As a kid, who grew up in South Jersey, I started my early life becoming a big sports fan. I was in first grade when I first started to get interested in sports. My first love was baseball. A group of friends (Dicky, Joey, Georgie, and myself) became baseball cards and coins fanatics. Part of our time would be spent cashing in soda bottles and whatever money we could gather to head to the small store down the road and purchase a package of cards. Then the wheeling and dealing would begin. Trading was a big pastime for us. As with all kids, if you could land the big trade and walk away with a hidden smile on your face, your day was complete!
The players that none of us really wanted would land in the spokes of our bicycle tires, along with a clothespin, to give our bikes that clicking sound as we rode around the neighborhood. The coins made us feel like wealthy dealers toss our coins around as if we were in a high-stakes poker game.
It was a great feeling when I got my first sports hero's baseball card, Johnny Callison. With trading cards, we all began to learn more about baseball and who the all-stars of the game were. If you didn't know who was who, it became an instant bonus as you traded with less knowledgeable card collectors. Going to school on the bus looking through my cards was a way to get ready for the open market during recess that day.
By 1963, a new Phillies player came to town who really got me into baseball, Richie Allen. Between Callison and Allen, I became a huge Phillies fan. Names like Johnny Callison, Richie Allen, Clay Dalrymple, Cookie Rojas, Tony Taylor, Bobby Wine, Tony Gonzalez, Rick Wise, and Chris Short became a part of my everyday conversations. And in 1964 having Jim Bunning made them a team I knew would go somewhere. Unfortunately, where they went was not what I expected of them.
It was about this same time that I then began to get interested in football. Oh, those glory days of Joe Kuharich and Norm Snead! For the next several years, all I could recall was how much they sucked. I wasn't sure who I disliked more Kuharich or Snead. All I could remember was it seemed that every pass Snead threw was an interception. The pain of watching the Eagles would last from the mid-'60s until the arrival of Dick Vermeil in 1976.
Win today, and we walk together forever.
Fred Shero, 1974
The mid-60s through the '70s were a painful time to be a Philadelphia fan. The only satisfying moments were when the 76ers came to town and brought over Wilt Chamberlain from the Warriors, who at that time played in Philly. Their championship in 1967 seemed to be a fleeting memory when after the following year they delt Wilt to the Lakers. This would begin a pattern, at least in my mind, of Philly teams foolishly getting rid of their star players. I was further crushed when Dick Allen was traded to the Cardinals in 1970.
In the late 60s, I had a paper route delivering the Evening Bulletin. The best part of that was in the summertime in reading the sports section I wouldn't get the "game ended too late" message that would come with the morning paper during baseball season. The only bad part was my dad being a Yankees fan would make a habit of showing me the standings which usually showed the Yankees as the top and the Phillies in the basement.
One bright spot in the early to mid-1970s was the Flyers. The first few years, I really didn't follow them at all. In high school, I had a friend who got the fever for the game and would constantly talk up hockey. By 1972, I started to tune into their games. To this day, I miss hearing the voice of Gene Hart calling their games. I can remember skipping school in my senior year to go to the parade.
However, as with other Philly teams disappointment would follow after winning their second cup the following year. I can remember in 1980, I was living down in Ocean City. That Saturday, I had to work and so I brought along my radio to listen to game six of the Cup Finals against the Islanders. To this day, my blood pressure goes up when I think of the offsides that was never called. I can remember working at a condo and at the time was cleaning the parking lot when Stickle missed the call. Here I was on May 13, 1980, out in the middle of this parking lot which was pretty empty since the summer season hadn't begun yelling a screaming about the game.
However, sweet revenge would arrive in the fall of 1980, when the Phillies won the World Series. I can remember watching the Phillies beat the Expos on the second to last day of the season, 6-4 on October 4, 1980. On October 21, I decided to go to Gregory's in Somers Point to watch the game. There was a large crowd there considering it was off-season. When the Phillies won game six after the bar gave out free champagne and everyone toasted, I ran to the payphone (remember them) and made a call to my dad. The first thing out of my mouth was "how're the Yankees doing?" The next day, I was in Philly celebrating the victory!
That joy would continue into the winter, as the Eagles headed to the Super Bowl. I was fortunate enough to have tickets to the Divisional Championship game against the Vikings. I remember how freezing cold it was but the victory certainly made up for it! The following day, I left to spend time in the Bahamas knowing upon my return I had tickets waiting for me upon my return to the conference championship. We were to return from the Bahamas on January 10th. The night before I got food poisoning and spent the night getting sick and struggling to make it home the following day. The debate began about whether I could make it to the game the next day. It was to be bitter cold, I was still feeling sick, and in the end, decided to give up the tickets and stay home. I can recall being at my parent's house, along with my girlfriend at the time, and thinking we should have gone to the game! To this day, I regret that decision. However, the one thing I learned is I would never give up an opportunity like that ever again and would let anyone who had such an opportunity never give it up! Priceless!