Staff Blog
To Live and Die With the Phillies
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One of my favorite personal, little-kid growing up with the Phillies stories happened to me in 1992. The Phils were awful that year (they won something like 70 games) but I was too uninformed to know that wasn’t just always the case (or, the WFC aside, some type of young savant) and loved getting out to the ballpark. I convinced my father to take me there as often as possible and he obliged at a fairly outrageous clip - at least once on pretty much every homestand. We sat in section 719 (it was as far back as we could get … though that never stopped me from bringing my little league glove. Every game I would wear it on my left hand until the final out was caught, and every game no ball came within like 200 feet of us) with the eccentrics, ate hoagies, kept a scorecard and cheered on the Phillies. Then, in another true testament to my father’s love, he would wait me with by the players’ parking lot as I tried to get their autographs. 95% of the time it was a useless endeavor, and the times it wasn’t (you’re the man, Bob Ayrault – whoever you may be) I promptly put the newly signed ball/card/ticket in a huge pile that probably still resides somewhere in my parents basement.
Anyway, one time we were waiting outside and Terry Muholland walks out. Now, being too young to realize that ’second best starter on a well-below-average baseball team’ wasn’t exactly an Obama-esque level of fame, this got me really excited. “Terry!” I yelled, “Terry! Over here!” frantically waving my arms trying to get his attention. Eventually he looked up, shook me off and started to get into car.
“Oh, c’mon” my Dad yelled out, looking up from a book, “the kid lives and dies with you guys.” I think this got Mulholland to pause, but my immediate followup ended any possibility him actually changing his mind “Well, mostly die.” I acknowledged honestly, causing a couple mediocre Phillies to laugh out loud at their pitcher as he slammed his door and sped away.
Anyway, I’m bringing this up because a young and innocent / still kinda douchey James Beale has nothing on Sam Steckline when it comes to dying with the Phils. When Steckline, a 56-year-old Red Lion, PA native says he lives and dies with the Phils, he means it. Jim Siep, writing for the York Daily Record, reports:
Sam Steckline stood in line waiting for Philadelphia Phillies manager Charlie Manuel to sign his urn. Asked about his unusual autograph request, the Red Lion resident smiled.
“I’m a diehard Phillies fan,” he said.
[snip]
“That’s my team,” said Steckline, who hopes to be cremated after his death. “I don’t feel like wasting land. So I’m all set when I die.”
I can’t decide what my favorite part is: Charlie being totally unfazed by the request or the writers assertion that Steckline “hopes” be cremated.
Just another day in the life of the World F. Champions, I suppose …
I think it’s time for a new category: “mostly died”
Love the categories by the way