Dutch, Vuk, Stoney and Bo made for some fun times around the Phillies clubhouse

By Tony Zonca — MikeDragoSports.com senior contributor

It was March 1995 and the Phillies were winding down spring training at their Clearwater, Fla., site.  Everybody was itching to head north.

Rookie reliever Ricky Bottalico was sure to be one of the players on the big league roster.

First he had to undergo a rite of baseball passage.  He was chosen that year to be the target for a rather primitive bit of hazing.  The exercise was labeled the “Fireman’s Carry.”  The unsuspecting rookie was made to lie on the clubhouse carpeted floor at Jack Russell Stadium.  A veteran would lie on either side and interlock their arms with him.  In a show of strength, Bottalico was challenged to escape.

Apparently he never noticed the makeshift tarp beneath him.

Meanwhile, another group of veterans had assembled in the player lounge and raided the refrigerator.  They would mix together whatever they could find — ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise. jams and jellies, raw eggs, pickle juice, salsa, sour cream and anything that smelled bad and oozed.

The timing had to be perfect.  As the rest of the team and uninformed media gathered, Bottalico began to struggle.  As if on cue, the veterans unlocked arms and rolled away from the rookie, while a couple of Mad Scientists rushed out lugging the gooey mess.

Suddenly Bottalico was covered from head to toe with the foul-smelling mixture.

Everybody got a kick out of it; Bottalico was a good sport.  He had become one of the guys.

This is where it really gets good.

Same time next season.  Bottalico was pestering the veterans to tag another rookie — I don’t remember who — for the hazing.  They finally relented, but they convinced him he would have to go through the physical part and show the targeted rookie how the exercise worked.

Bottalico agreed.  You guessed it; they got him again.  Unbelievable!  This time the room erupted in laughter.  

After 11 full years in the big leagues Bottalico retired in 2005 with the Milwaukee Brewers.  An All-Star closer in 1996, he spent six full seasons with the Phillies.

Today he works as an TV analyst for Phillies broadcasts.  He has had to deal with some inept studio hosts over the years, including the current one, the annoying Michael Barkann. 

Dutch Treat

It took awhile for Phillies’ Darren “Dutch” Daulton to establish himself as a team leader and one of the best receivers in the game.  He struggled to find his stroke for some time and was tortured by a series of knee surgeries during his 14-year big league career.

He broke through in 1990 and became a three-time All-Star.  He signed his first huge contract during spring training in 1991. 

The Phillies Jack Russell Stadium clubhouse sat down the right-field line.  On the fence just beyond the clubhouse was a large billboard that featured a scantily clad Hooters girl.  She just happened to be Lynne Daulton, Darren’s first of three wives.

While the presser was going on to announce the contract signing, somebody had sneaked out with a ladder and a Sharpie to write boldly over Lynne’s likeness: AND SHE WILL GET HALF.

Everybody got a kick out of it, including Dutch.

By 1993 he had supplanted himself as the team leader of those so-called gypsies, tramps and thieves of a ballclub.

He finished his career — he could no longer squat and catch — as an outfielder/first baseman and helped the Miami Marlins emerge as World Series champions.  He took his ring and his shattered knees to the sidelines.

One of the most admired and beloved Phillies of all time, he died in August 2017 as the result of a brain tumor.  He was 55.

The Mitch and Bo Show

Before most home games the Phillies pitchers would take early batting practice.  It was the starters vs. the relievers and some heavy-duty cash was at stake.

More often than not Phillies coach Larry Bowa, a Hall of Fame needler, would be the arbiter, deciding if a struck ball was an out or a “knock.”  Bowa would stand behind the batting cage and announce his decisions.

Mitch Williams really got fired up for these matchups. 

No matter where Mitch hit the ball, Bowa would calmly call it an out.  Mitch would go crazy.  Bowa never wavered, never responded to Mitch’s rants.  It was tragi-comical. 

As a sidebar to the story, one day Bowa made a call when one of the pitchers jacked one over the fence:  “That ball’s OUTTA here!”

Play-by-play guy Harry Kalas happened to be on the field that day, liked the sound of Bowa’s call and adopted it as his signature home run call over his storied career. 

Double Play

Former Phillies third baseman and coach John Vukovich was a baseball lifer who demanded the game be respected and played properly.

Too bad Vuk couldn’t hit the curveball.  But he could pick it with the best of them at the hot corner.  His claim to fame was the hot ground ball he fielded off the bat of Pete Rose to preserve Rick Wise’s no-hitter in 1971.

Nine years later players listened when Vuk spoke during that breakthrough championship season.

Fast forward a number of years.  That’s when somebody — It might have been Terry Mulholland — announced in the Jack Russell Stadium clubhouse that right-hander Curt Schilling had hit more doubles than Vuk’s 14 over his 10 MLB seasons.

Everybody laughed.  Sitting nearby in the coach’s locker room, Vuk stormed out, ripped into the players — Schilling insisted he had nothing to do with the prank — and in a profanity-laced tirade all but kicked the entire group out the door.

By then I knew Vuk a long time.  He caught my eye as he returned to his room and gave me a wink.  He had feigned outrage.  He knew the players needed such moments to relieve the pressure.  That was Vuk.

Like Darren Daulton he was gone way too soon.  He died in March 2007, also from brain cancer, the same disease that took Tue McGraw so soon.

Anybody who knew Vuk grew to admire and respect him.  We still miss him.

Stoney-isms

Jeff Stone, the lovable, gullible Phillies outfielder off a farm in the deep South, had become a modern-day Yogi Berra when it came to mouthing absurdities.

The Hall of Fame Yankees catcher once said about a popular restaurant, “Nobody goes there anymore; it’s too crowded.”  And, “If you come to a fork in the road, take it.’

Actually somebody penned an entire book of Yogi-isms.

Stoney had a few like that.  My favorite came at the end of winter ball in the Dominican Republic.  The players were cleaning out their lockers and leaving a tip for the clubhouse guys.

Stoney had decided to leave behind his expensive boom box as a tip.  A teammate told him a gratuity of that magnitude was excessive.

Stoney replied, “Ah, it doesn’t work right; all it gets are Spanish stations.”

Ba-da-bing!