Chris Wheeler (as told to Hal Gullan)

I’ve heard Chris Wheeler speak every summer of my life.  He’s not Harry, he’s not Whitey; he’s Wheels, the guy you can tell has a goofy grin on his face just by the sound of his voice.  I assume a book written by him would be an extension of the same demeanor.

I can picture him bent over a thick notebook (I for some reason doubt he owns a computer) with a quill pen, chuckling over the anecdote with which he’s currently filling a page.  Except someone else wrote it, while he talked in their ear.  Which is what I should have guessed, probably.

But he’s part of the Phillies tradition, so his quirks are signature of the team we all love, even if some are meandering stories and wrong answers to trivia questions.

Oh god.  Tim McCarver wrote the forward?  I’m not reading this.

(more…)

Saw a lot of “Old Ryan Howard,” the gut that people had no reason to fear in high-pressure situations.  You can see it in his eyes; he gets all caught up in the moment and thinks he’s in a movie or something, and the next thing he knows, Jayson Werth’s batting with two outs.

But four times?  That’s got to be a World Series record for the NLCS MVP.

Which was a shame, because when you hear them say Pedro pitched a beaut, they’re telling the truth.  And he did it without throwing any 72-year-old men to the ground.

"This is a ... dark day for baseball, folks."

With Game 2 behind us, buried and forgotten, FOREVER (Isn’t it shameful how long it took me to post about it? Yes), it’s time to reflect on what’s happened already and pretend that it’s good enough to take the place of two wins.

We split in New York, in Yankee Stadium, taking the first game.  Cliff Lee said “Worst case scenario, we split before we go home.”  He’s right, leaving without ANY victory would have been a shaming.  At least this way we can clinch at home, and it gives any particular bloggers with tickets to Game 5 the opportunity to see the Phils win the WS for the second year in a row.

*Cough*

So, Joe Blanton’s starting Game 4.  That’s different than what I thought would happen.

Joe Girardi was right (though he wasn’t the only one that said it) when he mentioned that Cliff can’t pitch every day. And because he can’t, there’s no rush; and to be honest, I wouldn’t mind seeing somebody else have a quality start that ends in a win.

Though of course, the weather’s going to throw a wet, windy set of dice in regards to whether or not we play tonight. Then the pitching schedule turns into a manic shit-ball for both teams, fans everywhere are pissed off and soaking wet, and Bud Selig lights a fat cigar in front of an extravagant fire place and laughs and laughs and laughs.

COLE:  I will only be able to even remotely stomach those GOD AWFUL Comcast commercials if you throw a decent start tonight.  And that’s more than you deserve, because you just spit in the face of passable acting.  I realize you’re an athlete reading lines from a teleprompter,

"Don't forget to sign up for Comcast's phone service, too, guys. It's not an obsolete concept anymore."

We may not have podcasts or “images used with anybody’s permission,” but we’ve got heart here at That Balls Outta Here.  We’ve got a heart.  Mine.  Because when I say “we” I mean, “only me.”

And that’s what’ll get us this Series at home.  Heart.  Miles and miles of heart.

Also, a quality start from the pitcher.  And Ryan Howard’s offensive assault on baseballs resurfacing.  Some early runs would be good, too.  And the Phillie Phanatic should give A-Rod a concussion of some kind by shooting him in the face with his hot dog gun at point blank range.

It’s a team sport, folks!

Take a drink every time Tim McCarver says something with the baseball know-how of an unplugged toaster oven.