Phillies

The Definitive Phillies Man Crush Guide

By Kyle Scott

Published: Aug 10th, 2011 · 4:41 PM EDT

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Photo via Jacqueline Sarricchio

This probably isn’t a post I should write wearing nothing but a double-boxer sitch’ (I’m out of clean shorts) and t-shirt, but plow forward we shall.

Email:

Kyle, 

I need your help, you’re the man crush king.  I seriously have no idea what to do with myself.  This Phillies team is just LOADED with man crush material.  Should I focus all my attention on the original mainstay, Mr. Utley?  Do I let Doc Halladay be my huckleberry? What about Clifton Phifer Lee, the excellent steed? Should I love him? Should I shower Cole Hamels and his beautiful hair with my admiration?  

What do I do about Roy Oswalt and that wonderful grin of his?  There is no way I can forget about Chooch!  Chooch is too important to not care about! Everyone needs a Chooch, I NEED a Chooch! 

But I can’t stop myself from crushing on the most majestically awkward fellow I have ever laid eyes on, Hunter Pence.  He went to the plate WITH the doughnut!  How am I not supposed to love someone who is so geeked to be in Philadelphia?  

What about Madson and his fire he has been breathing this year?  Or the Vanimal, I mean his nickname is, the VANIMAL.  And then there is Stutes and his glorious locks of strikeout, Bastardo and the impossible to hit slider, Lidge and his mole, Howard, Rollins, Polanco, Ibanez, Valdez and his goofy blonde goatee.  I mean forget San Fran and that weirdo with the beard…we have the GOAT!

This is a serious problem Kyle, I’m suffering from man crush overload.  Help me….

Adam

 

I feel the best way – the only way – to address these questions is to go line-by-line. Give it a little hop for the response.

I need your help, you’re the man crush king.  

Why thank you. – grins sheepishly –

 

I seriously have no idea what to do with myself.  This Phillies team is just LOADED with man crush material.  Should I focus all my attention on the original mainstay, Mr. Utley?   

Absolutely not, and here’s why: You might be experiencing the best team this city has ever seen (that’s not an overstatement). You have to spread the glory.

Like most, I too crushed on Utley from the moment he jacked a grand slam in his first Major League game. His get dirty, I want to win style quickly caught on and was catapulted to another level with back-to-back October performances, which included World Fucking Champions and five (FIVE!) home runs in the 2009 World Series. Any man who, on a national stage, makes C.C. Sabathia his bitch is deserving of any and all unhealthy man love hurled his way.

In recent years, however, the hysteria surrounding Chase has died down a bit. He’s not nearly as personable as the likes of Hamels, Victorino, or even J-Roll™. He doesn’t do some of those cool, quirky things that the newer guys do. Add to that a couple of injuries, where he is just now getting back to the Chase we know and love, and, boom, you have a void in your heart… even if it’s just a small one.

 

Do I let Doc Halladay be my huckleberry? What about Clifton Phifer Lee, the excellent steed? Should I love him? 

I once said that even after throwing a perfect game and no-hitter, Halladay remains the guy you want to marry, while Cliff is the guy you want to date.

Think about it. You know what you’re going to get from Roy at all times- loving security. With his friendly smile, those big, safe hands, and his amazing work ethic, what’s not to love? At times, however, his tightly-wound demeanor and perceived lack of personality leaves you wanting just a bit more.

Enter Cliff Lee.

With Clifton, you’re never quite sure what you’re going to get. One day you might see utter mind-blowing baseball sex Cliff, and the next, mediocre, not tonight, honey Lee. It can be frustrating at times, but one thing is for sure: every once in a while and often in October, The Clifton is going to rock your world. He’s not just going to dominate on the mound, he’s also going to get a hit or two- perhaps a home run, swipe a bag, make a ninja-like play in the field, and probably chat it up about Bigfoot in the dugout. How could you possibly not be completely obsessed with that? He’s like that hopped up on Red Bull and vodkas conquest at the bar who keeps looking at you with those fuck-me eyes and ironic smile. You’re never quite sure if she’s being genuine or if she’ll return your phone calls – since she likes the chase more than the prize… and that’s OK by you. In fact, it makes her all the more desirable. That’s Cliff Lee in a nutshell: fuck-me eyes, ironic smile. Figuratively speaking, of course.

 

Should I shower Cole Hamels and his beautiful hair with my admiration? 

Don’t ever say that again. You’re a man, dammit.

 

What do I do about Roy Oswalt and that wonderful grin of his?   

Oh that coy little smile, it’s tough to compete with. The problem with Oswalt – in the man crush department – is that he’s not really one of us. There’s not a whole lot we can relate to and he’ll be gone in a few months or a year. It’s almost like wasted energy.

He’s loved now, but he got started on the wrong foot with his – real or imagined – hesitation to accept a trade. And whether we like it or not, his back injuries and eight-day absence earlier this year haven’t helped. He does have a nice smile, though.

 

There is no way I can forget about Chooch!  Chooch is too important to not care about! Everyone needs a Chooch, I NEED a Chooch! 

This isn’t a crush. It’s the equivalent of loving a puppy. Both guys and girls love Chooch equally. He’s smallish, hispanic (always helps), and dare I say cute. He has a propensity for hitting in the clutch (the SABR nerds cringe) and might be the only person on earth who has a bigger crush on the Aces than fans do. Loving him would just be wrong, even though, if at times, it may feel oh so right. He’s that girl in college who you spooned, but never even got side boob with. For fuck's sake, you just want to snuggle with him. Nothing more. 

But I can’t stop myself from crushing on the most majestically awkward fellow I have ever laid eyes on, Hunter Pence.  He went to the plate WITH the doughnut!  How am I not supposed to love someone who is so geeked to be in Philadelphia?   

Concur.

He is going to be the guy who seriously challenges Lee for your affection over the next few years. Ultimately, however, Lee is more talented and has a longer history with us. Pence has an oxen, but there’s a steep mountain ahead, and we all know how that usually turns out:

Yeah, not fun.

HP3 does have a few things going for him, however: He plays every day, is gangly (automatically doubles man crush ceiling), and has a Twitter account- which can be a good thing or a bad thing. If he continues with his snarky, genuine, and marketably self-aware Tweets, it will serve him well. If he goes the Mike Richards exclamation point route and starts to come across as sort of a petulant nerd on the Tweets… well, Lee’s title of Philly’s Ultimate Man Crush will go unchallenged!!!

Pence also may be living with the Lees, the effects of which are not known at this time.

 

What about Madson and his fire he has been breathing this year?  

You can’t crush on relievers. They’re like kickers.

 

Or the Vanimal, I mean his nick name is, the VANIMAL.

That’s precisely why you can’t crush on him. He’s too sweaty, anyway.

 

And then there is Stutes and his glorious locks of strikeout, Bastardo and the impossible to hit slider, Lidge and his mole… 

No- Stutes is for the girls, Bastardo looks like a centaur, and Lidge doesn’t have the mole anymore.

 

…Howard, Rollins, Polanco, Ibanez…  

Howard is a difficult choice. There’s an obvious race issue here… but there’s something to it. People genuinely root for (crush on?) those who look like them. It’s human nature. Howard (and J-Roll™) may dominate with the brothas in this town; however, it’s not really their style to “crush” on other men. I think sincere adoration would be a better way to describe that phenomenon.

Beyond the obvious and touchy issues, Howard is a polarizing figure – even though he shouldn’t be – and Rollins has never truly endeared himself to the “Philly fan.” For every one step forward, he usually takes two steps backward. Although, that sentiment is mostly undeserved.

 

Valdez and his goofy blonde goatee.  I mean forget San Fran and that weirdo with the beard…we have the GOAT! 

Just stop.