The Phils’ payrolls in the late 1990s were in the bottom third in the game, and Schilling took every opportunity to criticize ownership for not spending what it took to put a contender on the field. In 1999, the Phils opened the season with a $28-million payroll. In May of that year, before a game in Montreal, Schilling told reporters it was time for Phillies ownership to do more or sell the team. Schilling’s stinging remarks were so calculated it was surprising that he didn’t issue a script in French, just for the Montreal media.
Rolen got so fed up with the losing and the direction of the team that he turned down a long-term contract worth about $90 million from the Phils on his way to being traded to St. Louis.
In the late 1990s there was little for baseball fans to get excited about in Philadelphia, and when there was, the team occasionally went out of its way to reel in the excitement. In May 1998, Mike Piazza was traded from the Los Angeles Dodgers to the Florida Marlins. Florida was just a way station for Piazza. The Marlins made it known that they intended to quickly spin him off in another deal. Phillies fans began salivating. Piazza, one of the game’s premier sluggers, had grown up in the Philadelphia suburbs. He idolized Mike Schmidt and made regular trips to Veterans Stadium as a kid. He was the perfect Phillie, except for one problem—there was no way in hell he was going to be a Phillie. Team officials put a quick end to any fairy-tale dreams. They preemptively reached out to reporters who covered the team to tell them that Piazza was “not a fit,” which was code for the team’s saying it didn’t want to spend the money needed to extend his contract.
As sad days in franchise history go, it wasn’t Black Friday, not even close, really. But the dousing of enthusiasm surrounding Mike Piazza’s availability that spring was a sad reminder of how microscopic the Phillies had become on the baseball landscape.
Baseball was so grim in Philadelphia in the late 1990s that the people who ran radio station WIP for several years would not allow their hosts to talk about baseball. Imagine that—an all-sports radio station eliminating an entire major sport from its list of discussion topics.
It turned out that Phillies management had a plan. They could not compete with baseball’s big boys while playing in Veterans Stadium. They needed one of those modern ballparks that people wanted to come to and, more importantly, spend oodles of money in. It probably wasn’t right that for a good many years the baseball product became secondary while the team, along with the city and the state, figured out a way to get a new stadium, but those dark days gave birth to this Golden Age of Phillies baseball. David Montgomery always said that when the Phillies got their new stadium and their revenue streams improved, the club would have a payroll commensurate with its market size and be in the running for elite players.
He kept his promise.
But even as the doors to a new stadium opened in 2004, there were problems. Pitchers on both sides of the field complained about the stadium’s cozy power alleys. John Smoltz ripped the place and David Wells ridiculed it. One rival coach called it “Williamsport.” Jake Peavy said “that new park in Philly might be the worst in baseball.” The Phillies will never attract an elite pitcher to that ballpark, the critics howled.
Baseball relevance did not automatically come with the new ballpark. Before spring training in 2005, in an effort to drum up some buzz for the coming season, the club invited media members to Citizens Bank Park to meet the team’s new coaching staff. Meanwhile, on the same day 100 miles to the north, the Yankees were introducing the newest member of their starting pitching rotation, Randy Johnson.
Come meet our coaches!
Oh, yeah?
COME MEET OUR FIVE-TIME CY YOUNG WINNER!!
Something was still missing. The Phillies still weren’t ready to be one of baseball’s big boys.
Only winning would complete the transformation. Only winning would fill the seats and give the team the revenues it needed to be one of baseball’s big boys.
They got to the doorstep in 2007. They broke the door down in 2008.
“I think we changed the culture and the feeling around here,” said Pat Gillick, surveying the Phils’ ascension in the spring of 2011. “It was always like Philly was behind New York and now I think that’s changed. At least I think we’re even with New York and maybe a little ahead.”
In New York, they agree. After years of eating turkey on the card table in the den, the Phillies now sit at the adult table. Pass the cranberry sauce, Mr. Steinbrenner.
“I don’t like that description because it sounds arrogant,” said Brian Cashman, the Yankees GM. “I just look at it this way: Philly has graduated to a big-market team. They’ve jumped class. It shows what can happen if you go about your business the right way. They’ve done what the Red Sox did. Those red hats are all over the place. Red Sox Nation, Yankee Universe, Phillies Whatever. They’re there. They’ve built a great brand, a great park, a packed park, and worldwide support. What they’ve done—you have to genuflect to it.”
Things have changed, John.
But have they really?
Pitching has always, as Amaro likes to say, ruled the day in baseball. Oh, sure, there was Murderers’ Row and the Big Red Machine, teams that pounded the baseball, but pitching has long been the consistent strength of winning teams, even if they had to pray for rain after using Spahn and Sain.
There would be no praying for rain with the 2011 Phillies. Hits and runs, maybe, but not rain. Many teams had one ace pitcher, some even had two, but the Phillies had depth, the ability to send an ace to the mound four out of five days, a tremendous strength in the daily test of endurance and skill that is the baseball season. Amaro had landed Halladay—or was it vice versa?—in a December 2009 trade, Oswalt in a July 2010 trade, and stunningly brought back Lee with a stealthy free-agent strike in December 2010. And not one of them blinked an eye at calling Citizens Bank Park home. Turns out that was a loser’s lament.
“It’s all about making pitches,” Halladay says in almost every postgame interview. Effective pitching can win anywhere. Greg Maddux, the great former Atlanta Braves Cy Young winner, used to say that hitters don’t hit home runs, pitchers give them up. Halladay, Lee, and Oswalt weren’t ones to blame a cozy power alley for their leaving a 3-1 fastball over the heart of the plate. This veteran threesome joined homegrown Cole Hamels, twice an MVP in the run to the 2008 World Series title, in, dare we say, the best rotation ever assembled.
Entering 2011, this foursome owned 10 top-five finishes in Cy Young voting, three Cy Young Awards, 13 All-Star selections, a half dozen 20-win seasons, three postseason MVP Awards, and a 20-8 postseason record. In 2010, all four had finished in the top 21 in the majors in ERA. Halladay (.662), Oswalt (.643), and Lee (.625) came into the season ranked, respectively, first, fifth, and eighth in career winning percentage among active pitchers with at least 100 decisions. The last team to enter a season with three winning percentages that good was the 1957 Dodgers with Sal Maglie, Don Newcombe, and Carl Erskine.
“This is a great staff,” a rival scout marveled the morning after waking up and learning the Phillies had signed Lee. “There will be a lot of hitters looking at 0 for 16 when you face them in a four-game series.”
“Hands down, the best rotation in baseball, maybe one of the best ever,” said another envious scout from a rival club.
Before even throwing a pitch as teammates in 2011, The Rotation was being compared to some of the best staffs ever: the 1954 Indians; the Dodgers of the mid-1960s; The Giants in 1962; the Mets in 1986; the Diamondbacks in 2001; the Athletics of the early 2000s; and others.
But on some of those staffs, the greatness went just two deep.
The Phillies go four deep, and with Joe Blanton, Vance Worley, and Kyle Kendrick in the mix, the No. 5 spot figured to be in capable hands.
On paper, the Phillies staff compared favorably to two of the best and deepest of the modern era—the 1971 Orioles and the Braves of the 1990s. The ’71 Orioles had a foursome of 20-game winners. The Braves had thre
e sure-bet Hall of Famers.
“When it’s all said and done, this Phillies staff potentially could be in the argument with the best all-time,” broadcaster and baseball historian Bob Costas said.
Time, health, and the great test of a season that can last seven months, ultimately, would have its say on The Rotation. But if what Earl Weaver said was true, if the only thing that matters is what happens on that little hump in the middle of the field, then the 2011 Phillies had every reason to report to spring training with the highest of hopes.
Meet The Rotation and Its Supporting Cast.
COLE HAMELS
On a cool autumn night in October 2008, 24-year-old Cole Hamels stood on the field at Citizens Bank Park and cradled the World Series MVP trophy in his left arm.
Magic filled that left arm, just as his mom and dad had suspected a decade earlier. Back home in San Diego, Amanda Hamels would watch her son throw balls in the yard and be amazed how he could pick out a target and “ping it,” from any distance. Gary Hamels saw the magic, too.Young Cole would often pitch to his dad until one day, when the boy was about 13, Gary went in the house and told his wife, “I don’t think I can catch this kid anymore.”
Mark Furtak saw the magic early in 2000 when Hamels threw for him in the bullpen at Rancho Bernardo High School in San Diego.
“I think I can make the JV team,” the gangly sophomore excitedly told the pitching coach.
To hell with that, Furtak thought to himself.
“I want you to think varsity,” Furtak told the kid. “From this day on, I want you to act like a varsity guy.”
Hamels did just that.
“He started off the season as our Number Three pitcher and by the end was our Number Two,” Furtak said. “Our Number One was a first-round draft pick and by the end of the season Cole was keeping right up with him.”
Scouts always flock to Rancho Bernardo because it has a tremendous baseball program that always turns out great talent. Former All-Star third baseman Hank Blalock came out of the program in 1999. In the spring of 2000, scouts came to watch pitcher Matt Wheatland, a first-round pick of the Detroit Tigers, and catcher Scott Heard, a first-round pick of the Texas Rangers.
When they were done watching Wheatland and Heard, they stuck around to see Cole Hamels.
“He was dominant—even as a sophomore,” said Jim Fregosi Jr., who in those days was one of the Phillies’ top West Coast scouts.
The Hamels kid had a nice, loose, easy-working arm, a beautiful delivery, and a tall, angular, projectable frame. His fastball was only in the mid-80s his sophomore year, but it would improve, no doubt, when Mother Nature did her work on that body.
What made scouts’ jaws drop was that changeup, a baffling pitch that made hitters flail at air. Scouts scribbled Hamels’ name in their notebooks. This kid had first-rounder written all over him. He’d be worth following the next two years.
Cole Hamels is the only member of The Rotation that is homegrown. Roy Halladay, Roy Oswalt, and Joe Blanton came in trades, Cliff Lee as a free agent. The Phillies got Hamels with the 17th overall pick in the 2002 draft.
Being drafted in the first round is the realization of a dream, a reward for hard work and talent, for any ballplayer.
For Hamels, and everyone close to him, it was extra special because his selection came less than two years after he wondered if he’d ever throw a baseball again.
Furtak is a middle school physical education teacher and a former pitcher at the University of Hawaii. He will enter his 23rd season as Rancho Bernardo’s pitching coach in 2012.
He easily recalls his most difficult day on the job.
“I still remember hearing the pop,” he said.
Hamels had just finished an impressive sophomore season and was pitching in a “coaches’ league” in the summer of 2000. The league is designed to give coaches a look at younger players who will be moving up in coming seasons. Furtak recalled being excited before one of Hamels’ starts that July. He always got a little rush when the lefty took the mound.
“I remember it like it was yesterday,” he said in the fall of 2011. “It was at Grossmont High School. We were playing Poway.”
Furtak paused.
“It was the worst thing I’ve ever gone through as a coach,” he said.
Early in that game, Hamels threw a pitch and collapsed to the ground in pain. Furtak recalled seeing the ball hit halfway up the backstop as he sprinted the mound to tend to Hamels.
The young pitcher’s face was white.
“My whole body hurts,” he told Furtak.
Hamels clutched the upper part of his left arm. Furtak knew from the pop that something was dreadfully wrong. He had been in the stands on May 9, 1994, the night Cincinnati Reds pitcher Tom Browning suffered a broken left humerus while throwing a pitch in a game in San Diego. The injury effectively ended Browning’s career.
“I was at the Browning game,” he said. “It was like hearing a tree branch snap. This was the same thing.”
Silence fell over the field as Hamels was tended to. Finally, with the help of others, the young pitcher rose to his feet, and made it to his mother’s car for a race to the hospital.
“It was pure devastation,” said Hamels, recalling the ride to the hospital. “I never cried so hard in my life. I thought it was over. I thought I’d have to take up soccer again.”
Furtak stayed at the game, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He thought he had just witnessed the last pitch Cole Hamels would ever throw. He really did.
When the game was over, Furtak and Head Coach Sam Blalock went to the hospital.
“This is not a normal arm,” Furtak plaintively told one of the doctors. “You need to do something special.”
Hamels was diagnosed with a complete fracture of the humerus bone. Doctors believe he initially weakened the bone, or suffered a stress reaction or microfracture, running into a parked car while playing touch football the day before. The force of throwing a pitch caused the weakened bone to snap.
A day after the injury, Hamels visited Jan Fronek, a highly regarded San Diego orthopedic surgeon who was also the San Diego Padres team physician.
“I remember Dr. Fronek telling me he wasn’t sure I’d ever throw a baseball again,” Hamels said. “He said you might want to pick a different position.”
Four days after the injury, Fronek performed surgery on Hamels and inserted two rods into the humerus.
Everyone crossed their fingers.
The rehab moved in baby steps. Hamels did not pitch during his junior year at Rancho Bernardo. He pinch-hit occasionally, but spent most of his time shagging balls in the outfield during batting practice. After having the rods removed in January 2001, he started tossing with Furtak at a distance of 10 feet. By April, he started throwing lightly in the bullpen. The intensity of the bullpen sessions increased until nearly a year had passed since the injury. The Broncos were playing a coaches’ league game in July 2001. Furtak asked Hamels if he wanted to pitch an inning. Hamels got up on the mound. His arm stayed in one piece. If surgical procedures were measured like a pitcher’s starts, Fronek would have been credited with a perfect game.
Getting on the mound a year after the injury helped Hamels clear an important physical and psychological hurdle, but he was far from ready to turn it loose for scouts. He was slow coming out of the gate in workouts before his senior season. He had felt some soreness in the arm and was still very tentative. The Rancho Bernardo coaching staff went slow with Hamels, letting the pitcher dictate his own pace. As the season began to unfold, Furtak believed Hamels was physically ready to let it all out. It was time for a pep talk.
“Cole, you’ve got about a two-month window here to show these guys how good you are,” Furtak told Hamels. “You’re ready.”
Hamels made his senior-season debut on March 30, 2002. Furtak recalls seeing one scout, Darrell Conner of the Phillies, at the game.
“How’s Cole doing?” Conner asked Furtak before the game.
&n
bsp; “You’re going to like this,” Furtak told Conner. “You’re going to really like this. He might be better than Wheatland.”
Conner’s report from that game showed how much he liked Hamels.
“The ball jumped out of his hand with very little effort,” the report read. “Fastball gets on hitters quickly. Power kind of curveball with late 12-6 break. Changeup has good arm speed and fade. Threw it for strikes.”
In the summary of his report, Conner mentioned this was Hamels’ first start of the season and he was on a strict pitch count.
“A very pleasant surprise,” Conner wrote. “I don’t know what the medical will say, but if he’s cleared, this young man profiles as an Eric Milton-type starter. I loved what I saw.”
So did every other Phillies scout who stopped by that spring.
A report filed after Hamels’ start on April 12, 2002, said: “See him as a Number One starter on a major-league club. Has impact-type stuff. Will move quickly through a system. Mound presence and professional approach stand out.”
On May 3, another Phillies scouting report read: “A definite consideration at number seventeen.”
Hamels got better and better that season. In his year away from the mound, he had gotten bigger and stronger physically, and it showed in his fastball.
“I had never seriously trained, so I think the rehab helped me,” he said. “I went from 6-1, 140 to 6-3, 170. My fastball went from 85 to 91–92. I was like, ‘Wow, this is pretty sweet.’ ”
Conner stayed on Hamels and all the Phillies’ big scouts popped in for a look-see. Marti Wolever, who had taken over as scouting director when Mike Arbuckle moved up in the front office the previous year, watched one of Hamels’ starts and told Conner, “That’s our guy. Don’t miss another start.” Arbuckle made a trip to San Diego and was impressed with the kid’s demeanor.
The Rotation Page 2
