Bill Conlin: Phillies' Good Guys since 1950

B LESSED ARE the good guys, for they shall inherit the clubhouse. Here is one man's Phillies Good Guy All-Star team - since 1950 - by position:

 

1B, Deron Johnson
 

DJ called everybody "Kid" the way John Wayne called everybody "Pilgrim" in his Hollywood horse-soldier roles. Deron was a scowling, gold-hearted, chain smoker from San Diego with an unusual offseason workout regimen. He owned and captained a commercial tuna boat that headed south in October, south of the equator, that is, to the storm-tossed but tuna-rich waters off Peru. There, he did 4 months of hard labor.

Ask him what he did in the offseason, he'd take a deep drag and flash that rumor of a grin. "A little fishing," he'd respond. Johnson was a 25-homer guy who helped turn Greg Luzinski into one of the game's best off-speed hitters and was the slickest I've seen at the position picking balls from the dirt. Ask Larry Bowa.

2B, Dave Cash
 

If you think President Obama holds the patent on "Yes We Can," think again. That was the Action Dog's mantra when he came to the moribund Phillies from the lordly Pittsburgh Pirates. It was the slogan that propelled the young Phillies to respectability in 1975 and to the NL East title in 1976.

Besides being an incandescent clubhouse and lineup presence, Cash picked greyhounds during spring training the way Lenny Dykstra picks stock options. Traveling-party members who played Dave's Derby Lane selections would be greeted the next morning by Dave chirping, "Did you?" Frequent response: "Yes we did!"

SS, Jimmy Rollins
 

Even when the best all-around shortstop in franchise history becomes a back-page tabloid headline in New York and Public Enemy No. 1 on the Mets' bulletin board, he's got a smile on his impish mug. Always the smile and the wink.

He is an athlete of the moment determined to enjoy all the great moments behind him and those still to come. He's as slick on his feet as in the field. And when Charlie Manuel was forced to rap J-Roll's knuckles twice last season for some atypical lapses of judgement, it was more like a father taking his son's car keys away for a week than a manager administering impersonal discipline.

3B, Don Money