Phinally Pheel a Connection - addendum

This column expresses what I was talking about in my previous post about the Phillies; Phil Sheridan says it so much more eloquently than I did, though. I suppose that's why he's a columnist for the Philly INQUIRER and I'm sitting here in a college library, blogging.

I'm glad, though, that it "wasn't just me" seeing a sudden flash of character in this episode.

In a flash, Phillies showed their character
By Phil Sheridan
Inquirer Columnist
July 10, 2007

The Phillies help the Colorado Rockies grounds crew wrestle with a wind-blown tarp during a storm at Coors Field in Denver.The players and coaches rushed out to help Sunday after gusts lifted several crew members into the air and under the tarp.

One of the great things about sports is the way competition reveals character. Through triumph and defeat, through adversity and success, we can learn something real about people.

The Phillies took that to another level Sunday in Denver. As we hit the pause button on the baseball season, it's worth taking a moment to recognize what happened when a freak gust of wind turned the routine of covering the infield with a tarp into a dangerous, scary situation.

With no time to consider how it would play on SportsCenter, with no public-relations consultants whispering in their ears, with no regard for the risk of injury, the Phillies ran onto the field and helped the Colorado Rockies' grounds crew get the tarp safely under control.

Watch the video and it's remarkable. As soon as it became apparent there was a crisis - several members of the hardworking, underappreciated grounds crew were trapped in the wildly lurching tarp - the entire Phillies dugout emptied.

Denver Post columnist Terry Frei, calling it a "bench-clearing squall," marveled at the sight of the reigning National League MVP, Ryan Howard, using his home-run hitting strength to yank on the tarp and help hold it in place.

In the one moment that mattered, the Phillies, to a man, did the right thing. The Rockies, except for one man - reliever LaTroy Hawkins - did what most baseball teams would do. They retreated to the clubhouse to wait out the rain delay.

The Phillies' actions won't win them the Congressional Medal of Honor. Heck, they won't win any baseball games. They won't change the makeup of the bullpen or restore health to some of their injured pitchers. All the Phillies' selflessness will change is the way people see the players as men.

That is no small thing in these days of steroids and growth hormones, of dogfighting rings and gunfights outside strip clubs, of pouting superstars demanding trades. Even basically decent professional athletes operate behind a carefully built wall that separates them from the fans who make those lucrative contracts and wonderful lifestyles possible.

Occasionally, there will be a press release about a charity event or an appearance at a hospital. Maybe the player is raising money for a foundation dedicated to fighting a particular illness or helping a worthy cause. These events generally feature photo opportunities.

Now, there's plenty of good in all of that. Don't read this as criticism of well-meaning athletes doing perfectly admirable deeds. The point is that these events are carefully controlled and designed to present a buffed and polished image of the player. They are more stagecraft than a true glimpse into a player's character.

Sometimes you get a flash of real insight during a game, whether it's good (Aaron Rowand running into the fence to catch a ball) or bad (Carmelo Anthony punching an opponent, then running for his life) or open to interpretation (Terrell Owens' touchdown celebrations).

Moments like the one in Denver on Sunday, when an unexpected occurrence requires a pass/fail test of human nature, are the rarest of all.

It was a little over four years ago that 13-year-old Natalie Gilbert forgot the words to the national anthem before an NBA playoff game. Sixers coach Maurice Cheeks, then with the Portland Trail Blazers, stepped in, offering a steady hand and a shaky voice in support. Cheeks saw a kid in need and reacted. The world saw a completely honest, unrehearsed act of simple human decency.

Simple doesn't mean common. The reaction to Cheeks' kindness - national TV coverage, newspaper columns, more attention than he ever got for coaching the Trail Blazers - suggests we don't expect to see anything that genuine from a professional sports figure.

The Phillies rushed the field Sunday with the same pure, instinctive decency. Shane Victorino threw all of his body weight into dragging the tarp back into place. Jimmy Rollins was in the thick of it. So was Adam Eaton, the Phillies' starter that day. Abraham Nuñez helped throw sandbags into place to secure the tarp. Coach Jimy Williams, who is 63, led the charge.

Granted, it isn't as though they rushed a machine-gun nest. But in a sport where players can miss weeks or months with a strained oblique muscle, it was most assuredly a case of selfless concern for the grounds crew outweighing personal interests.

You watch these Phillies - Rollins and Howard, Rowand and Chase Utley, Victorino and Carlos Ruiz - and you can't help thinking they are basically a good bunch of guys.

Now, you know.

Contact columnist Phil Sheridan at psheridan@phillynews.com.
Read his recent work at http://go.philly.com/philsheridan.
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