What they have at Citizens Bank Park is a license to print money. And unlike past ruinously timid and frugal regimes, these Phillies do not hold on to that money in clenched fists. They have been bold and assertive, and have not hesitated to write a check for big-ticket items.
What they have done is sneak up on us. We are unaccustomed to such sustained, and sudden, prosperity. It was not so long ago, remember, that the Phillies suffered their 10,000th defeat, most ever by a team in any sport. Now they are the world champions and headed for the postseason for the third year in a row. Heady stuff.
Their core is young, presumably with vintage years still to come. So is it heresy to suggest that they are on the verge of - ssshhh - a mini-dynasty?
They bring to mind the Fightin's of another generation, those of the late 1970s: Schmitty and Bow, Boonie and Bull, Lefty and Garry Lee.
These Fightin's have endured and have shown resiliency - even in the throes of a rare losing streak, they do not panic. So September beckons now, and unlike the two preceding years, they are the pursued. It is their balance, it says here, that should see them safely through, and then on into October.
What impresses you is how they take turns. Four of them should end up with more than 30 home runs. Four have a chance at 100 RBIs, five at 100 runs.
Early on, it was every dog's favorite player - Ra-a-a-u-u-u-l-l-l - who carried them. Ever since an injury, Raul Ibanez has labored with his stroke and timing. So into the breach now steps the Big Bopper. One moment Ryan Howard is still hopelessly flailing at sliders tantalizingly out of his reach, and the next he is launching home runs that ricochet off satellites.
Jayson Werth insisted he could be a productive player if given something more than half a dozen at-bats a month. Show me, Charlie Manuel said, and so Werth did.
