The Rotation (34 page)

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.

Kerrigan generally called the game from the dugout with the catcher getting the sign from him before every pitch. Worrell had enough of that. He told catcher Mike Lieberthal not to look into the dugout for Kerrigan's signs under any circumstances. So Lieberthal didn't, and Worrell blew a save in an 8-7 loss in 12 innings to the Marlins on April 21. The next day Bowa and Kerrigan called Worrell and Lieberthal into Bowa's office. The players were sitting as Kerrigan stood over them, berating them, telling them how to do their jobs, telling them he knew best.

Worrell got tired of what he heard, stood up, and did what most pitchers in the clubhouse had wanted to do: he popped Kerrigan.The blow hit Kerrigan's glasses, cutting him. Phillies coaches Gary Varsho and Mick Billmeyer sprinted into the office to help break up the one-sided fight. Kerrigan and Worrell left Bowa's office through a rear exit, so they wouldn't be detected by reporters.

The Phillies enjoyed their fight against the Giants as much as Worrell enjoyed his against Kerrigan. While the Giants barely said a word about the brawl in their clubhouse—other than suggesting that Jimmy Rollins' stolen base in the top of the sixth inning with a six-run lead could have prompted Ramirez to throw at Victorino—the Phillies happily recalled the action, often laughing and joking about it.

“Vic almost has to go, unless he wants his teammates to call him chicken,” Charlie Manuel said.

“I had no intentions of charging the mound and escalating the fight for no reason,” Victorino said. “It was the heat of the moment, and I just wanted to step forward and be like, ‘What was the purpose? Obviously, Eli, I guess from looking at his reaction, thought I was going to and he started jumping around. Obviously, Polanco came in and he tackled Polanco.”

Polanco heard Victorino's words behind a circle of reporters.

“He didn't tackle me!” Polanco said loud enough to draw a smile from Victorino.

Ryan Howard, who sprinted onto the field from the batting cage only after he heard the roar of the crowd, asked if the Phillies beat writers had started fighting the Giants beat writers in the press box. Vance Worley laughed at how he got startled once he realized how big some Giants players were compared to him. Cliff Lee joked that instead of taking a couple shots at some of the Giants pitchers he decided to take a couple shots at Kyle Kendrick, everybody's little brother on the club.

“Nah, I hit
him
in the face,” Kendrick countered.

The next day, Cole Hamels threw a complete game against the Giants in a 2-1 victory to give the Phillies a shot at a four-game sweep. Hunter Pence, who joined the team on July 30, going from last place to first place in the process, couldn't have been happier. The Phillies were 8-0 since he arrived and eating everything in sight.

“This is awesome,” he said. “This is baseball. I don't know how much of a difference I've made, but I love it.”

“Don't kid yourself,” Victorino said. “You're a big piece. You've made yourself better.You've made everybody around here better.”

The Phillies lost the series finale against the Giants, and then headed down the coast to Los Angeles for a series at Dodger Stadium. SoCal guy Mike Lieberthal stopped by batting practice to visit with his former teammates before the first game. “Hey, bud,” said Charlie Manuel, greeting Lieberthal the way the former Phillies catcher greets everyone. Holding his young son in his arms, Lieberthal was all smiles. And, of course, he broke up a few people telling the old story about the Worrell-Kerrigan dustup years earlier.

Roy Halladay and Lee beat the Dodgers in the first two games, with Kendrick getting the win in a wild series finale. The Phillies overcame a 6-0 deficit in the third inning and won, 9-8.They headed to LAX with a 9-1 road-trip record under the arm, completing their best 10-game trip in franchise history to maintain an 8½-game lead over the Atlanta Braves in the National League East.

If 1967 was the Summer of Love in California, then August 2011 was the month of fun for the Phillies in California.

“The Phillies are as good as any team I've seen,” said Braves third baseman Chipper Jones, who was following the Phillies' run from the East Coast. “I'd put them up against any of those Yankees clubs of the late 1990s and early 2000s. That club has got it going on and they are flat out playing like it, day in and day out.”

The Phillies were having a blast, finding different ways to entertain themselves along the way. Victorino worked a walk in the series opener in San Francisco, but instead of dropping his bat at home plate or flipping it toward the on-deck circle, carried it down the first-base line to have the batboy take it from him. The batboy, a Bay Area kid named Cameron Hansen, jogged out to meet Victorino, but slipped on the field and fell as he reached him, drawing laughter from the dugout and crowd. The next afternoon, there was a poster-size picture of Hansen's gaffe, captured from TV, taped to a wall in the visitors' clubhouse.

Victorino signed it:
To Cameron: Slow down . . . wet grass! Shane Victorino 8.

Before games in San Francisco and Los Angeles, the players shelved Kanye West and Kings of Leon for “Do De Rubber Duck,” a reggae song by Ernie from Sesame Street. A couple players had stumbled across the song on Strength and Conditioning Coordinator Dong Lien's iPod. Hip-hop or rock blaring over the clubhouse sound system made way when Roy Oswalt, wearing a mischievous smile, would scroll through the iPod and press play.

The night Cliff Lee beat the Dodgers in Los Angeles he not only threw eight scoreless innings to give him 17 scoreless in August, he hit a solo home run in the seventh inning to give the Phillies a 2-0 lead. The homer proved to be the game winner. But Lee had other things on his mind as he crossed home plate with a huge, giddy smile on his face. As he trotted to the dugout, he looked toward the visitors' bullpen in right field and brushed his right hand with his left hand like he was doling out imaginary hundred dollar bills. He was letting Kendrick know he owed him money.

Lee and Kendrick had made a wager on their offensive performance, and Lee had just scored big with that home run.

Oswalt made sure Kendrick got the message. Shortly after Phillies Pitching Coach Rich Dubee called the bullpen to tell Bullpen Coach Mick Billmeyer to warm up Ryan Madson, Oswalt called down to the pen. Billmeyer assumed it was Dubee telling him to have Madson take a seat, but when he picked up the phone he heard Oswalt's thick Mississippi drawl on the other end.

“Tell
Ken'rick
that Cliff wants his money in hundreds.”

Lee and Kendrick enjoy competing with one another. Inside the tiny visitors' clubhouse at Wrigley Field in July, they had a contest a couple kids might have during a lazy summer afternoon. They took one of their red belts
and bet who could hit the other the hardest. Kendrick went first. He smiled nervously as Lee stuck out his right forearm.

The hit didn't leave a mark.

“That's
dumb
,” Lee said with a tinge of disgust in his voice. “Why wouldn't you hit me harder than that?”

Kendrick knew he was screwed right then and there because Lee played to win and if he had a chance to win a belt-hitting contest, he sure as hell was going to win a belt-hitting contest. Kendrick stuck out his left forearm and Lee unleashed a vicious slap.

Lee won.The prize went to the loser: a large red welt on Kendrick's arm.

Rookie reliever Mike Stutes had started carrying a pink Hello Kitty backpack and a long pink feather boa to the bullpen in Los Angeles. It is tradition for rookie relievers to wear an emasculating backpack, which is loaded with snacks and drinks for the game, and Brad Lidge has been the keeper of that tradition for the Phillies since he joined the team in 2008. He picked up the backpack and complimentary boa—you've
got
to accessorize—before the end of the Giants series.

“That's pretty readily available in San Francisco,” he joked.

When Lee dozed on a couch in the visitors' clubhouse during the series finale in Los Angeles, teammates used white athletic tape and made an outline of the pitcher's supine body with the No. 33 in the center. It looked like a crime scene.

The Phillies were 77-40 as they flew back to Philadelphia, the first time they had been 37 games over .500 since they finished 101-61 in 1977. The rotation was doing its job, and now the offense was coming around. The Phillies were averaging 5.31 runs per game since the end of June, which was the best mark in the National League in that stretch.

They were winning and they were having a blast.