Nineteen Eighty
The Phillies improbable run to this years World Series has me searching the recesses of my mind for memories of their last (and only) World Championship. I was 10 years old in 1980 and was really into Legos and sports. Because I was so young my memories are both hazy and filtered through the mind of a child. However I do recall that 1980 was a particularly good year to be a young Philadelphia sports fan.
The Flyers went 35 straight games without losing, making the Stanley Cup finals before falling to the Islanders thanks in part to Leon Stickle. I distinctly remember watching the final game at a distant relatives home on the Chesapeake Bay, and being so angry when the telecast repeatedly replayed Stickle’s blown call. However the greatest hockey memory of 1980 was the most fantastic sporting event that I have ever, or will ever, witness in my lifetime: the miracle on ice at Lake Placid. This was like the greatest shit ever, a bunch of American nobodies beating the mighty Russians. I was a total nervous wreck throughout the game; I was literally shaking during the third period. I remember my brother and I just going bananas when Al Michaels counted down the last seconds. We ran through the house and went outside where we beat on pots and pans. In reality the game was played hours earlier, but luckily my radio station of choice was “hot hits” WCAU and not the all news KYW. So I was sure I was watching the miracle in real time.
The Sixers also went to the finals in 1980, losing to the Lakers. Because of players like Bird, McHale, Kareem, Magic, and strangely,
Kurt Rambis, it was during this time period that my hate for both the Lakers and Celtics was birthed, hate which has continued unabated for nearly 30 years.
Like any red blooded American 10-year-old boy I collected baseball cards. This meant anytime my Mom or Dad gave me a dollar for doing some chores, I rushed off to Rogers News Agency and bought three packs of Topps trading cards. The baseball cards helped to familiarize me with all the ball players. I also remember that you could get
Phillies baseball cards at Burger King with the purchase of French Fries, so I would often try to cajole one of my parents into taking me there for a Whaler and baseball cards. One time my brother and I ate about five packs of french fries each at the Burger King across from Cottman Golf in a desperate attempt to complete our card collections.
As far as the 1980 Phillies, I really liked Gary Maddox and Bake McBride because I thought their hairstyles were awesome. I disliked Nino Espinosa, which I probably picked up from my father, who grumbled every time this dude came in to pitch. I also supported Keith Moreland over Bob Boone, who I thought was old and boring. As for Schmidt and Carlton and Rose, the big stars, I was like whatever. The Bull, Greg Luzinski had the taint of Frank Rizzo upon him. No matter what he does in his life, he is forever stuck in the 1970’s misplaying that ball against the Dodgers. Like the Dodge Dart, the Evening Bulletin and those Fishtown row homes with the wood paneling and drop ceilings, Luzinski (and his tinted cop sun glasses) is a symbol of the decaying Rizzo Philadelphia. I thought this was just my own theory, but apparently some Villanova professor wrote an entire
book based upon this phenomenon.
I distinctly remember some crucial moments during the closing portion of the 1980 season (particularly the series in Montreal that sealed the division win). I recall bits and pieces of the
National League Championship series against Houston and their garish uniforms . I remember a disputed double, or was it a triple, play where the Astros’ fielder had clearly trapped the ball, and how unhittable Nolan Ryan seemed to be. After the NLCS, the World Series was almost anticlimactic, especially since Royals' star George Brett had hemorrhoids. There were lots of signs at the Vet mocking Brett and his butt. It was cold that October and all the players wore satin jackets in the dugout. I remember Dan Quisenberry and his sidearm delivery, and Willie Wilson striking out all the time. I definitely remember when Boone dropped the foul pop and Rose caught it. That moment remains the single time I have ever felt that a Philadelphia sports team was truly destined to win. The day after the final game people were so stoked about the victory, just driving around cheering and beeping their horns. Some dudes spray painted Phillies 1980 World Champs on a wall that my school bus passed. It remained there for years.
You can see me in 
In the second inning Victorino hit the first ever Phillies post-season grand slam and thats all the Phillies needed to win. They should have scored alot more than 5 but they stranded about 50 dudes. Myers sucked in the first inning but was bailed out by Brewers goat, Corey Hart, who hit a double play ball back to the mound when the bases were loaded. From there Myers was good and even had a crucial 10 pitch at bat that ultimately resulted in a walk, shook up Sabathia, and ultimately helped lead to Victorino's grand slam. 
