When I was in 8th grade, my parents took me down to Clearwater for Spring Training.  I spent three of my dollars on a baseball with a Phillies logo on it, for the sole purpose of wrangling some autographs out of you guys.  That was a banner year for the Phillies, too; such perennial fan favorites like Alex Arias and Ron Gant were populating the roster, as well as a plethora of signatures that about a decade later, I cannot recognize.

My grandfather was checking out the names I had managed to get and nodded in approval of one in particular.

“Pat Burrell,” he said.  ”That’s the one I wanted to be sure you got.  He’s gonna have a great career.”

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