Phillies Fans - Try and Enjoy This Time

There is only one good thing I can see to come out of the SEPTA strike - it gave a large contingent of disgruntled Phillies fans something else to gripe about.

What a bunch of short memory ingrates!

I am certainly not talking about ALL Phillies fans, just the loud ones who go on talk radio and force themselves in front of the TV cameras to give all of us a bad name.

You know the ones who were complaining about Charlie Manuel, Cole Hamels, Brad Lidge and Ryan Howard, aka the 2008 Manager of the Year, The 2008 World Series MVP, the 2008 Closer of The Year and the 2009 NL Championship MVP. The "what have you done for me lately" Phillies fans blamed that group for not winning the World Series - that would be the 2009 World Series, the Phillies first back-to-back appearance in team history, after winning its first World Championship in 2008 after a 28 year drought.

Yep, we sure have a lot to complain about.

This is not a new phenomenon, it is uniquely Philadelphia. I have a friend who was a stand-up comic in Philadelphia. After the 1908 World Series win, he joked tat Phillies fans immediately said, "They suck. They can't do it next year."

Fast forward to 2009 and the joke becomes real.

To the 2009 Phillies I say "Thank You." What a wonderful ride you are taking us on - I know its not over yet. With a front office brilliant at filling holes (Lee, Pedro, Ibanez and Feliz), a core group of great players still coming into their prime (Howard, Rollins, Werth, Utley and Victorino) and some great Rookies ahead of us (Taylor, Drabek and Brown), I know you could return to the World Series again and again.

Thank you for a team of fine men who are wonderful role models for my kids. Thank you for caring enough about the city to get involved in community and charity events. Thank you for this most memorable time in Philadelphia sports history - I know this may never happen again.

And for the Philadelphia sports fans who may still be griping - relax. It is okay to enjoy this. I know we have been burnt before by false prophets like Eric Lindros, Sean Bradley and Von Hayes. I know you have watched Joe Carter, Chicago Fog and Magic Johnson steal your dreams.

Let it go. It's okay.

This team won a World Championship and it may not be the last. This is the like the Eagles teams of the late 40's and the Flyers of the early 70's. This seems to happen once every 30 years, so it may be a long time before this ever happens again.

Enjoy the moment. You'll have plenty of time to gripe in the years ahead, believe me.

We Get no Respect!

The following was posted on Major League Baseball's web site last night:



I know they are drooling over a possible New York-Los Angeles World Series, but c'mon! The Phillies are the World Champs - a little respect, please.

Thank you to Thomas Babcock for seeing this last night and sending it to me. He writes that it was up on the site for sometime.

He also reminds us of another famous wrong headline:



And then with the help of Photoshop takes a swipe at MLB:



Thanks Thomas - Nice work!

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Thank You For A Wonderful Summer

To all of the people who have emailed, tweeted or sent me a message on Facebook or Linkedin - To all of the families from the Delaware Valley who approached me in Disney World, on the Ocean City Boardwalk, at the Phillies game, at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire or at the store - For all of the "Hope to see you on the air soon," "Hang in there," "Hold your head up," "We are big fan" or just a "Yo, Lar" - thank you.

You have all made me realize that this is more than just a place to live - this is home. And there is no place like home.

The Modest Cost Of Immortality

by Larry Mendte

The year was 1968. I was 11 years old, in 6th grade at St. Philomena's grade school in Lansdowne.

All of the Philadelphia sports teams were bad to mediocre, but it didn't matter. In my neighborhood, the Phillies were gods. We all collected Topps trading cards in hopes of getting Chris Short or Cookie Rojas. You took your stack of cards to school with you and flipped them in the playground during recess; farthies, topsies and leansies were the big "flip" games. When you lost, you had to forfeit the cards you flipped, which is why you never, ever used the Phillies cards. In Lansdowne, 1968, Carl Yastrzemski and Hank Aaron were expendable, Clay Dalrymple and Don Lock were untouchable.


My brother's favorite player was Richie Allen, by far the best Phillies player. I didn't know it at the time, but in 1968 my brother took some grief for liking Allen, considered an angry black man by some in the white neighborhoods. Allen did seem angry, but he had his reasons in a sport and fan base that had only slowly evolved since Jackie Robinson. Robinson had the temperament to take the racially charged jeers, Allen did not. You may argue, why should he have to and the only answer is not sufficient - it was 1968.

The favorite player in my class was Johnny Callison and so he was my favorite, mostly by default.

But that would change.

I was in Center City Philadelphia with my father. He would often take me along when he had a quick business meeting or when he was dropping off a manuscript. We were waiting for an elevator in the lobby of a high rise. The doors opened and out walked one of my Dad's advertising colleagues and some other men. My father chatted for awhile and then introduced me. The man looked at me and said, "Larry, are you a Phillies fan?" I smiled and nodded my head with a definitive yes!

The man then said, "Do you know who this is?" He pointed to a tall, athletically built man standing next to him. I didn't recognize him right away.

The man continued, "Larry, meet Tony Gonzalez." My jaw dropped. The Phillie's center fielder smiled at me, said "Hello" with a thick Latin accent and mussed my hair with the biggest hands I had ever seen.

That was it. Tony Gonzalez then shook my father's hand. The men all said goodbye. Tony smiled at me one more time and waved goodbye. I waved back, but never broke my stare or my slack jawed expression. I watched as he walked out the revolving doors and onto Market Street. My father had to pull me into the elevator and out of my state of shock.

From that brief, chance encounter on - Tony Gonzalez was my favorite player.

I was devastated, just a few months later, when the Phillies didn't protect Tony in the expansion draft. He was selected by the San Diego Padres.

I needed a new favorite team. For four or five years I turned my back on the Phillies to root for the Chicago Cubs. I already loved Ernie "Let's play two" Banks, so it was an easy transition.

1969 was a bad yeard to become a Cubs fan. Despite having the most talent in baseball with Fergie Jenkins, Billy Williams and Ron Santo, they took an historic swan dive in September and lost the pennant to to Amazing Mets.

I think it was God's way of punishing me for forsaking my rightful team.

Tony Gonzalez had a bad time of it too. Despite being the opening day cleanup hitter for the brand new San Diego Padres in 1969, Tony had a bad start, batting just .225 with 2 home runs. After 53 games, Tony was traded to the Atlanta Braves. He played their for one more season and then ended his career in California with the Angels.

Tony Gonzalez wore a Phillies Jersey for 9 of his 12 seasons in the majors. Lifetime Tony Gonzalez was .286 hitter with 103 home runs. He was a fast, slick center fielder.

He was a slightly better than average player. But that doesn't matter - he will always be my favorite simply because he took the time to be nice to me.

I have meant a lot of ball players since, but none have had the impact of my first. And all he had to do was say hello and smile.

I was thinking of that as I watched the Phillies the other night on TV. I remember taking 13 year old Andrew Accardi to a Phillies game to meet Chase Utley. Andrew has cancer and is being treated at Children's Hospital in Philadelphia.

Andrew loves baseball and I asked the Phillies if he could stop by to meet one of the players. It was Chase Utley and he couldn't have been nicer. He spent time with Andrew, gave him a jersey and asked "if it was okay" if he had his picture taken with Andrew.

It was one of those teary-eyed moments that no one who saw it will forget - especially not Andrew Accardi.

Chase Utley knows who he is and the impact he has on children. Baseball players exist to give children someone to cheer for, someone who they can aspire to be. Baseball players are unlike any other sports figures.

I wish more of them would realize that.

Next time you are at a Phillies games, scan the stands. You will see families with lots of children. Children wearing Phillies jerseys and carrying gloves as if they may be asked to join the game at any minute - or in years to come.

They are the future of baseball - future players - future fans.

And they will be fans because of the time they spent with family, because of a chance encounter with Tony Gonzalez, because of the kindness of Chase Utley.

The players need to remember the influence they have over the future of the sport. Baseball has a personality, it has suffered through strikes a steroids, but it can be saved with a few autographs, school visits and kindness.


As much as Batting Averages, Homeruns and ERA's, a players success is measured in inspiration. While many greater players are forgotten, Tony Gonzalez will live forever in my memory. Sometimes immortality only costs a smile.

'YO!"

a lesson in Philadelphia linguistics
by Larry Mendte

"Yo Lar!"

I know I'm in Philly when I hear those two words. I have worked in TV across the country, in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles and nowhere else do I get "Yo Lar!" Those two words mean I'm home.

"Yo!" is as Philadelphia as cheeseteaks and Billy Penn. In fact I'm pretty sure William Penn was the first person to use the word "yo" on the North American continent. He said, "Yo! What are ya doin'? I said Penn-Sylvania, not Pencil-vania. Whadaya dumb or sumptin? Now redo the sign."




Of course, "yo" was made famous and synonymous with Philadelphia by Sylvester Stallone. Who, after intense studying of the Philadelphia dialect, concluded that if he just said "yo" a lot, he would pass for a local. The word is used 41 times by Rocky in the movie. Of course, every "yo" can have a different meaning.

When Rocky was courting his future wife Adrian, he knew how to make a Philly girl swoon. He said, "Yo, Adrian, I'm not used to tawkin' to a door." In South Philly that is some real romantic stuff, analogous with "What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun."

"Yo" can be found in some dictionaries. Others pass by "yo" and go straight from "Ymir" to "Yobbo." Ymir is a giant from whose body the gods create the world in Norse mythology. Yobbo is a British slang word for a lout or a yokel. I think you have to be one Ymir sized Yobbo to put British slang and words from Norse mythology in your dictionary and not one of the coolest words ever invented right here in the USA.

Now I know there are some lexicographers out there reading this who take exception. (Oddly enough, my blog is big with the lexicographer crowd. Lexicographers and circus clowns, oddly enough. We've done the research.) The expression "Yo" dates back to 15 century England according to many word historians. So it is very possible that Shakespeare first wrote, "Yo, what is that freakin light? Oh, it's just you Juliet," and then edited it later.

English sailors used the term "yoho" or "yo heave ho" and there is a theory that those sailors started saying that in Philadelphia and it stuck. But knowing that saying the words "Yo ho" to a woman in South Philly can get you pummeled by both her and her brothers, the word was shortened to just "Yo!" The only "yo" combination more lethal than "yo ho" is "yo mamma."

Still others theorize that the word "yo" is just an old form of "you," as in "Hey you!" That one seems to make the most sense to me because "Hey you!" is definitely one of the most common meanings of the word "Yo." But there are so many uses, so many definitions for this under-rated world.

It wasn't until the year 1992 that "yo" had it's coming out party. That's the year Philadelphia's word was begrudgingly accepted by the philology elite, 16 years after Rocky introduced it to the rest of America. On page 2,071 of the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition is the following entry:

yo (yo) interj. Slang. Used as a greeting or to attract someone's attention.

Nice try. To limit "yo" to its bare bones meaning is to ignore the spiritual essence of the word. I agree with Scott Huler of the Daily News who was the first to write about yo's 1992 ascension into the mainstream. Huler wrote, "Though its inclusion in the dictionary is a nice, validating touch, the Zen truth of yo is this: if you have to look up what it means, you don't know nuthin."

That is the Tao of Yo.

It's all in the inflection. If someone is about to take the last piece of pizza, after already eating four pieces, a strong "Yo!" means "Don't you dare." If a man is walking with his head turned to look at a young girl walking past him and doesn't see that he's about to walk into a street sign, you might say a quiet "Yo" to your friend, meaning "Watch this." If someone rubs up against you funny trying to get to a movie seat, an incredulous "yo" means "Hey your rear end is way too close to my face."

The list goes on and on. "Yo" is our all purpose word. It may be the only true Philadelphia word. Embrace it. Use it. Be proud. And don't worry that it's now spreading in popularity, that screenwriters, hip-hop singers and smack-down wrestlers use it as if it's their own. They are just trying to be like us.

But know this. It never sounds right coming from their non-Philly mouths. "Yo dude, like, wow, look at those gnarly waves," just hurts to listen to. (By the way, I have come to the conclusion that the words "yo" and "dude" are synonyms. "Dude" is just a west coast version of "yo." So to use them together is redundant, it's simple grammar.)

Mike Schaffer of the Philadelphia Inquirer is quoted as adopting a policy on who should be allowed to use the expression and who should not. "No one should be allowed to say yo who doesn't know who Willie the Worm was," according to Schaffer. Famous Philadelphian Clark DeLeon thought that was "a pretty constructionist ruling." DeLeon writes, "I would have gone with Bertie the Bunyip."

I happen to think both requirements are out-dated. How about this? If you know the entire "Tobar the Eighth Man" song, you may use the word "yo." If you know the name of Gene London's place of employment, you can use the word "yo." Or if you know what a "shoobie" is, you can use the word "yo." ("Shoobie" will be my next Philly linguistics lesson. I am a "shoobie" and proud of it.)

So if you pass that easy test, go ahead and yell "Yo Lar!" at me on the street or on the Ocean City boardwalk or at a Phillies game. It will be music to my ears. It reminds me that I am part of an exclusive club. I'm from Philly.