Evolution of the DPF Garage

    This is the story of how the DPF Garage evolved. It isn't going to start or end exactly where you think. I grew up in Oxford Circle in Northeast Philly. Blocks of rowhomes, where on any given summer night, neighbors would be out on their porch or minimal grass listening to the radio, sitting on braided lawn chairs while having a beverage of their choice, and listening to the Phillies. Some ingenious people would have a long electric cord and bring a TV out to watch the game. In my pre-teen mind, this is something I loved. My own little space to enjoy the game.

    In 1983 my parents rehabbed the basement into a rec room. Gone was the garage and its sliding door, with only a small space for my Dad's workbench and tools that had its own door, separate from the wood-paneled rec room. I brought an old radio into that room and listened to the Phils games alone most time. This is where the glint of the DPF Garage began. 

    As I entered drinking age and then legal drinking age, my neighborhood had bars/pubs scattered throughout. My place to go and watch games became Heron's on the corners of Summerdale and Oxford. Our Dad's went there and then the sons and daughters followed. I loved the Phillies chatter before, during and after the game. Combine that with 60-cent frosted mugs and I was in heaven. I believe this is where DPF itself started.

    The bar or pub was my place of choice to take in games for much of my early to mid-20s. Around this time I moved to Glenside and Union Jack's was my new Heron's. I can recall wanting something of my own. Something like my Dad's small tool garage room to enjoy the game instead of always going out. Now I can't recall if I bought this at Caldor or Clover, but I know it was an outdoor gazebo complete with mosquito netting. I set this up in my backyard to enjoy the Phils games and drink. I dubbed this structure "The Boozebo" and it was well-known in Upper Dublin and Glenside for being a great place to talk or listen to the Phils and have some drinks during the Spring and Summer. The Boozebo was ruined by a storm, another one erected and it also fell to the same fate. I was close to what I wanted, but not there yet.

    This is where the current garage in Fox Chase came into the picture. It is a 2-story detached garage that for years was filled with old furniture, tools, a mammoth gas snow blower, and other assorted odds and ends. Well, I purged a bunch and then moved all the items to one side of the garage and that is where the DPF Garage was born. Me sitting on a tailgate chair with an old-time radio sitting on a re-purposed old kitchen counter and listened to games. To say I was in heaven would be an understatement. However, I wasn't satisfied and wanted more.

    The DPF Garage as we now know it was ready for Opening Day 2023. In January, I moved all the tools and assorted items to the 2nd floor. A bar was built, the backbone of the garage. Pallet and barn wood were put on the walls. The floor was epoxied, a cinder block wall painted Phillies maroon, a TV hung, and then the Edison light stapled to the exposed rafters of the garage. The old-time radio still had its rightful place in the DPF Garage. I acquired a kegerator, re-purposed an old house fridge as a beer fridge, and bought stools and minimal decor for the wood walls.

    I finally had my only space to enjoy the game. However, I missed the camaraderie of fellow Phils fans and friends. This is where the DPF Garage excels. It is filled with awesome people for many games. People who share my love and passion for the Phillies/ I have been a lifetime Phillies fan and I can honestly say that if I am not at the game, there is nowhere else in the world that I want to watch or listen to the Phils. I think if you have been at the DPF Garage, you would agree. 

    

    

    

Philly. Proud.

Trea Turner's message to the fans.

What happened this past weekend? Has Philadelphia gone softer than a pretzel floating in the Schuylkill? Are we going to start saying "waht-er" now? Will we put flowers in the hands of the Rocky statue?

Fuck no, and youse are fuckin' nuts if youse think so. We just had a moment of understanding. A moment of, dare we say, clarity? You might have heard of the standing ovation that rocked the world. The baseball world, at least. 

The Phillies had just gone 4-3 on a quick, 7-game road trip to Pittsburgh and Miami. Sounds respectable, right? Well, after losing two of three to a Pirates team that started the series 12 games under .500, the Phils bounced back to take three of four from the Marlins in Miami. Losing two to Pittsburgh is unforgivable, but the lone loss in Miami is what stung the most: an extra-inning clunker in which the Phils bullpen blew save opportunities in the 9th, 10th, and 11th innings. The game, and potential sweep of a division/wildcard rival, belonged to the Phillies. Except... 

With two out in the bottom of the 10th, Trea Turner missed a routine grounder that allowed backup Marlins catcher Jacob Stallings (a 6'5", 225-pound ghost runner) to score from second to tie it at 8-8 after Alec Bohm knocked in Rudolfo Castro to give the Phils their second extra-inning lead, 8-7. A 1-2-3 top of the 12th by the Phillies paved the way for the Marlins' 9-8 victory.

After the game, Turner offered no excuses and accepted responsibility for his poor play - something he has had to do far too frequently during the first of an 11-year, $300 million contract. Over the road trip, Turner hit 3-29 with 7 strikeouts and made his 13th fielding error of the season, which ties for second-most in his career. 

Rob Thomson has tried dropping Turner down in the lineup, given him days off, and even benched the superstar - all in hopes of providing a jump start. Nothing seemed to work. After the loss in Miami, fans back in Philly began to whisper... 

Maybe the boos and insults aren't working, either. Maybe we, as a fanbase, need to show our support. Maybe that will help Turner break out of this funk...

While credit has been given to WIP host Jack Fritz for the idea, it appears that several Phillies fans tossed around the notion of giving Trea a standing ovation when he returned to Citizens Bank Park. The fans in Philly are so genuine, so knowledgeable, and so passionate, that maybe if we take Turner into our embrace and wrap him in positivity, he'll start to feel better. If he feels better, perhaps he'll play better. If he plays better, perhaps the Phillies won't lose to the fucking Pirates or blow three saves in one game.

But why would we cheer for a man making $300 million? Why would we tell him it's all going to be ok? What the fuck is this world coming to? We didn't tell Ben or Carson that all was going to be ok. That's not our style. We hold our professional athletes to account, dammit! We spend our hard-earned, blue-collar dollars to watch these "professionals" win games. We don't care about their feelings. But, maybe we should.

Trea Turner has sucked this year. We already told him so, and he's already admitted it. And that's what separates him from our love/hate relationships with certain athletes in the past: He owns it. He wears it, just as he wears that "Philadelphia" across his chest. And if there's one thing about Philly, it's...

Philadelphians love Philly. We love who we are and we don't apologize. We love our sports franchises because they represent us. Anyone who wears our city across their chest will be loved as well. We only ask that athletes take as much pride in being here as we do. They do that by working hard, owning their mistakes, and fighting for each other no matter what. 

So Turner got his ovation. Despite all the arguing on sports talk radio, where callers lamented participation trophies and Barbie movies and PC culture and... despite all that, the fans in attendance for the Phillies-Royals game last Friday, August 4, 2023, did something that defied all logic, all that is known about Philadelphians: when Trea Turner came to the plate with 1 out in the bottom of the 2nd inning, the fans stood and applauded. They told him "You're our guy. You're one of us. We got your back." 

Turner lined out. Each time he stepped to the plate, Phillies fans cheered. In the bottom of the 6th, Turner singled to drive in Bryson Stott. Phillies fans cheered. The Phils ultimately lost the game to a terrible Royals team, but the fans won by doing the exact opposite of what everyone outside Philly, and many of those within, expected. Expects. From Philly fans.

"That was pretty fucking cool." Trea's reaction sums up how the standing ovation felt. After the game, Turner said the fans "have my back... wish we could have come out with a win." Turner's mother, who was in attendance, said she was so touched by the gesture, she cried. She also admitted to booing her son earlier in the season. 

Turner's double play partner, Bryson Stott loved the fan ovation too. "This is Philadelphia. This is why we love playing here."

Bryce Harper took it even further. During a postgame interview following Sunday's 8-4 win over KC, Harper went on for more than a minute about what playing in Philadelphia means to him: 

"I wish I started my career here."

Bryce gets it. The young Stott gets it. And now, Trea Turner gets it: just how special it is to be a professional athlete in the City of Philadelphia. Make us proud, Trea. Do your job, we'll do ours, and we'll walk together forever. Just ask Nick Foles. 

Ain't nothin' soft about that!

Honoring Connie Mack's Grave

   

     Baseball is a huge part of my life. Being a Phillies fan means that a lot of my life has been a disappointment in terms of rooting for a successful team. The Philadelphia Athletics have been gone from our city for almost 70 years, yet they may still be the more successful franchise overall. I consider myself a student of the game and particularly love pre-war era baseball. Philadelphia has a rich history in terms of the advent of modern baseball, with Cornelius McGillicuddy being at the forefront of Philadelphia baseball.

    Connie Mack played 11 seasons in the majors. He was a catcher who was known as a smart player who did not do anything particularly well as a player. Mack then managed the minor league Milwaukee Brewers from 1897-1900. It was in 1901 when Connie became manager, treasurer, and part-owner of the Philadelphia Athletics. He managed there through the 1950 season and compiled a 3,582–3,814 (.484) record when he retired at 87. Mack won nine pennants and appeared in eight World Series, winning five.

    

    Mack's legacy as part of Philadelphia lore is untouchable. He was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1937. Shibe Park was renamed to Connie Mack Stadium in 1953. It was the Phillies' home ballpark from 1938 through the 1970 season. 

    This brings us to why and how we came across Connie Mack's grave and decided to bring it back to beauty. David and his Dad have family buried in Holy Sepulchre Cemetery in Cheltenham, PA. David reached out to his friend Chris H. about the state of the grave and wondered what could be done about it.

Chris H. contacted me and I posted information about our intentions on our social media pages. Ed was the first to reach back out. Ed has experience in cleaning military graves and would make sure we are doing the right things to preserve the stone. Brian also reached out and offered some non-toxic chemicals from the company he works for that are made specifically for Mold, Mildew, and Stone/Granite. I also asked Chris D. fellow DPF admin if he was available and interested to help. I am also Chris, Chris N, so there were a lot of Chris/s helping!

    Ed went out earlier in the month to do a test spot and it came out great. Ed then ordered all the products that we would need to do the cleaning. David tried to contact the Phillies, Athletics and any surviving members of the Mack family. He heard nothing back, so we took it into our own hands and decided to get together at 11am on June 11th to clean the stone ourselves. David did receive permission from the cemetery for us to clean the stone. 

    The major issue was we had NO access to running water. This was a hurdle we overcame by each guy pitching in and bringing around 60 gallons of water. We wet down the stone and started to scrape the stone to free up the moss that had accumulated. We then sprayed down the stone and using nylon brushes on our cordless drills went to work getting the grime off. The total time the 6 of us spent was around 2 hours give or take.

    I am really proud of the work all of us did. It was an honor to give our respects to Mr. Mack and bring his gravestone back to the splendor it deserves. In some small way, I think each of us 6 guys felt like we had a hand in keeping Philadelphia baseball tradition alive and well. We even talked about continuing this cleaning effort for other gravestones in the area that deserve our attention. It was a truly humbling experience that I am proud to have been a part of. 

 

Memorable Moments of the 2022 Season

    

 

    It has been over a month, 38 days since the Phillies 2022 season ended. It took me some time to process and be able to put into words what this season meant to me. I refuse to let the defeat destroy my memories of this glorious season. As I was thinking about the season as a whole, I thought about what my low point was at first. That one was pretty easy for me. I was at the Phils versus Mets game in enemy territory on May 28th. The Phils were 21-26 at the time and were about to get swept in the 3-game series. The team looked listless, rudderless, and I could not see any moxie in the team whatsoever.

    Now that we got that ugly time in the 2022 season out of the way, I want to talk about a single point in the season when I thought maybe they had a phighting chance to make some noise. The date was June 15th and the Phils were playing the lowly Marlins. Well, lowly to most other teams, except the Phillies inexplicably had trouble beating Miami for what seemed like a decade. Kyle Gibson pitched maybe his best game of the year, with 8 innings of 1 run ball. However, the Phils had not scored any runs through those same 8 innings. Until the 9th, when backup catcher Stubbs launched a 3-run bomb into the rightfield stands to win the game for the Phils 3-0 in walk-off fashion. If you loved Rhys' bat slam, go take a look at what Garrett did as he was running down to first. An absolutely electric and epic celebration ensued. 

    Game 1 of the Wild Card series 9th inning doesn't normally happen FOR the Phillies, it happens TO the Phillies. That specific game and the 6 runs that the Phils scored in the 9th, on the road, against an incredible (but clearly hurt closer) made me think "this may be OUR year". Then in Game 2, the Phils behind Nola shut out the Cards to take the series and move onto the NLDS. More magic awaited.

    I was lucky enough to be at Game 5 of the NLCS  The Bryce HR to give the Phils the lead and send them to the World Series was the most important Phillies moment I have seen live. I was telling my friends that they either walk Bryce or bring in the lefty. The Padres manager did neither and I was dumb-founded. I was not 100% sure off the bat that the ball would leave the yard from where I was standing. There was that one moment when time stood still. Not believing something so amazing could happen to the Phils. I felt young again, jumping around and running back and forth yelling at the back of my section! What I remember most from that time is that I hugged every person in my section. Or they hugged me, I don't really recall. It was all a beautiful blur that I will remember, treasure, and chase to feel again.

    The hugging and high-fives didn't stop there. Me and my crew headed over to Xfinity to extend the celebration. It was a complete lovefest. We stayed so long because none of us wanted to leave for fear of losing that feeling, that our car was "locked" in the K Lot. We had to shimmy ourselves under the gate so that we could get the car and hoping that some gate was open or someone would let us out. To be honest, I was fine if I was stuck there all night.

    A team that spent one day in 1st place, was shutout 14 times, no-hit twice, changed managers mid-season, lost their best player for weeks, and by all metrics limped into the playoffs...gave us all a thrill. I think it was the unexpected nature of the run after such a poor start that made it even more memorable. 2023 will have high-er hopes for sure and I cannot wait for the ride. Maybe next year is 2023 folks!

    

Thanks, Coach!

         

    In baseball, you can be defined as a traditionalist, a progressive, or maybe somewhere in between. I enjoy the stats and numbers that baseball is defined by, however, the complete shift to analytics is something that has gone too far for me. There are no bunts, steals, hit and runs, contact, moving the runners along in baseball much anymore. I miss that aspect of the game and wonder if the baseball brand I played is now a relic. I want to tell that story and focus on a particular team and coach from my young playing career.

    My young life was very weird. I lived in Oxford Circle, went to grade school in Port Richmond and played sports in Bridesburg. This meant I had friends at a young age in many parts of the city. It also meant that the school friends weren't the neighborhood or sports friends. I didn't have that consistent connection to my neighborhood that most of my local friends had. I was somewhat of an outsider at first in school and sports because every other person lived in that community.

    I played for Bridesburg because that is where my Dad grew up and my grandmother still lived there. Bridesburg was a good connection and experience for me overall. People knew my Dad, we have a Polish last name and that made things a bit easier for me there. My first coach in travel baseball was Frank Swanson. Frank headed up the rec center there and also was a connection to allow me to get my first job at Gold Medal Sporting Goods when I was 15. 

    We had a decent team at Bridesburg and Frank was a good coach. I was just much more serious about baseball than most of my teammates. Practices were unregimented. The other kids on the team did not seem to care much if we won or lost. This frustrated me and allowed me to feel further different and often "act out". I was giving 100% and tried to do everything I could to help the team win. We did win the NE Department of Rec Championships when I was 9 and 10, but I was unsatisfied.

    My Dad saw what went on at practices and games, heard my displeasure, but I would work hard outside of practices and we won so I stayed at Bridesburg another year. When I turned 11, I decided to move up with the 12-14 team and a different coach. This was not my worst experience in baseball, but it was really close. Again I found that the teammates didn't care as much as I did. Practices again were just nonsense. The kids on the team were more concerned with chasing girls, drinking, and anything but baseball. That was not me. I wanted to get better and I felt even at that young age that Bridesburg was not the place for me any longer.

    That winter I had talked to my Dad about switching teams/ I wanted to play for a winner and to maybe be closer to Oxford Circle. The previous season my Bridesburg team had played a very good team, Max Myers. They seemed to have their act together, made very few mental mistakes and had what seemed to me like 10 coaches. The odd part was that my Bridesburg team beat them in the championship in prior years when I was on the 10-12 team.

    I felt like somewhat of a free agent that winter and I knew I was not going back to Bridesburg. Would it be Max Myers? Fox Rok? Lawncrest? All had good teams, but I wanted to play for Max Myers. My Dad and I found out when signups were and decided it was a good decision. It was closer to my house, had a great team and I figured the 10 coaches likely ran a better team. 

    I can still remember walking into Spruance School where the signups were. I was cocky, but still nervous. Would I fit in? Would I play to my potential? Would anyone like me, because I was NOT someone who was kind or friendly to opposing teams or players ever. At the table was the head coach and a man who changed my perception of baseball. He knew me and when he saw me, I do not think he knew why I was there at first. I said I was done with Bridesburg and wanted to have a chance to play with his team at Max Myers. Years later the coach told me that he knew that a good team was going to be great and he felt like he hit the lottery. I am not 100% those were the exact words, but this is my story, so I hope you give me some leverage.

    The coach was Sid Burstein. He was strict, kind, knowledgable and welcoming. I knew things were different IMMEDIATELY. I was handed a 40-page Xerox copy of different situations and where each fielder was expected to be, who was the cut-off man was, and where the pitcher should be. It was a handbook of almost every situation that would arise in a game. This was EXACTLY what I craved and needed. Practices were regimented. We ran through all of these situations time and time again until we got it right. Batting practice wasn't just trying to hit bombs the whole time. Sid would call out hit and run and we were to target the right side of the infield as a right-hander. For someone who loved baseball, this was heaven. 

    The team took to me pretty quickly overall. Max Myers was close to my Oxford Circle home, but most of the team was Jewish and I was raised Catholic. I wasn't sure if this would be weird for them or me and it turned out it was not at all. I found the entire team to be welcoming to me and my parents. I became friends with my teammates outside of the field. Most of what we did outside of the field was baseball related. Batting cages, baseball in the schoolyard, and VERY often it was a group of us getting together for our own team-led practice. I really was in baseball heaven.

    Sid was patient with me and I fully realize then and now that I was not easy to deal with. Heat-of-the-moment frustrations with myself, the opposing team, umpires, my own teammates, and coaches often had to be de-escalated by Sid. I can say that after almost every game, I was taken aside and told that the way I behaved was not good for me, the team, or anybody. Over and over again. Here is an example: We were playing a good team with a very good left-handed batter up. A man was on 2nd and we were up by a single run. Time was called and Sid came out to tell me to walk the batter. It was the right move at the right time and I disagreed. My macho bravado wanted to get the guy out myself. I knew I could and hated the feeling to give someone a free base. The catcher stood up, had his closed fist towards the right-hand batter's box and I wound up and hit the batter. I should have been removed from the game right there. When I came in after the inning, I was rightfully berated for what I did. I was adamant that I did what the coach wanted in the way I wanted and saved myself 3 pitches. It was an asshole move that I am still embarrassed about today.

    Sid preached fundamentals and defense. We practiced each of those over and over to where it became second nature. His attention to me as a player and person is something I hold dear and appreciate to this day. His message of not showing as much emotion on the field also got through...eventually. I thought you needed to show outward "fire", but was shown and told that there are better ways of doing things. If the umpire didn't give you a call, he was more likely to give you the next one if you didn't show him up. If a teammate made an error, you don't berate him out loud, but maybe encourage him and "pick him up". That will make you a better teammate and increase the synergy of your team. Thank You for all those lessons, Sid. They served me well in HS, College, and in life in general.

    This brings me back to baseball today. Will the pendulum swing back to a more fundamental game where contact is appreciated more than a .215 hitter with 40 HRs, but 200 K's? Will trying to move a runner over from 1st with no outs be applauded over swinging for the fences? Will throwing strikes win out over throwing 100 pitches in 5 innings with 10 K's? Will the Max Myers and Sid Burstein philosophy of Fundamentals and Defense return to baseball? I sure hope so, because I miss those days.

    

Radio Ga Ga

                                                            

Freddie Mercury sang:

"I'd sit alone and watch your light

My only friend through teenage nights

And everything I had to know
I heard it on my radio"






There is something nostalgic and simple about listening to baseball on the radio. It hearkens back to a time in my life when things were easier. If I was not attending a game, I would prefer to listen to it on the radio, preferably on my front porch in the Summerdale area of Northeast Philly. I wasn't alone in doing this, as many of my neighbors were doing the same thing. I could walk around my entire block at night and not miss a play, because I knew Mrs. Narwich had the game on. So did Mr. Fox, who was about 10 houses down. The neighborhood was alive with the sounds of Harry and Whitey all summer.



My parents always joke with me saying they were the first 2 voices I heard, but Harry and Whitey were probably the next 2. I probably actually listened to Harry and Whitey more. I mean that figuratively and literally. What made the radio so cool to me then was more by necessity than by choice. When the Phillies went onto cable or pay TV, we simply did not have cable, so if I wanted to follow the game, radio was free and we had one of those!



I have recently shunned TV and almost exclusively listened to the Phils on the radio. I have cable and WiFi and 10 devices that I could watch it on. So the radio today is by choice. I like to use my imagination about where exactly the pitch went. I do not need that ridiculous strike box. I picture in my mind the pitcher looking in, taking the sign and throwing one low and away on an 0-2 count.



My wife recently bought me a vintage-style radio with a dial. No digital readouts or bass boost,BlueTooth nonsense. The radio plugs into the wall and I have to meticulously turn the dial to get just the right amount of clarity. I believe listening to a baseball game on the radio is best done outside the house. We have a stand-alone garage that I have recently rehabbed. Now don't get me wrong, it is not dry-walled with hardwood flooring and LED lights. It is basic, clean, and simple. Just like baseball on the radio is to me.



Part of the switch to radio is that I prefer the announcers. Franzke and LA are the best in the business. I do miss not hearing Kruk talk about food all game and generally making fun of himself. However, the other TV announcers are WAY TOO chatty and annoying overall. I also do believe that deep down TMac is a Mets fan, which is unforgivable. Now LA doesn't do many games anymore, but Franzke is more than enough to sure up the broadcast, even if it is Bourne or Stocker on with him. Murph did an exceptional job leading into the All-Star game and I hope he gets more opportunities. I liked his camaraderie with Scott and think he would be the perfect replacement for LA when he chooses to retire.



I was so wrapped up in 4K, surround sound video broadcasts of games that I generally did not listen to the games on the radio unless I was driving. I did not realize how much I loved the radio and missed it. I urge you to turn off the tube or tablet and take a single game in on the radio out under the sky, on your front steps, or in your garage. Preferably with a cold beverage of your choice in your hand.

DPF Fable: The Frog and the Scorpion

    

    Let me tell you a fable about the frog and the scorpion. See, the scorpion needs to cross a river but cannot swim. The scorpion sees a frog by the edge of the water and asks him if he can climb on his back and make his way across the river. The frog is hesitant because the scorpion is deadly and worries about his own safety. The scorpion assures the frog that he would not sting him, else they both would drown in the river. This makes logical sense to the frog, so he agrees and the scorpion climbs on his back and they venture into the water. When they are halfway across, the scorpion does in fact sting the frog. Before they plummet into the depths, the frog asks the scorpion' "Why did you sting me when you know we will both die?". The scorpion replies, "Because I am a scorpion and that is what scorpions do."

    You may be asking why I am writing about a fable on a baseball page. The reason is this: We, as Phillies fans, are the frog. The scorpion has taken many forms, however. The bullpen, the GM, the farm system, Slapnuts, Starting Pitching to name a few. The other side of the river is a World Series Championship. Each year we allow the Phillies to climb aboard and we often get stung, by Memorial Day, 4th of July, etc. The die-hard fans are the frog in this case. We know by experience exactly what the Phillies will likely do year after year. For half of my life, the Phillies have been a below .500 team. Yet each February I have visions and hopes of October.

    There is a different perspective to take on all of this as well. At least we are not Pirates or Orioles fans, because those teams stink. Thankfully, we are not Yankees or Mets fans, because they are generally deplorable humans. Every so often the gods of baseball shine down on us and kiss the frog, which has happened twice in my lifetime. Hope is a dangerous thing to have. It is also a crushing thing not to have. Even Orioles fans have hope. Their hope is that they do not lose 100 games, but it is still hope.

    The scorpion this year may even be different. It is the owners and players themselves that are on their way to sabotaging a possible proper season. There is still hope, but as each day goes by, there is less of it. Too often, the recent hope of Phillies teams has been to be over 500 or to make the playoffs. This is a loser mentality. There is no grey area. The Phillies are either crowned World Champs of Baseball or I am disappointed. That's not to say that the entire season would be a disappointment. I want to feel the way I did in 1980 and 2008. I want to avoid how I felt in 83, 93, 09. I really want to avoid how I felt all of the other years between 1975 and 2021.