In 1997, I was interning for WPHL-17, which had the broadcast rights to the Phillies at the time. I went to most home games and kept stats, hanging out in the booth with Harry Kalas and Richie Ashburn and the rest of the broadcast team. Ashburn, my father’s favorite player, was nice enough to sign a birthday card for my dad and also announce my parents’ anniversary on the air (he died a week later).
Basically, it was a young Phillies fan’s dream. Except for one thing — the Phillies sucked out loud underwater. They were awful.
“Dutch” Daulton and his immovable knees would be traded before the deadline and “Schilling and the Space Cadets” might as well have been the nickname of the starting rotation.