The Rotation (32 page)

Protective of his golden arms, Dubee was mildly perturbed that Halladay and Lee were used for more than an inning, but even he acknowledged that winning the game could have enormous benefit to the Phillies in a few months. The issue surrounding Bochy's use of Halladay and Lee raged for a few days, and briefly when the Giants came to Philadelphia from July 26 to July 28 and Halladay and Lee's turns in the rotation conveniently did not come up. But in the end, this was a non-issue to the men who mattered most. Halladay threw 19 pitches. That's barely a trot for a horse like him. Lee threw 25 and said he wouldn't have minded going out for a third inning.

Case closed.

This was not Halladay's first All-Star start. He got the call for the American League in 2009, but didn't fully enjoy the experience because the Blue Jays, at Halladay's urging, had hung a For Sale sign on him days earlier and rumors of his being on the move flew everywhere.

In Phoenix, Doc had a blast. The man who saves his smiles for special occasions wore one on his face for three days.

“It's fun to be able to come in and talk about good stuff and enjoy it and not talk about uncertain futures,” he said. “It's been a great experience coming here with these guys.”

He was referring to Hamels and Lee, his brothers on the pitching staff.

Meanwhile, on the rehab trail, Roy Oswalt's bad back was responding well to treatment.

It wouldn't be long before The Rotation was once again fully locked and loaded.

Players returned from the All-Star break late Thursday afternoon on July 14 and boarded buses for New York. Though the mathematical midpoint of the season had passed, the first game after the All-Star break is considered in baseball circles to be the start of the second half. The Phils boarded those buses with the best record in the game and optimism for a big stretch drive was high. Not only had the Phils been a great second-half team under Charlie Manuel, but the front office had always made moves to infuse the team with a talent boost for the final months. While the team headed to New York to open a series against the Mets on Friday night, General Manager Ruben Amaro Jr. peeked in on his organization's minor-league talent in Clearwater. Amaro, who was hunting for a bat and bullpen help, spent his time in Florida classifying prospects as touchable or untouchable. His willingness to deal young talent for proven big-league help was popular in the clubhouse and with Phillies fans, who, in addition to racking up sellouts at Citizens Bank Park, had pushed television ratings for Phillies' games on Comcast SportsNet up 22 percent from the previous All-Star break.

World Series lust was at an all-time high, and the first game back from the break couldn't have gone better. Rotation pledge Vance Worley won his fifth game, John Mayberry Jr. drove in five runs, and Ryan Madson came off the disabled list in a 7-2 win over the Mets.

Hamels couldn't keep the winning going the next day. He left too many pitches over the heart of the plate, was hurt by shoddy defense, and took an 11-2 loss. Every pitcher has a nemesis and the Mets are Hamels'. The loss was his 10
^th
in 16 career starts against the Mets.

“When you play a team so often, that's bound to happen,” he said.

The game got so out of hand that the beer-fueled bachelor party in the seats in front of the press box was actually more entertaining. Well, it was until one of the revelers took off his shirt in the late innings and displayed a hideous set of man boobs. One of the partiers waved a dollar bill at the shirtless man and the whole section cackled in laughter.

Mets fans.

The Phillies bounced back the next day and won the series, their seventh straight, behind underappreciated rotation helper Kyle Kendrick. Now it was on to Chicago.

The Phillies arrived in Chicago as a brutal heat wave gripped the middle of the country. That didn't stop throngs of Phillies fans from traveling to Chicago. In the late 1990s, Phillies fans barely showed up at Broad and Pattison. Now, they go everywhere, and spend big coin to do it. They take over stadiums from Pittsburgh to San Diego. They travel like, well, Eagles fans. There is no better place to swig beer and watch baseball than cozy Wrigley Field. Phillies fans took over Wrigleyville pubs and packed the El as they rode the Red Line back and forth to their downtown Chicago hotels.

Six days after his All-Star appearance, a rested Halladay was set to make his first start of the second half against the Cubs. Phillies fans had come to Wrigley to hail their Doc. Little did they know he'd soon be needing one.

It was 91 degrees for the 7 P.M. game and oppressive humidity pushed the heat index over 100. Halladay took the mound wearing a red-sleeved undershirt, as he usually does. From the beginning, he looked uncomfortable. He did not look like himself. It wasn't so much the first-inning home run he gave up to Aramis Ramirez—that happens, especially in Wrigley—it was more the mannerisms and look on Halladay's face that said something was not right. His face was redder than usual. He frequently stretched his arms high above his head, as if trying to peel the sweat-soaked undershirt from his torso. Halladay got through the first couple of innings, but then began to wilt in the heat while working through an arduous 31-pitch third inning. Twice he hunched over his knees, like Bobby Clarke waiting for a faceoff, and took deep breaths as he strained to fill his lungs with air and cool his overheating body.

Chase Utley is one of Halladay's favorite teammates. They both have serious personalities and an intense, get-in-my-way-and-I'll-kill-you approach to the game. From his post at second base, Utley could tell that his baseball brother was having problems in the heat. Utley tried to buy some time for Halladay. He whistled for the umpire, asked for time out and bent down to tie his shoes, which really didn't need tying at all. Halladay appreciated the gesture and went into a catcher's crouch while Utley methodically untied his shoes and tied them again.

Halladay removed his undershirt after the inning and team athletic trainers tried to cool his body with frozen towels.

Dubee asked Halladay if he wanted to come out.

Halladay was emphatic. He wanted to stay in.

He got through the fourth inning and came out for the fifth. He threw one pitch and seemed to have no idea where it was going. Clearly hurting, he backed off the mound and took a deep breath as his eyes briefly seemed to roll into the back of his head. Halladay signaled for catcher Carlos Ruiz to come to the mound and Dubee and athletic trainer Scott Sheridan followed. The bulletproof pitcher could not go on.

“He was lightheaded,” Dubee said. “He was having a tough time focusing and seeing the signs.”

Halladay was treated by two doctors in the clubhouse. He was diagnosed with heat exhaustion and dehydration. The next day he was back at the ballpark, looking as if nothing ever happened.

“I thought I could get through it, but that last inning I felt like I was about to get wheeled off the mound,” he said.

A number of factors played a role in Halladay's overheating that night. Obviously, there was the temperature and humidity. Jimmy Rollins likened it to “one of those old days at the Vet when you'd stick a thermometer in the turf.” The venue didn't help. Wrigley Field is 97 years old and lacks the amenities of modern parks. The clubhouse is small and narrow, like a truck trailer, and the cramped dugouts turn into brick pizza ovens on hot days. Halladay couldn't even seek relief in the tunnel behind the dugout because an exhaust vent from a nearby clothes dryer was pumping out hot air.

“Between innings I couldn't get away from the heat,” he said. “I couldn't escape it. It got to the point where I kept getting hotter and hotter and I couldn't stop it.”

The incident was so scary that the next day Cubs officials opened an air-conditioned room behind the dugout for pitchers to use as a retreat between innings.Vance Worley benefited from it two days after Halladay could have used it. Rollins even sneaked in there as the temperature rose to 97 in the series finale. Halladay, fully recovered, was able to throw a bullpen session before that matinee game. Except for a tour group winding its way through the stands, the old ballpark was empty as Halladay did his work that morning.As Halladay made his way back to the clubhouse after his bullpen session, a young boy sneaked away from the tour group and shouted to the pitcher as he was about to disappear down the dugout steps. Halladay turned, waited for the boy, and signed his baseball. The boy ran back to the tour group with a lifelong memory in his hand.

The visit to Chicago was memorable for other reasons for Halladay and members of the Phillies traveling party. It was downright scary watching him melt on that pitchers mound.

Several days after the incident, it was revealed that Halladay had battled a stomach virus the night before the start. He did not admit that when he spoke about the incident with reporters because, like Utley, he is loath to talk about health issues that can be interpreted as excuses.

Halladay is a man who prides himself on pitching deep into games, finishing what he starts. For years, big, tough major-league managers have felt heat from his glare when they dare to take him out of the game too early. Halladay tried to stare down Mother Nature on that searing night in Chicago, but she got the win. She pulled back the mask and revealed that there was a human being behind that robot. And if you didn't think Halladay was a little humbled by it all, check this out: he actually initiated some small talk with a couple of reporters the next day. It must have been cooler in Hell than it was in Chicago.

Charlie Manuel walked up the dugout steps and into the Friday afternoon furnace that was Citizens Bank Park on July 22.

“It's hotter than a two-peckered billy goat,” said Manuel, who has a one-liner for all meteorological conditions.