The Rotation

by Jim Salisbury

  “He was lightheaded,” Dubee said. “He was having a tough time focusing and seeing the signs.”

  Halladay was treated by two doctors in the clubhouse. He was diagnosed with heat exhaustion and dehydration. The next day he was back at the ballpark, looking as if nothing ever happened.

  “I thought I could get through it, but that last inning I felt like I was about to get wheeled off the mound,” he said.

  A number of factors played a role in Halladay’s overheating that night. Obviously, there was the temperature and humidity. Jimmy Rollins likened it to “one of those old days at the Vet when you’d stick a thermometer in the turf.” The venue didn’t help. Wrigley Field is 97 years old and lacks the amenities of modern parks. The clubhouse is small and narrow, like a truck trailer, and the cramped dugouts turn into brick pizza ovens on hot days. Halladay couldn’t even seek relief in the tunnel behind the dugout because an exhaust vent from a nearby clothes dryer was pumping out hot air.

  “Between innings I couldn’t get away from the heat,” he said. “I couldn’t escape it. It got to the point where I kept getting hotter and hotter and I couldn’t stop it.”

  The incident was so scary that the next day Cubs officials opened an air-conditioned room behind the dugout for pitchers to use as a retreat between innings.Vance Worley benefited from it two days after Halladay could have used it. Rollins even sneaked in there as the temperature rose to 97 in the series finale. Halladay, fully recovered, was able to throw a bullpen session before that matinee game. Except for a tour group winding its way through the stands, the old ballpark was empty as Halladay did his work that morning.As Halladay made his way back to the clubhouse after his bullpen session, a young boy sneaked away from the tour group and shouted to the pitcher as he was about to disappear down the dugout steps. Halladay turned, waited for the boy, and signed his baseball. The boy ran back to the tour group with a lifelong memory in his hand.

  The visit to Chicago was memorable for other reasons for Halladay and members of the Phillies traveling party. It was downright scary watching him melt on that pitchers mound.

  Several days after the incident, it was revealed that Halladay had battled a stomach virus the night before the start. He did not admit that when he spoke about the incident with reporters because, like Utley, he is loath to talk about health issues that can be interpreted as excuses.

  Halladay is a man who prides himself on pitching deep into games, finishing what he starts. For years, big, tough major-league managers have felt heat from his glare when they dare to take him out of the game too early. Halladay tried to stare down Mother Nature on that searing night in Chicago, but she got the win. She pulled back the mask and revealed that there was a human being behind that robot. And if you didn’t think Halladay was a little humbled by it all, check this out: he actually initiated some small talk with a couple of reporters the next day. It must have been cooler in Hell than it was in Chicago.

  Charlie Manuel walked up the dugout steps and into the Friday afternoon furnace that was Citizens Bank Park on July 22.

  “It’s hotter than a two-peckered billy goat,” said Manuel, who has a one-liner for all meteorological conditions.

  The Phils were about to play the San Diego Padres in the first game of a 10-game home stand that featured a couple of huge subplots—the approaching non-waiver trade deadline and a three-game series with the San Francisco Giants, who hadn’t visited Philadelphia since they danced on the Citizens Bank Park lawn after beating the Phils in the 2010 National League Championship Series.

  July 2011 would prove to be the hottest month ever in Philadelphia. Temperatures were in the high 90s all weekend and the humidity was stifling, but that didn’t stop the Phils from taking three of four from the Padres. Cole Hamels bounced back from his worst start of the season the previous weekend in New York and struck out 10 in a 3-1 victory on Friday night.

  “Baseball is a game of failure,” he said afterward. “It’s how you get over it that determines how you succeed.”

  Six days after his personal Chicago fire, Halladay stared down the Philadelphia heat and struck out eight Padres over eight innings in a 5-3 win, his 12th of the season.

  Hamels and Halladay walked a total of two batters in 16 innings in their starts.

  San Diego Manager Bud Black was impressed with Hamels.

  “I’ve seen him develop into a pitcher who can do a lot of things,” Black said. “His movement on his fastball and on his changeup, and the command of his pitches has really improved. He’s showing that being an All-Star is warranted.

  “That entire staff throws strikes so you’ve got to be ready. But the first pitch might not be a fastball the way they all locate.”

  On Tuesday night, the Giants came to town and became the latest team incapable of solving the rookie Worley, who pitched the first complete game of his career in a 7-2 win.

  The 2011 Phillies had never felt better about themselves. Not only had they just beaten the team that shattered their postseason dream the year before, but the offense had finally come alive. The Phils quietly led the NL in runs per game in July, and the pitchers were no longer fretting about run support and trying to hide their frustration when they didn’t get any.

  None of this stopped the front office from continuing to pursue a hitter. In pro sports, a management team must stare a hole through the good times and continually evaluate a club with cold and clinical eyes. Even as the Phillies’ lineup was heating up, Manuel, Amaro, and other team officials could see that the club still needed another bat. And if they needed a reminder of why, it was right in the other dugout, where the Giants had the type of explosive starting pitching staff that could eviscerate a lineup and enough good left-handed relievers to do a job on the Phillies’ lefty-heavy batting order.

  Amaro investigated the Mets’ Carlos Beltran, the White Sox’ Carlos Quentin, and Michael Cuddyer and Delmon Young of the Twins, but his top trade target throughout July was Pence. He was in hot pursuit of the lanky Texan even before Giants starters Matt Cain and Tim Lincecum beat the Phillies on July 27 and July 28 in Philadelphia. The losses marked the first time the Phillies had lost back-to-back games since June 3 and June 4. Manuel created a little controversy after the second loss when he said the Giants pitching staff was good but not great. In damage control days later, Manuel said he meant no disrespect to the Giants and Lincecum, the two-time Cy Young Award winner whose slim build and long hair make him look like The Wizard of Oz Scarecrow in a baseball uniform. Manuel said his point was it takes years of excellence, not just a few, to be considered great.

  Some folks theorized that Manuel was playing head games on the Giants. There’s no doubt that Big Chuck has some fox in him, but his commentary on the Giants’ pitchers probably wasn’t that calculated. Manuel’s analysis probably had more to do with the Phillies hitters than the Giants pitchers. Manuel, you see, is a hitting junkie. He loves to talk about it and study it. He once said he keeps a copy of Ted Williams’ book, The Science of Hitting, in his bathroom and unashamedly admitted to reading it a thousand times on trips to the john. He made his bones in the majors as a hitting coach for the powerful Cleveland Indians teams of the 1990s. The hitting junkie can’t stand it when his team doesn’t give him his fix. He takes it personally and doesn’t hesitate to vent his frustration. And that’s what happened those back-to-back nights against the Giants. The Phillies scored just two runs in those games and both were unearned. Remember Manuel saying, “I want a good hitter,” earlier in the month? He was still thinking it—and so was Amaro.

  Christmas morning arrived the next day for Phillies fans. It was July 29. On this day in 2009, Amaro landed Cliff Lee in a trade with Cleveland. On the same day in 2010, he traded for Roy Oswalt. Anticipation of another shiny package under the tree reached a feverish high as the Phillies got set to open a three-game series with the Pittsburgh Pirates. As Halladay threw the first pitch that night, there was a strong feeling around the ballpark that the deal was going t
o come down that night. In the executive offices, Amaro and Assistant GM Scott Proefrock briefed Club President David Montgomery as the deal moved to trigger-pull stage. The Phils’ baseball people were ready to send top hitting prospect Jonathan Singleton and top pitching prospect Jarred Cosart, and two other minor-league prospects, to Houston for Pence. It was a steep price. Singleton, just 19, was considered one of the best hitting prospects in the game. “Don’t trade Jonathan Singleton,” a rival scout said back in March, after a couple of weeks of scouting the Phils’ system in spring training. In Cosart, the Phils gave up a 21-year-old with fire in his right arm. “The best arm I’ve seen in a long time,” former Phils pitcher Dickie Noles said in the spring of 2010.

  Giving up Singleton and Cosart was enough to make the Phils wince, but they weren’t about to let two unproven players from Class A ball hold up a deal that was going to help ensure that this season reached the destination that had been charted back in December, when ownership stretched the payroll to sign Lee. The Phils had something special brewing—the best record in the majors, multiple Cy Young candidates, and enough electricity in the stands to light up Center City. They had to make this deal. It was part of their World Series-or-bust mandate.

  In the middle innings of that Christmas night game against the Pirates, Greg Casterioto, the team’s director of baseball communications, quietly slipped away from his seat in the press box and did not immediately return. Veteran press-box dwellers knew this was a sign. Casterioto had headed off to his office to write the press release that was about to turn Roy Halladay into a giddy kid on Christmas morning. Hunter Pence was a Phillie.

  “We always try to address our needs,” Amaro said in a news conference after the game. “We feel this was the missing piece.”

  Halladay, who racked up his 13th win that night, was elated by the deal. At the All-Star Game two weeks earlier, he and Pence had chatted about Philadelphia.

  “He asked me about it and I said for me it’s everything I thought it would be,” Halladay said. “I told him how much I enjoyed it here. I didn’t think at the time it was a sales pitch, but I guess I did a pretty good job if it was.”

  After years of seeing other teams make late-season improvements while in Toronto, Halladay was ecstatic to be on a team that was willing to sacrifice to win.

  “We’re a better team,” he said. “I’m sure the guys they gave up have a chance to be great major-league players, but that’s why guys want to be here, because of the sacrifices the organization is willing to make. I know as a player it’s greatly appreciated.

  “It’s a good feeling to know that even when you’re five or six games up, management is still trying to make you a better team. New York and Boston did it. That’s one of the big reasons I was adamant about coming here.”

  Pence hightailed it from the worst team in the majors to the best and was in the lineup in borrowed red spikes the next night. Delirious fans showered him with affection and he loved them back with thumbs-up signs and other gestures of thanks. His 6-5 body could not contain the excitement of being in first place and playing in front of the most electric crowd in baseball. Pence is all arms and legs, and he never stops running. His blue eyes, as big as baseballs, are filled with boyish enthusiasm. He makes Shane Victorino, the hyperactive center fielder, look sleepy.

  “Now he’s high-energy,” Victorino said after he heard about the trade. “I’m not the biggest spaz around here anymore.”

  Pence made an immediate impact. He drove in a run in his first game and started a game-winning rally in the 10th the next day, July 31. It was the final day of the month and the Phils were about to depart on a rugged 10-game West Coast trip. The last thing they wanted was to play extra innings, but that’s where the Pirates had taken them.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Victorino shouted in the dugout before the Phils’ batted in the bottom of the 10th. “I’m hungry.”

  Pence, who had begun his day by getting coffee in Center City with teammate/welcoming-committee leader Chase Utley, was hungry, too. Following Victorino’s orders, he doubled with one out in the 10th. Raul Ibanez followed with a game-winning double, capping a four-RBI day. As Pence charged across home plate with a huge smile on his face, the Phillies’ dugout emptied, the sellout crowd went nuts, and a new team motto was born.

  “Good game, let’s go eat!” Pence told broadcaster Sarge Matthews in an on-field interview moments after the dramatic win.

  It was good to be a Phillie and everyone from Hunter Pence to Roy Halladay knew that. The team headed to the airport 29 games over .500, and the wins kept coming on an eventful West Coast trip.

  AUGUST

  The month of fun started with a 92-mph fastball into the small of Shane Victorino’s back.

  Sometimes the good times hurt a little bit.

  The Phillies opened August with a 10-game road trip through the National League West against Colorado, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. They swept the Rockies at Coors Field, including a dramatic 4-3 victory on August 1, when John Mayberry Jr. hit a game-tying home run on a 3-2 slider from Rockies closer Huston Street with two outs in the ninth and Victorino hit a game-winning homer in the 10th.

  Nothing beats a thrilling late-inning victory.

  Well, except maybe a bench-clearing brawl.

  The Phillies and Giants had developed a nice little rivalry since the Giants upset them in the 2010 National League Championship Series. The Phillies entered the NLCS as favorites, but the Giants silenced their bats, which had been the concern before Game 1. The Phillies hit just .216 overall and just .178 with runners in scoring position against the likes of Tim Lincecum, Matt Cain, and a strong Giants bullpen. A clutch hit or two and the Phillies possibly win the series. Instead, Giants closer Brian Wilson struck out Ryan Howard looking in the bottom of the ninth inning in Game 6 at Citizens Bank Park, and the Giants celebrated a trip to the World Series in front of 46,000 Phillies fans.

  The Giants returned to Philadelphia in July and took two of three from the Phillies to keep the rivalry simmering. Charlie Manuel added a little fuel to the fire when he told reporters afterward that Lincecum and Cain are “good, not great” pitchers. Good, great, mediocre, whatever. They still kept kicking the Phillies’ ass. The Phillies simply couldn’t beat the Giants, who seemed to be a sure-bet to get back to the postseason to defend their title.

  That could mean trouble and the Phillies knew it. But for now, they had a four-game regular-season series against the Giants on their minds.

  And what a series it was.

  The Phils won the first game of the series, 3-0, at AT&T Park on August 4, when Cliff Lee threw his fifth shutout of the season. They were cruising to a 9-2 victory the next night when Victorino stepped into the batter’s box with two on and two out in the top of the sixth. Giants pitcher Ramon Ramirez threw a first-pitch fastball into Victorino’s back. Everybody in the ballpark knew he intentionally threw at Victorino, including home plate umpire Mike Muchlinski. He hopped up from his crouch and quickly issued Ramirez a warning. But Victorino couldn’t care less about warnings. He was pissed. He flipped his bat and took a couple steps toward the mound. Muchlinski stepped in front of him, trying to block his path to the pitcher. Ramirez dropped his glove and stepped toward Victorino, letting him know he was ready to go if he wanted to take a run at him. Giants catcher Eli Whiteside started hopping up and down in front of home plate. Not since Johnny Lawrence in The Karate Kid had somebody looked like a bigger tool before a fight. He was begging for somebody to make a move. He noticed Placido Polanco running in from first base, dropped his mitt, and tackled Polanco at the knees.

  Everything went to hell from there.

  The dugouts and bullpens cleared. Brian Schneider tried to pull Polanco away from Whiteside, but fell to the bottom of the pile. The players at the bottom started beating the hell out of one another, punching and kicking and doing whatever they could under the cover of their teammates who were pushing and shoving above. Muchlinski tried to keep
Victorino away from the action, but he kept moving closer and closer. He finally pushed Muchlinski out of the way only to have Greg Gross pull him back out.Victorino’s eyes were the size of saucers. He kept watching the pile, looking for a reason to dive back in.

  Whoa, does Pablo Sandoval have Chooch in a choke hold?

  Victorino escaped Gross’ grasp, sprinted back into the pile, and tackled Giants Hitting Coach Hensley Muelens on his way to save his catcher.

  “I felt bad for Carlos,” Victorino said.

  Eventually, the pushing and shoving stopped, Victorino, Whiteside, and Ramirez were ejected, the game continued and the Phillies won handily.

  The Phillies hadn’t had a good bench-clearing brawl like that since April 22, 2004, when they battled with the Florida Marlins at Citizens Bank Park. Brett Myers gave up a solo home run to Mike Redmond with one out in the second inning. His next pitch came up and in to Alex Gonzalez, who took exception to it. He pointed and yelled at Myers. Phillies catcher Todd Pratt jumped up to protect his pitcher, benches cleared and fists started flying. Marlins pitcher Carl Pavano had Phillies third baseman David Bell in a chokehold before Mike Lowell threw Bell to the ground.

  It was a pretty good fight. But, truth be told, the best punch that afternoon actually happened before the game when Phillies reliever Tim Worrell slugged Pitching Coach Joe Kerrigan in Manager Larry Bowa’s office. Phillies pitchers didn’t like Kerrigan. He knew pitching, but pitchers didn’t like the way he communicated. He condescended. He would overhaul a pitcher’s mechanics the first time he saw him. He would print out stat packs and place them in his pitcher’s lockers. He wanted his pitchers to pitch to the stats, not how they felt the most comfortable pitching. Any pitcher or pitching coach will talk about the importance of confidence on the mound, the conviction to throw a particular pitch in a particular situation. Kerrigan ignored those feelings—pitch to the stats—and many of his pitchers hated him for it.