Bill Conlin: In 1983, it was the Dodgers who wheezed

October 10, 2008

Reprinted from yesterday's Daily News:

THERE ARE October underdogs and there are 6-feet underdogs. When the 1983 Phillies - the "Wheeze Kids" - went against the Los Angeles Dodgers, they were 6-feet underdogs.

It would be three-and-cut-free for aging Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez and a winding-down semidynasty that had given the town an 8-year run of five division titles, two pennants and the 1980 World Series trophy.

But there surely would be no World Series appearance in '83. That much seemed evident as Tommy Lasorda's Roman proboscis. The Dodgers had ended the Phillies' World Series dream in 1977 and '78, each time in four games in best-of-five series.

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Now, the team that had fired manager Pat Corrales on July 17, while tied for first place with the Cardinals, had been slapped silly by the Dodgers during the regular season. Lopsided is an inadequate word to describe a 1-11 humiliation.

But wait . . . You can win one out of 12 and still be competitive. Lose one-run and extra-inning games. Have some bad luck to hang a tattered hat of hope upon. Nope. The Phillies dug their own graves, climbed out with shovels at "present arms'' and stood passively at attention, waiting for the firing squad to march into position.

In those 12 games, the ERA of Lasorda's pitching staff was 1.09. Fernando Valenzuela and Co. had eight complete games. Five of them were shutouts, two by No. 4 starter Alejandro Pena. Bob Welch fired a one-hitter. In the five shutouts, the Phillies averaged 3.6 hits. In the 11 losses, they averaged 5.8 hits. In addition to Valenzuela, Pena and Welch, they were shut out by Rick Honeycutt.

Naturally, the Dodgers had homefield advantage. Most of the LA media packed for a week on the road. The World Series would open in Baltimore or Chicago.

The Phillies remained in character when they arrived at their headquarters in the Wilshire Hyatt Hotel. After a Monday afternoon workout the day before Game 1, Paul Owens, who had gone from the general manager's office to the dugout for the second time in his career, was enjoying the cocktail hour in the bar off the lobby when farm director Jim Baumer showed up. It didn't take long for thrown punches to accompany angry words.

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