The Rotation (22 page)

It wasn't long before that the Phillies were a team known for its thundering lineup, but Hamels' development and the acquisitions of Halladay, Oswalt, and Lee had turned the Phils into a pitching-based team.

The hitters were fine with that.

“It's good having the attention directed at them,” Rollins said. “We had it for a long time and now we have the right guys to get that attention and deserve it themselves.”

Placido Polanco checked in and wondered what it would be like to be an opposing hitter and have to face the Phillies pitching staff. His solution? Sick day!

“Oh, my neck hurts,” he said. “I've got the flu. That cheesesteak I just ate doesn't feel too good on my stomach.”

Once the full squad arrived, Manager Charlie Manuel gave his annual team address. Veteran Manuel observers know the skipper tends to ramble a bit when he gets loosened up. “All my speeches are different,” he once said,
“because I say different stuff.” Shy and reserved by nature, Halladay simply listened to Manuel's speech in 2010. More comfortable in his second year with the club, the always-organized, always-methodical pitcher gave his manager some advice.

“Bring notes,” Halladay said.

Manuel took Halladay's advice and stayed on point, telling the club that its success had not only made fans eager for more but it had left a target on the team's back and other clubs would be taking aim. Be ready, be prepared, and believe, Manuel told his team. Assume nothing. Make it happen.

Rollins always holds a news conference early in camp, the State of the Jimmy, as the scribes call it. It's usually held under palm trees at the picnic table behind the clubhouse and it's a highly anticipated event because the outspoken shortstop usually says something spicy, be it bold prediction or a jab at the Mets. On February 19, 2011, a little more than four years after his “we're the team to beat” comment, Rollins went big again, predicting 100-plus wins.

“But that requires being lucky enough to stay healthy and having everybody do their job on the mound, in the field, and in the batter's box,” the 32-year-old shortstop said.

Rollins alluded to the great fear of all professional sports teams—injury. Nothing can scuttle a team's hopes faster than too many trips to the MRI tube. Just three days after Rollins' prediction of 100-plus victories, news flashed across the clubhouse television that St. Louis Cardinals' right-hander Adam Wainwright had suffered a season-ending elbow injury. The news on Wainwright resonated with particular strength in the Phillies' clubhouse because he ranks among the game's elite arms, having finished second and third, respectively, in NL Cy Young voting the previous two seasons.

Wainwright's injury was a reminder to all of the fragility of pitching, not that the Phillies really needed one. Just weeks earlier, Lee had tweaked a muscle under his left armpit during off-season workouts in Arkansas. The Phillies immediately told him to stop working out and he traveled to Philadelphia for an examination. It proved to be nothing major, but the team took it slow with its $120 million investment at the start of camp. A month later, Oswalt took a line drive behind the right ear in a game against Tampa Bay in Port Charlotte. Oswalt went down in a heap, clutching the back of his head as a sunburned crowd held its breath. Thank goodness Manny Ramirez didn't get good wood on the ball. Oswalt might not have been laughing as he did the next day.

“I told Charlie I'm not supposed to be making road trips,” Oswalt said. “This is what happens when you make road trips.”

Other than Lee's early ache and Oswalt's late scare, the pitching staff accomplished its top goal in spring training. It stayed healthy. Everything else fell into place after that: the conditioning, the pitching, and the all-important bonding that turned five pitchers into The Rotation.

Every morning, the pitchers, sometimes a couple of them, sometimes all five, ate breakfast at the cool kids' table at the north end of the clubhouse. Over yogurt and fruit, they laughed and joked, talked fishing and pitching, and occasionally peeked up to see the latest highlight on the flat-screen television on the wall. One day, they all turned into autograph-seeking fans when country music ace Kenny Chesney visited the clubhouse. Another day, with camera crew in tow, they played a round of golf with MLB Network analyst John Smoltz, whose own credentials on the mound helped him score access to the spring's hottest story.

For six weeks, the pitchers worked out together in the weight room and sat in the dugout together during games. It was a perfect time to compare changeup grips, or simply get to know each other. Nearly every day, they walked off the field together, as a group, to the applause of picture-snapping fans dreaming about where this staff could lead this baseball team.

“A starting staff is a team inside a team, and when you've got five guys who like being around each other it makes it even easier,” Oswalt said. “We've got great guys on this staff. We mess around with each other all the time. If one guy's got to pitch, he feels like he's missing out what's happening on the bench. It's fun.”

Oswalt, 33, and Lee, 32, hit it off immediately, “a couple of rednecks,” from Mississippi and Arkansas, respectively, as Lee said. Before long, they were sneaking off after practice to a nearby fishing hole. Oswalt reeled in 40 largemouth bass one day.

“No way he's going to beat me,” Oswalt said of Lee.

Oswalt and Lee actually began bonding years earlier, in Philadelphia of all places. On the same day in October 2003, both pitchers had injuries repaired by Philadelphia-based surgeon William Meyers. Oswalt, then with
Houston, had a groin injury. Lee, then with Cleveland, had a hernia. The two pitchers didn't know each other at the time.

“I remember a guy being in there with me, but we were pretty drugged up coming out of anesthesia,” Oswalt said. “I remember telling the doctor I felt good and walking out of the hospital. The other guy was going to walk out but he stood up and said, ‘Noooo, I'll think I'll stay here.' ”

Eventually the anesthesia wore off and Lee left the hospital, in and out of Philadelphia so quickly that he didn't get to take in any tourist attractions. That's OK. When he rejoined the Phillies in spring training 2011, a red shirt emblazoned with the image of the Liberty Bell and the word BOOM hung in his locker. He wore it daily during spring training and it soon became the hottest-selling item back home.

Finally, after two weeks of bullpen workouts and friendly fire—pitchers throwing to teammates in batting practice—the first Grapefruit League game arrived on February 26 against the Yankees in Tampa. It would have been great theater had it been Lee's day to pitch. After all, he was the guy who did what few ever do: he turned down the Yankees, and bitterness over his decision stretched all the way to the press box.

“What day does Mrs. Lee pitch?” asked one New York wag, a clear reference to Kristen Lee's desire to have her husband work in Philadelphia and not New York.

Hamels got the ball in that first game and impressed with two strong innings in a 5-4 win. Seven years earlier, as a 20-year-old in big-league camp for the first time, he dazzled the Yankees with his vaunted changeup. Back then he was a string bean. Now, he had muscles and sturdy shoulders under that uniform and he featured a fastball that popped at 94 mph.

“I finally hit two-hundred pounds this winter,” Hamels said. “I've been chasing it since I was eighteen. I really think the extra strength will prevent me from wearing down this season.”

Larry Shenk started working for the Phillies in 1963, rising from publicity director to vice president of public relations. Shenk tells stories of driving over to Clearwater Beach in the early 1970s, back when spring training was still a mom-and-pop operation at Jack Russell Stadium, and
giving away tickets to games to spring-breakers. Now, there's no need to give away tickets to get fans to come to games. Spring training is big business, especially in Clearwater, where the top ticket is $30 and Bright House Field is packed for just about every game. In recent years, spring training has become a destination for winter-weary Philadelphians eager for a little sun on their noses and a peek at their baseball team. In March, flights from Philadelphia to Tampa are packed with fans wearing red Phillies gear. A quick stop at the rental car counter and they're off to Bright House Field, where they sit around the festive tiki bar and pound $6 Yuenglings while arguing which member of The Rotation will be the first to 20 wins.

In the spring of 2011, no Phillie was more embraced than Lee. Fans fell in love with his scruffy, blue collar, no-nonsense approach to pitching in 2009—he went 4-0 with a 1.56 ERA in five postseason starts that October—and their love for him grew deeper when he turned down the Yankees to be a Phillie again.

After more than two weeks of side sessions, Lee finally pitched in a Grapefruit League game on March 1 against the Tigers. The cheers were huge as he took the mound and the usually unflappable pitcher seemed a little unnerved by the excitement. Lee pitched 212⅓ innings in 2010, hit just one batter, and walked just 18. But in his 2011 spring debut, he hit the first batter he faced. In two innings, he allowed a walk and two runs while striking out three.

“He's still getting his spikes broken in,” said Dubee, explaining Lee's shaky debut. “Guys get a little juiced up in their first start and their deliveries are off.”

Of course, Halladay never gets too juiced up. His spring debuts in 2010 and 2011 were as eagerly awaited and wildly received as Lee's and he sailed through both without giving up a run.

Lee couldn't help but notice the electricity in the crowd as he warmed up in the bullpen before his spring debut.

“It's nice to know the fans are excited about me being back,” he said. “They have reason to be excited. We have a good squad.”

The crowds kept coming to Bright House Field and The Rotation continued to inch toward being ready for Opening Day. For the second-straight year, Halladay would get that start. With each passing day, his focus on the April 1 season opener against Houston grew sharper. He started watching video of Astros hitters and formulating a game plan 10 days before Opening Day. From his first start of the spring, Halladay looked ready to win and four weeks of Grapefruit League games had brought his competitive juices to a
boil. By the time he made his final spring start, a three-inning test drive on March 27, he was ready to burn someone. That someone turned out to be Art Thigpen.

Thigpen was the home plate umpire for Halladay's final spring start against the Braves at Disney's Wide World of Sports. With two outs in the third inning, Halladay thought he'd thrown a cutter for a strike to Nate McLouth. Thigpen called it a ball. Halladay's blue eyes turned to daggers as he stared in at Thigpen. Halladay then threw a sinker that he liked. Thigpen called it a ball. The daggers turned icy hot. Halladay composed himself and got McLouth to ground out to shortstop on the next pitch. Deep down inside, Halladay wanted to shoot one more look at Thigpen, but that isn't his style. He kept his focus, trained his eyes forward and walked off the field, ready for the regular season after a spring that saw him go 4-0 with a 0.42 ERA in five starts. In 24⅔ innings of Grapefruit League action, he allowed just 16 hits and one run while striking out 19 and walking six. With Halladay, there's no “I'm just getting my work in.” He's always there to dominate and he did it, with arm and attitude, in the spring of 2011, right down to his last pitch.

After the game, Halladay ran sprints under the searing Florida sun. His face was red and he was drenched with sweat as he met with reporters 50 minutes after staring down the umpire in a game that didn't even count.

“Jeez, you want to compete,” Halladay said. “As a pitcher, we want all the pitches we throw to be strikes.”