View from the Left Coast by a Lefty: Part Tres - and We Catch Up to Now... Kinda Sorta

The following is the third in a three part series where a displaced Phillies fan gives insite of what its like to  root from afar. If you missed part one read it here or check out part two here.


So the 1993 season ends horribly, and we dive into 1994. Things gotta get better, right? Bang.... thanks for playing anyway. The Phils manage to get to 54-61, over 20 games out when.... STRIKE! I swear to God I was so pissed I almost gave up on baseball for good. At the time of the strike, the average salary of major league players was over $1MIL. I'm fucking sorry but that was lame. Seriously, I almost quit being a fan of the game I loved, grew up with, and played for 25 years. And then a few months later, more personal tragedy... divorce number 2. Who could really give a shit then(in my shoes)? Certainly not me. I end up moving out of my 2nd house and signing it away late 94.

The new year rolls over and I happen to meet this 5'11" natural blonde, blue eyed lady who is 19 years younger than me. We click and become roommates etc. My luck, this is the third woman in a row who gives less than a shit about sports, let alone Philly sports. Quit laughing, it's not funny. We manage to get through a couple years, which is better than the Phils. From 1995-2005 the Braves won the NL East. This set me off even more as I have personal history with Atlanta going back to 1968. Anyway, we get to the end of 1996 and I leave my job of 27 years to move to *GULP* Dallas where my lady got a 5 pay grade raise to transfer to. The Diamondbacks had been born and the BOB was halfway built when we go to Dallas. I didn't know how significant this would become until a bit later.

Before moving, I propose and she accepts my ring. So we go to a city and state which went against almost every fiber of my being. After 6 months, we buy a house that because I switched jobs my salary doesn't count toward a mortgage, so it's in her name, and I put up the $$$ for the down payment. No biggie right then. We settle in but never got married(thank god). So I'm in TX, live 3/4 of a mile from The Ballpark at Arlington, where I can see the lights from my back yard. AL baseball, fuck me. During this time the Phils basically suck ass and don't do much of anything really. Yet my lady manages to meet someone else closer in age and who made more $$$ and I was cast off. TX is really sucking hard. Then out of the blue the Diamondbacks become kings with Schill and Randy Johnson. They go to, and win, one of the best World Series ever and once again I'm nowhere near any park to see my first World Series Game. :( I admit I got goose bumps and loved it especially against Rivera and the Yanks. But I lose house number 3 anyway.

Only 2 good things came from being in Dallas: 1) I made several really good friends and 2) the Eagles beat those fucking Cowgirlz 9 straight times. But still the Phils weren't doing shit and baseball was kinda bleh except for the 2001 WS.  In 2002, out of work and minus a house and fiancé, I came back to Phoenix to be with my kids and watch my oldest graduate from UofA. Finally got a decent job but by then the Dbacks were sliding into obscurity and the Phils were in the same boat. Baseball was just kinda there and I found myself more of an Eagle and Flyer freak, but who could blame me.

In 2006, the Phils hired some hick batting coach to manage them from an AL team. *SIGH* wtf is wrong with this picture. But at least I had forgiven the baseball gods for the 94 strike and had some hope. After one season, it seemed that Charlie didn't make a lot of friends in Philly, save MVP Ryan Howard. From then on, things took off like a rocket. 2007 was that magic Jimmy Rollins "why not us?" year and began the collapse of the Mutts. Also, it didn't suck he won the MVP(2 Phils in a row, wowza). They got swept by the enfuego Rockies who turned to shit in the World Series.

And then *sniff* the magic, a perfect Brad Lidge and another World Series I couldn't go to. By this time, I'd resigned myself to never seeing a WS game during my lifetime, but it was acceptable because we won. I cried, just like in 1980, from afar but VERY HAPPY tears. To this day I have the WS Inquirer on the bottom shelf of my coffee table and don't hesitate to show it to anyone who will look. 2009 sucked, I still think we were better than the Yankees. And I *KNOW* we were better than the Giants last year.

So, we're kinda caught up to now. One last thing to inject... this past Monday I was in section 119 behind the Phils dugout with Cliff Lee on the bump. Piece of cake, not. I was left wondering who the fuck the impersonators were wearing Phils uni's. My first thought was my old high school JV team but... gaa. So there you have it. One displaced person's view on being a Phillies fan from way too fucking far away. Right now I need a cheesesteak and a decent pizza, but while it may be easy for you, it is an adventure for me. Til we meet again...

Bill Scardefield, AKA netfather

View from the Left Coast by a Lefty: Part Deux - The Mid Life Crisis years

The following is the second in a multipart explanation of what it's like to be a Philly fan living on the West Coast. If you missed the first part, you can read it here.

Once the glory of the World Series wore off, it was quickly into Eagles time, another amazing high. Again I was 3000 miles away but beating Dallas anywhere, anytime, anyhow and any way is a plus. But then, those fucking Raiders showed up and the Birds didn't (for the first half) and another big hole in my heart opened. Only good thing about that season is this picture of my son that always makes me smile.

1983! Wowza! It started with a bang. The only NBA season worth mentioning in the 80's ran into baseball season but nobody seemed to mind. Moses, Doc, et all and they dispatched those fucking Lakers four straight. Broom City Baby! After only 4 years at that time I was already sick to death of Magic Johnson crying "I never fouled nobody ref" and we shoved it right up their asses. Ecstasy again and rolling right into baseball season. Yes *ANOTHER* World Series year and I'm 3000 miles away with no hope of scoring tix or seeing a WS game in person. Personal problems aside, the high once again was invigorating and the anticipation was suffocating. Twasn't to be though and the Phils went down 4 games to 1. All games were close except the finale. No matter, the pain practically tore me in half. And Rick Dempsey was the MVP of The Series.... I mean, seriously, WTF is wrong with that picture? That in itself was worse than either the Von Hayes or Eric Lindros 5-for-1 debacles Philly fans had to endure. I thought my life couldn't get any worse until...

1984. A personal down year, author of my first divorce. Ugh. 3000 miles from home, 3 kids under age 6, and no hope on the sports horizon. Who here understands? Can I get an AMEN? I stick it out in Cali, even after my ex leaves for Scottsdale with the kids in June of 85. I did love Santa Barbara but was not destined to be as I couldn’t stay much longer. During my Cali years, I managed to get to Dodger Stadium twice, naturally to see the Phils. But 4 games in 8 years does not make for a happy Phillie fan, I don't care who you are. I hated going to L.A. but sacrificed for them.

Then we get to 1986, after being badgered by my ex-wife with 3AM phone calls, I transfer to the Phoenix area which  I now call home. Some sanity right?  BONG... WRONG. So I no longer drive 500 miles to see my kids every 6 weeks. Instead I get them every weekend. Most would be happy right? Well after being raped for child support, I could only afford a studio apt lol. But we huddled together and made it work and had a ton of fun. Managed to take my son to a couple Suns games, he was happy. Life moves on and a few years later, I got married again. Now with step children we have a house full, and I couldn't manage to make any of them a Philly fan. Take my word for it, frustrating as hell. I added my 3rd daughter in 1991, complete cutie pie, but no sports freak. Am I doomed?

1993! Praise be to Big G, another World Series year! And this time I am only 2500 miles away and drowning in little kids lmao. No matter, they all knew not to bother me during *ANY* Philly game unless someone was bleeding. Don't fucking laugh, it happened more times than I care to admit. Anyways I was ecstatic and full of hope. Once again... DESPAIR. The entire Series was hosed. Phils should have won that 6 games to none, but Wild Thing proceeded to blow 4 straight saves. That has to be a record. Don't get me wrong, I love Mitch just like the entire city of Philadelphia still does now. Nobody felt worse than he did. Christ, he had 44 saves that year. But apparently it wasn't meant to be. So I'll end this piece by saying fuck Joe Carter, may you never enter the Hall until after Pete does. Fuck the AL, the DH, and all Canadian pro sports teams that play in "American" pro leagues, hockey notwithstanding. That World Series pretty much parallels my life and luck, but I digress. I think this part should end here, because the next one has a heavy dose of Dallas in it, and that dose deserves it's very own ripping of a new asshole. So I say goodnight Gracie to Part Deux.

                                                To Be Continued… 

Bill Scardefield, AKA netfather