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Saturday, January 28, 2006

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» Beerleaguer Bellies Up to the Phillies Skipper from Balls, Sticks,
Recently, the Beerleaguer got to fulfill the dream of anyone who watches Phillies games with regularity, in particular someone whose hobby is to analyze and write about them: interview Charlie Manuel. I'm so jealous right now I can't even stand myself. [Read More]

Comments

Nice job on the interview...no wonder ol' Charlie commenced to beam. I disagree with both of you about Bell; I grant that his reflexes are good but his arm and range are average at best and he's just as likely to botch a ball as make a good play. Certainly, he's not good enough in the field to justify his offensive mediocrity. Anyhow, you brought up an interesting name, Chris Roberson, who I feel may be a good candidate to take Michaels' reserve OF role. I don't see any reason why he couldn't do at least as good a job. I hope they give him a shot like Manuel says, because he definitely deserves one by now.

Great, great work on this, J. There are two kinds of coaches: the Andy Reid, speak the message of the team coaches; and the Phil Martelli / Charlie Manuel coach who displays a good amount of candor. And, while I agree with Rick that some of it might be a little bit too optomistic, at least it's not coachspeak.

Oh, and while I'm at it, can you change my link to the new address?

Nice interview. OK, I'll bite, what was the seldom read poem?

My Most Memorable Day

by Charlie Manuel ©

Published: Cleveland Indians Website (2000)

"It was a warm day in August when history was made,
And the fans in the boxes were looking for shade.
The bases were loaded, it was the last inning.
From the sound of the crowd, you knew we weren't winning.

When out of the dugout came No. 3,
The last hope for the Twins it was sure to be.
Now legend tells of Casey at the bat,
But today it was the Killer who tipped his hat.

Cursing and swearing came from the stands,
When Harmon was waved back by Rigney's hand.
An astonishing look came over the Brew's face,
When Rigney said, 'Manuel is taking your place.'

A disbelieving look as he turned around,
Placed his bat in the rack without a sound.
Then from the bench came No. 9,
Who'd been warming the pine for a long, long time.

As he stepped from the dugout came a yell from the stands,
'You can't hit Manuel, the Killer's our man.'
Never before in history had they pinch hit for the Brew,
Especially with some hillbilly hitting .182.

This was a mockery, a dirty rotten shame,
To pinch hit for a man who's a sure Hall of Fame.
But Charlie heard not a word as he strode to the plate.
He only noticed the crowd's eyes; they were filled with hate.

'God, help me this one time,' kept going through his mind.
'If I ever get a hit, let it be this time.'
Jim Palmer looked in and thought, 'This should be a cinch,
I'll throw three by this rider of the bench.'

Down came the ball with a little white glare,
As Manuel stood watching for he knew it was there.
'Strike one,' came the call from the man in blue,
And four pitches later it was 3 and 2.

Now everything rode on the very last pitch.
Would Charlie stay a poor boy or would he suddenly be rich?
The crack of the bat and a long drive to right,
The back of Blair's uniform is the only thing in sight.

The roar from the stands gave a deafening scream...
Then Charlie fell out of bed, it was only a dream."

My Most Memorable Day by Charlie Manuel ©


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