Phils, Dodgers Ready to Party Like It's 1978

I was born in 1970, and growing up in suburban Philadelphia I was the perfect age to experience in all its glory the baseball renaissance that occurred in Philly in the late 70’s, one that ultimately resulted in the Fightins one and only World Series championship in 1980.

Two things came of my immersion in the Phils during that heyday of Schmidt, Carlton and Bowa. Two things that are personal and permanent and both of which bear on the situation currently at hand -- a lifelong loathing of the Dodgers, and a warm embrace of the Yankees as my American League team.

After losing three-zip to the Big Red Machine in the ’76 NLCS, the Phils played the Dodgers in both the ’77 and ’78 editions, which was enough for a young boy’s brain to make it seem like the Phils played the Dodgers every year in the NLCS.

And lost to them, I might add. It’s no mystery to me now that I have a firmer grasp on the Dodgers line-up of those two years than I do the Phils. Although I can recreate the Philly batting order in my mind for the most part, it’s a bit mixed up with the 1980 team of Rose and Trillo and Lonnie Smith. The mainstays were there -- Boone, Schmidt, Luzinksi, Maddox, and of course, Captain Fiery Phil, Larry Bowa.

The Dodgers’ line-up, however, is etched in my mind as only it could be in the mind of a man who harbored many a vivid nightmare about it when he was a boy. I can assure you that I consult no website when I recite L.A.’s standard batting order circa 1978:

Davey Lopes – 2B
Bill Russell – SS
Reggie Smith – RF
Steve Garvey – 1B
Ron Cey – 3B
Dusty Baker – LF
Rick Monday – CF
Steve Yeager – C

That, my friends, is one HELL of a starting eight, and I hated every one of them except for Ron Cey. Even to a seven-year-old waging the passionate baseball hatred of the enemy in his heart, there was something mysterious and alluring about The Penguin.

Such anguish did I experience when this NL West Murderers’ Row did in my Phils (oh Maddox’s 10th inning error in game four of the ’78 series, Garry, Garry, how could you? I still can’t forgive you ...) that in both 1977 and 1978, I rooted with great zeal for the Yankees in the World Series to obliterate the Dodgers, which began my lifelong flirtation with Bronx fandom that only has completely waned due to the excesses of the Giambi/A-Rod era. When the Phils finally escaped an NLCS tangle with the Dodgers five years later, I felt like they’d avenged us and the Yankees, a revenge made all the sweeter by the fact that me and Mama Large were in center-field of Veterans Stadium for the clincher. Afterwards we rushed down to the ticket office to stand in line for four hours to get World Series tickets for the ’83 I-95 Series, which, you may or may not recall, did not turn out so well for my team.

But I digress. Here it is, 2008, and both Philly and L.A. are emerging from a long baseball slumber to find themselves back in the NLCS again together for the first time in 25 years. There are some strange coincidences to be noted. Davey Lopes, that leadoff, base-stealing gnat of Dodgers’ yore, is now the Phils’ first-base coach, and by all accounts a very good one. And for myself, my hatred for the Dodgers is tempered somewhat this season by, ironically, my connection to the Yankees, and my abiding respect for Joe Torre. I lived in New York for the entire Torre era and always found him to be the height of class and savvy through many a near-impossible PR situation foisted upon him by Steinbrenner’s hubris. That Torre was treated so shabbily by the Yankee brass, left to dangle in the wind and ultimately let go despite 13 straight trips to the postseason, seemed to me in and of itself enough to guarantee a curse upon the new Stadium. The fact that in his absence the Yankees floundered while Joe is now leading his new team deep into October, well, the words “poetic justice” somehow just don’t do it justice.

But that’s as far as it goes for me, a tip of my cap to Torre and good riddance. Joe’s new team is the Dodgers and now they’re playing the Phils in the NLCS and so all bets are off. For me, it’s 1978 all over again -- in other words, the baseball equivalent of global thermonuclear war. With that, let me close with two final notes. Casey Blake, I watched Ron Cey, and even though he was a Dodger, I liked Ron Cey. Casey Blake, you are NO Ron Cey. And finally, Shane Victorino, for heaven’s sake, whatever you do, try not to lose any routine pop-ups in the lights.

This post originally appeared on the Sporting Blog. For more, see The Sporting Blog Archives.