelphia, such negative motivation often produces the desired result.

McGraw worked a 1-2 count on the Royals' left fielder and looked for another sign; not from the catcher, but from his surroundings. Staring at a German shepherd seated next to the Phillies' dugout, the reliever thought, "K-9." "This is the ninth inning and I need a K—the baseball score sheet mark for strikeout," he later explained.

Confident that supernatural forces were behind him, McGraw, at 11:29 p.m., toed the rubber and drew a deep breath, preparing to deliver the pitch that would unlock nearly a century's worth of pent-up frustration for the City of Brotherly Love. He fired the ball towards home plate. It was, as he would say later, "the slowest fastball I ever threw" because "it took ninety-seven hard years to get there."

Wilson swung and missed.

For a solitary moment, time seemed to stop. All the years of losing, the decades of last-place finishes, the eternal frustration that had been passed down from one generation of fans to the next now belonged to the history books. Amidst all the tears, laughter and sheer jubilation was the realization that a miracle had happened—the Phillies had finally won their very first world championship. McGraw raised his arms and jumped skyward.

Schmidt dashed in from third base as Phillies converged on the mound from every conceivable direction. Just before the players could close ranks to embrace each other, Michael Jack, in a rare display of emotion, dove onto his teammates. Photographers freeze-framed the scene for posterity, indisputable proof that the Phillies really did capture a world championship. The celebration had begun.

More than a million fans turned out for the parade down Broad Street the following day and to hear McGraw deliver one of the city's most memorable quips. "All through baseball history, Philadelphia has taken a back seat to New York City," said the comic reliever, whipping the crowd into a wild frenzy. "Well, New York City can take this world championship and stick it!" he roared, thrusting a copy of the "We Win!" Philadelphia Daily News skyward.

Sound unprofessional? Perhaps. But the remark also resonated deeply with Phillies' fans, who had always taken a back seat to the Big Apple and that city's historically successful sports teams. Philadelphians, having long suffered the reputation of perennial losers, had finally been given reason to believe in something bigger than a baseball game. They could now bask in the national spotlight that had eluded them for nearly a century.

"The world is different today," wrote Gil Spencer of the Philadelphia Daily News, "because a Philadelphia baseball team is on top of it." Between 1980 and 1983 the Philadelphia Phillies captured two pennants (1980 and '83) and a world championship. The team was even stronger in 1981. The experience of a pennant race and winning both the National League Championship Series and World Series prepared the club for a return to the fall classic. The previous year's rookies had a season of major league experience to their credit. All of the veterans returned with the exception of Greg Luzinski, who was sold to the Chicago White Sox. There were also some important additions, including outfielder Gary Matthews, a dependable .300 hitter, and infielder Ryne Sandberg, a future Hall-of-Famer whose presence improved an already strong bench. Accordingly, the Phils, barring injuries, were odds-on favorites to repeat as World Champions in '81.

If they had accomplished that feat, the Phillies would have established a dynasty, a team that captures two or more world championships and three or more pennants in five years or less. They would have joined the illustrious ranks of the Philadelphia Athletics clubs of 1910-14 and 1929-31, the 1926-28 New York Yankees, the 1969-71 Baltimore Orioles, and the 1972-74 Oakland Athletics— baseball teams among the greatest in history because of their ability to win consistently over a prolonged period of time. But a Phillies dynasty never occurred because of a players' strike that resulted in a sixty-day work stoppage. The Phils, who had been in first place before the strike, were unable to regain their winning ways after play resumed in the split season. They lost a best-of-five-game playoff against the Montreal Expos, who became division champions.

Nineteen-eighty-one was a watershed not only for the Phillies but for the national pastime itself. Afterward, labor relations between an increasingly powerful Players' Association and owners who were equally inflexible became more acrimonious than ever before. While labor conflict had resulted in a series of work stoppages during the previous decade, never had there been a split season with a mini-playoff to determine divisional championships. Although free agency, established in 1975, spelled the end of the reserve clause binding a player to one team unless he was traded, sold or released, it affected only an elite group of performers. After 1981 player salaries skyrocketed and many others followed the money trail, leaving the club that originally signed them. Old loyalties were forgotten and the notion of a homegrown team, like the 1980 Phillies, was a thing of the past. Family-operated teams, like the Carpenters who had owned the Phillies since 1943, became frustrated with the ongoing labor conflict and sold to new, corporate owners who were more concerned about profits than winning.

Fan interest in the game also waned after 1981. Cable television increased the number of viewer outlets, bringing the game into people's homes and delivering a sharp blow to attendance. More fans chose to stay at home or watch professional football, a more action-packed alternative to baseball. Further eroding the fan base was the growing publication of kiss-and-tell books, which revealed the seedier side of the ballplayers' lives, their infidelity, alcohol and drug abuse. Together with the exorbitant salaries players were demanding and the constant threat of a strike, the sordid revelations destroyed player reputations among fans who turned elsewhere for role models. Only by examining the 1980 Phillies in the context of these dramatic changes can we understand why the team failed to repeat as world champions in 1981, and why they would become one of the last homegrown teams in baseball history.

Caught in the growing chasm that divided a more stable era of the past from the uncertainties of the future, were four Phillies who distinguished themselves as the talented cornerstone of the 1980 World Champions: Tug McGraw, Steve Carlton, Mike Schmidt, and Pete Rose. McGraw, the Phils' comical relief pitcher, was the emotional soul of the team. Passionate, funny, and quintessentially Philadelphia, Tug, entertained the fans with his humorous quips, irreverent personality, and heart-stopping performances in the late innings. Acquired from the New York Mets in 1975, the left-handed screwball specialist proved to be an immediate success, saving 14 games and winning 9 while posting a 2.97 earned run average that year. He also brought a much-needed presence in the clubhouse, keeping the Phillies loose when they almost lost the National League's Eastern Division championship after building a huge lead in 1976.

In 1980, McGraw compiled a 5-4 record, 1.47 earned run average, and 20 saves in 57 appearances. He was even more impressive during the pennant race. After coming off the disabled list on July 17th, the screwball specialist posted five victories and five saves in a three-week period. McGraw pitched in all five playoff games against the Houston Astros, saving the first and fourth contests. In the World Series, he pitched in four of the six games against Kansas City, winning Game Five and saving the opener and the final contest. During the strike-abbreviated season of 1981, McGraw saved 10 games for the Phillies and continued to be among the league leaders in appearances with 34 for each of the next two seasons. But when the Phillies reached the post-season in 1983, the Tugger was relegated to the bench, having relinquished his role as closer to Al Holland. He retired after the 1984 season.

While McGraw may have forged his impressive career with the Miracle Mets of '69 and their pennant-winning successors of '73, he will always be remembered by Phillies' fans as the "Tugger," the colorful pitcher who sealed the team's one and only world championship. Both a "showhorse" and "workhorse," he gave creative names to all the pitches in his repertoire. The "John Jameson," for example, was a fastball that was "straight"—the way McGraw "liked his whiskey." Other pitches were named for Peggy Lee ("Is that all there is?"), Bo Derek ("It has a nice little tail on it"), and Frank Sinatra ("Fly me to the moon").

McGraw was different from the vast majority of Philadelphia's professional athletes because he genuinely cared about the fans. Once, when asked by baseball writer Roger Angell how he managed to survive such a tough crowd pitching in Philly, Tug replied: "I love them. Whenever I need something extra, I look up in the stands and there it is." His trademark "Ya gotta believe!" was more than a late season rally cry; it was a citywide inspiration for the little guy who was down on his luck, the senior citizen who was struggling with the infirmities of old age, the impressionable adolescent who had given up hope, and those who were fighting for their lives against a terminal illness. McGraw encouraged Phillies' fans to believe in the community and in the missions of its many charitable organizations. Most important, he inspired fans to believe that if they chased after their dreams—no matter what they might be—those dreams would come true.

If McGraw was the emotional soul of the team, Steve Carlton gave the Phillies an air of quiet professionalism. He was the team's ace, a power pitcher for most of his 14-year career in the City of Brotherly Love. Acquired from the St. Louis Cardinals in 1972, Carlton quickly won over the fans going 27-10 for a Phillies club that won only 57 games that season. "Lefty," as he was dubbed by teammates and fans alike, won 20 or more games in 1976 and '77, but emerged as one of the National League's most dominant pitchers in 1980 when he posted a 24-9 record with 286 strikeouts and a 2.34 ERA. His brilliant performance earned him the third of four Cy Young Awards he garnered over the course of a twenty-three year career in the majors. During the post-season, Carlton defeated Houston 3-1 in the opener and, in the World Series against Kansas City, emerged as the winning pitcher in the second and sixth games.

During the strike-shortened season of '81, Carlton still managed to win 13 games in 24 starts and notched his 3,000th strikeout as well as his first Gold Glove. In '82, the tall left-hander was ever better. Not only was he the National League's only 20-game winner but led the league in strikeouts (286), complete games (19), and shutouts (6) earning him his fourth Cy Young Award. Although a nagging back injury limited Carlton to just 15 victories in 1983, when the Phils captured another pennant, he still led the league in strikeouts (275) and innings pitched (284). Carlton also defeated the Dodgers twice to clinch the pennant in postseason play.

Lefty posted a 13-7 record in 1984, his last effective year for the Phillies....

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