I want to tell you a story.

This isn’t going to be about me. It’s going to be about baseball. But indulge me for a few paragraphs so I can get to the crux of the matter.

On August 15, 1990, I was in a sleepy little German town called Bergheim. I was in the midst of an exchange program, and I was living with a German family. The older of two brothers was a student at Boston University, but was home for the summer. In his two years in America, he had become a baseball fan, specifically a Red Sox fan. As such, every night he would stay up into the wee hours, sitting on the couch in his parents living room watching a German sports highlights show, just to see the quick round up of scores, often without highlights, of MLB.

On that particular night, after yet another long night out at the local pub (Yes, the drinking age was 16 and us Americans were going to take advantage) I happened to walk into the house a little after 2 a.m. and there he was, in the living room watching the show.

I decided to join him for a minute and we were both surprised when they cut to live video of a baseball game – and it was a game between the Phillies and San Francisco Giants. There were two outs in the ninth inning. Terry Mulholland was pitching to Gary Carter. Carter hit a line drive to Charlie Hayes at third and the players started mobbing Mulholland. They then flashed the final line score and I saw no hits for the Giants and an error for the Phillies. So, I knew it wasn’t a perfect game, but I knew it was a no-hitter. It was the first Phillies no-hitter in my lifetime and first at Veterans Stadium. I explained to my German brother why that was such a big deal, and then went off to bed thinking how cool it was that I got to see that in Germany.


(Note: What a terrible call on that broadcast!)

On May 23rd, 1991, I was taking a final exam during my senior year at St. Joe’s Prep. Afterwards, I putzed around the school looking for past teachers to sign my yearbook, and possibly a few other classmates that I may have missed, and then finally left to take public transportation home. I got in the house and went to chill out in my bedroom. Graduation was a little over a week away, and there were some final plans needed to be made for senior week immediately thereafter, so I started calling a few friends. At one point, one of them asked, “Did you see the no-hitter?” I didn’t know what he was talking about and he proceeded to tell me Tommy Greene pitched a no-hitter for the Phillies in Montreal that afternoon. I had forgotten there was a midweek afternoon game, because they were a lot rarer at the time (except in Chicago). I was bummed that I had missed it.

On April 27th, 2003, my aunt and uncle were babysitting my three kids for me while I went and played Sunday softball. I got back to their house around 2:30PM and my uncle and Ant Jr., who was seven, were sitting too close to the TV, but watching the Phillies play the Giants. Amelia, who was three, and Andrew, who was two, were in the kitchen with my aunt eating lunch. My uncle mentioned that the only run scored so far was a Ricky Ledee homer in the first inning. I watched for an inning or two, then started gathering the kids’ things to head home when Ant Jr. pointed out that Kevin Millwood still hadn’t given up a hit. I said, “Fine, we’ll stay till he does.” He never did. It was a fun little family celebration in my aunt’s living room that Sunday.

On May 29th, 2010, I was in the United Center in Chicago for Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Final between the Flyers and the Blackhawks. The Flyers had taken the heart of the city by storm with their magical run to the Final, and I was there with my Delaware County Daily Times colleagues Rob Parent and Jack McCaffery anticipating what would be a great series between two championship-starved franchises. I had ESPN’s website pulled up on my computer though, and one point, I clicked on the Phillies game and saw that it was in the fourth inning and Roy Halladay had not allowed a baserunner in Florida against the Marlins. I decided to keep an eye on it. Once Halladay got through six innings, I pointed it out to Rob, who was (and still is) the sports editor. There was much deliberation. What would we do with the front and back page of the paper if the Flyers won Game 1 AND Halladay pitched a no-hitter? Finally, it was decided, we’d split the page in half and put both on the covers. The Flyers lost a wild game and Halladay one-upped the no-hitter concept by pitching a perfect game. We watched the last inning online from the press box. About a dozen writers ignoring the hockey game, huddled around my computer. Needless to say, Doc stood alone on the front and back pages of the paper the next day.

On October 6th, 2010, I was in a bar in Pittsburgh having dinner with an old college dormmate I had not seen in about 17 years. I was out there for a Flyers-Penguins game. Meanwhile, the Phillies were hosting the Cincinnati Reds in the Division Series. They had the game on at the bar, and I was keeping one eye on it throughout, because we were sitting in a booth off to the side. The ironic thing is this friend was from Dayton, Ohio originally, but she was not a big Reds fan. Still, as the game moved along and I realized the enormity of what was happening, I pointed out to her that we should go watch it at the actual bar on the bigger TV to see if her “hometown” team could stop themselves from becoming just the second team to ever be no-hit in a playoff game. Doc worked his magic, and finished the job, making it the first Phillies no-hitter at Citizens Bank Park. Of course, in Pittsburgh, nobody cared. But, I told myself as I went back to my hotel, “at least I got to see it.”

On July 25th, 2015, I was sitting at home, and had the Phillies on in the background. I wasn’t really paying attention. Andrew had just walked in from hanging out with some friends and asked how the Phillies were doing. I told them I thought they were winning, but I wasn’t really paying attention. He stood there for a few minutes watching, when suddenly he said, “Dad, you might want to come see this.” I said, “What?” He said, “Just come here.” He’s one of those who firmly believes in not saying “no-hitter” out of fear of jinxing it. I walked into the other room. It was the sixth inning. And Cole Hamels was pitching. It wasn’t until the inning ended that they flashed the line score and Andrew said, “See?” I knew then what was going on. We watched together the rest of the way. I thought Andrew was going to flip out if Odubel Herrera dropped that fly ball to end the game. But he didn’t, and we had a fun father/son moment.

Why did I tell you all of this?

Because I could.

See, that’s what makes no-hitters and perfect games in baseball so special. We always remember where we were and all the intimate details of what was going on. There’ve been many other great sporting events, and in some instances, I might remember where I was and what I was doing. But, in others, I couldn’t tell you at all.

But a no-hitter? A perfect game? It’s like I can take you minute-by-minute.

And I’m sure you can, too. And you. And you. And you.

That’s why we romanticize baseball perhaps more than any other sport. It has that effect on people. It’s a sport about family. It’s a sport about vibes and it’s a sport that really is designed to make you run the gamut of emotions. And it’s a sport played practically every day, which makes it all the more present in your life when you are a fan of the game. Everybody who follows the Phillies will remember where they were Wednesday, who they were with, what they were doing, and have stories to tell for decades.

Michael Lorenzen’s no-hitter was the first Phillies no-hitter I’ve ever seen live. Yeah, I was at the Astros combined no-no in the World Series (let’s not talk about that), but even though that one was historic, as only the third postseason no-hitter ever, there’s just something that doesn’t feel right when multiple pitchers combine for one.

In fact, you’ll notice in my walk down memory lane above, I didn’t mention September 1st, 2014 when Hamels, Jake Diekman, Ken Giles, and Jonathan Papelbon pitched the only combined no-hitter in Phillies history in Atlanta. You know why I didn’t include it? Because I don’t remember it. Combined no-hitters are just, meh.

But when one guy does it, and grinds it out – like Lorenzen did Wednesday, that’s what makes it special and everything about it unforgettable.

So, here’s what I’ll remember forever about August, 9th, 2023:

  • I was there. I can finally say that.
  • Tim Kelly, from Phillies Nation leaning over to me in the press box in the fifth inning asking if I was aware the Nationals had not registered a hit yet. Oh, Tim…
  • Texting my dad and sons throughout the game to make sure they were watching. Dad was. Ant. Jr. was, ironically, in D.C. for work, but was able to catch the final two innings in a restaurant. “I was cheering so loud when it happened that I had to apologize to the people sitting there still eating dinner,” he said. Andrew was sleeping. Too many late nights and early mornings catching up to you, son.
  • Spending the better part of two innings monitoring Yunior Marte in the bullpen to see exactly how hard he was warming up and trying to determine if manager Rob Thomson would let Lorenzen try and accomplish the no-no on his own, or if we were in for a less-interesting, combined no-no.
  • The fact that Lorenzen’s mom Cheryl was in town to help her son and his young family move into their temporary home and that she was scheduled to fly back out to California before Wednesday’s game but decided last minute to stick around and watch her son pitch.
  • That it was Weston Wilson’s major league debut, something the 28-year-old had waited seven long years for, and that he hit became the first Phillies player in 25 years to hit a home run in his first MLB plate appearance (Marlon Anderson was the last).
  • That Nick Castellanos hit two home runs, the second being the 200th of his career.
  • Speaking of Castellanos, that his son Liam is awesome. Not only was he fired up for each of his dad’s home runs but the way he sought out Lorenzen’s mom in the stands and hugged her after the final out of the no-hitter, was amazing. He also did the same with Wilson’s wife after Wes’ home run. Baseball has a lot of romantic father/son stories, but I’m not sure any of us were prepared for this one to become such a part of the fabric of this Phillies team and season.
  • Wilson’s dad crying in the stands. Wilson, fighting back tears himself in the post-game interviews.
  • The youthful exuberance of Johan Rojas, who made nine of the 27 outs in the game, showing his infectious emotion after making the final out.
  • The reaction of the Phillies players when Dave Dombrowski walked into the clubhouse after the game (I forgot to mention Rhys Hoskins as part of that crew).
  • The vibe in the clubhouse after the game that was very reminiscent of what it was like every time you walked in there last October.
  • Lorenzen saying the following:

  • Kelly getting ahead of the fact that Lorenzen was wearing white vans and single-handedly determining what, from this game, would end up in the Baseball Hall of Fame.
  • And as I sat there at the end of the night, typing away, this dawned on me:

And we’ll remember every last one of them, and why they were in the lineup and playing the positions they were playing.

Because that’s why games like this mean a little bit more than any other.

For one night, there was no arguing with TwiXter trolls. There was no exasperation from fans using Lorenzen’s historic night as another opportunity to unnecessarily dump on Aaron Nola. There was no reason to focus on the constant fan angst over Thomson’s lineups or bullpen use or any of that stuff. For one night, baseball and Philadelphia were embracing again.

And yes, it’s better this way. Because that’s what makes the memories you’ll never forget.