Phillies' big hitters wake up; Rays' hybernate

ON BASEBALL

Welcome to the party, Ryan Howard.

Still invited to the party, but yet to make an appearance: Carlos Pena and Evan Longoria. It's almost over, fellas, appetizers are long gone, last call for drinks, doors are closing.

And that, folks, is a big reason why this is where we sit:

Phillies 3, Rays 1.

The city of Philadelphia is ready to explode as its citizens — and outsiders with connections to the city, such as myself — sense the first major-sport championship in 25-plus years. If any city deserves a title, it's Philly (although, yes, Cleveland sports fans certainly have a case).

Not that this thing is over. Any knowledgeable Philadelphia fan would tell you this. They know the heartbreak that can occur in their city. There won't be any healthy rioting until the last out is in the books.

But unless two Rays bats wake up, it's only a matter of time.

Stat of the series: Pena and Longoria, two of Tampa Bay's most potent bats, are 0-for-29. That, in a word, is ghastly. With their No. 3 and 4 hitters somewhere in Panama, the Rays are lucky this thing isn't over yet. They're lucky those riots aren't occurring right now.

Meanwhile, Philly's big bat has finally come alive. Howard, who is fascinating because of how bad he can look one at-bat before smoking a long ball the next time up, has done a lot of the latter in Philly's two home wins. The regular-season home run champion hit his first round-tripper of the postseason in Game 3, and Sunday night he connected on a pair.

Howard's three-run shot, off a breaking ball — usually his weakness — and to the opposite field, was the Shot Heard Round Philly, extending the Phils' tenuous 2-1 advantage to 5-1. From there, the final innings were academic.

The Phillies hit another pair of long balls, including Howard's second. The Rays, meanwhile, continued to get nothing from the middle of their order and squandered quality scoring opportunities in the sixth and seventh innings.

By the eighth, you knew it was over. Trailing 6-2, there should have been a sliver of hope for the Rays. After all, Pena, Longoria and Carl Crawford — the "meat" of the order — were due up. But in this Fall Classic, the meat has been rawer than raw. And Pena and Longoria further proved this, meekly striking out before Crawford grounded to second.

For comparison's sake, Philadelphia's No. 3 hitter, Chase Utley, hit the key two-run homer in Philly's 3-2 Game 1 win and also homered in the most dramatic game of the Series, the Phillies' nutty 5-4 win Saturday night/Sunday morning.

Howard is a prime candidate to be named the MVP if the Phillies can close it out. Besides the three home runs and the five-RBI performance Sunday, he's hitting .353. His manager Charlie Manual wasn't kidding when he said that Howard, and his wide shoulders, could carry the team to a championship.

Of course, he's getting plenty of help. You know things aren't going the Rays' way when Joe Blanton — large, pudgy pitcher Joe Blanton! — hits a no-doubt shot over the left-field wall. It was the Game 4 starter's first career home run, and at the most opportune time.

But Blanton didn't need the run. Or Howard's five RBIs, for that matter. Just like Jamie Moyer a night earlier, Blanton was the better starting pitcher. Most pundits, including yours truly, thought the back of Tampa's starting rotation would be stronger than the Phillies'.

Shows what we know.

We also thought Pena and Longoria would continue to hit like they had all season and into the playoffs.

Um, wrong on that one too.

What has happened is this: Despite continuing to struggle mightily with runners in scoring position, the Phillies have scored enough runs for the commanding 3-1 series lead. Credit Utley, Howard and company — Blanton included — for stroking a few momentum-snagging long balls into the dark sky.

And the City of Brotherly Love is on the brink of a large, unabashed love fest.

Unless the Rays' big bats wake up.

ASAP.

Lidge the Phillies' comforting blanket

ON FOOTBALL

If Phillies fans are still extremely nervous about their team's fortunes in this World Series — even after a solid Game 1 win, 3-2, in St. Petersburg, among the cowbells, Wednesday night — I completely understand.

After all, in the franchise's dismal 125-year history, it's won a single championship in 1980. (Yep, that's right: Even the lowly Cubs, with their back-to-back titles in 1907 and '08, have twice as many.)

So "optimism" is not a word thrown out in the streets of Philly, especially when not a single of the city's four major-sports teams has won a championship since the 76ers in 1983. There will be no celebrating, no champaign toasts, no burning of couches/cars/cheese steaks until the last out is recorded, until the Phillies have won four games against the Rays.

That's just knowing your team.

But if there is a comfort blanket on this Philadelphia team, someone whom Philly fans can place at least a tad of trust in, it's Brad Lidge.

Forget Mariano Rivera (and his Hall-of-Fame career and dominance in the playoffs). Forget Francisco Rodriguez (and his single-season saves record). At this moment in time, Lidge is the best closer in baseball.

What makes a closer good — besides, of course, not blowing a save all season? When you're watching a dominant ninth-inning pitcher, you just know that he will get the job done. Your heart might tell you there's a chance he will slip, he will lose the slim one-run lead thanks to one bad pitch, but your mind — your most trusted source of smarts — tells you there's no chance. It's over.

That's what I think when Lidge takes the mound.

So when the Rays brought up the middle of their lineup — Carlos Pena, Evan Longoria and Carl Crawford — to face Lidge in the bottom of the ninth, I was positive he would finish the job. I didn't necessarily think he'd be as dominant as he was, striking out Pena and Longoria on nasty sliders before getting a foul popout to close it, but I knew he'd finish the Phillies' victory.

Only the best closers give me that feeling. This season, anyway, Lidge is one of those guys.

He has all the key ingredients of a top-notch closer:

1. He gets ahead in counts and has a good fastball that he's not afraid to throw down Main Street for that first strike.

2. He has the nasty "out pitch," his slider, which fools hitters even when they're expecting it.

3. He has a great presence on the mound, never getting flustered when a baserunner or two may reach.

4. Finally, he has proved over the past couple weeks that he's just as good in October as he is during the regular season. All closers must prove this before they can gain elite status.

Lidge's steadiness has to be especially cathartic for Phillies fans who witnessed the Mitch Williams Debacle in the 1993 Fall Classic. That memorable series was capped off with Williams giving up a ninth-inning, three-run homer to Toronto's Joe Carter, which won the Blue Jays a second consecutive championship in six games.

It was Williams' second blown save of the series. In an incredible Game 4, Toronto came back from a 14-9 deficit with six runs in the eighth inning, three off Williams, to win 15-14. Williams got the loss and death threats from angry fans.

The 1993 experience had to have scarred many Philly fans for life, and there may be some who will never trust another Phillies closer. But Lidge is one man who can be trusted, if "trust" is indeed still a word in the City of Brotherly Love.

Unlike the long-haired, often erratic Williams, Lidge is calm, cool and collected when on the mound. Sure, he shows emotion after a big strikout or a critical double play, but that's natural and it doesn't affect his approach toward the next hitter.

Now, I have to stand by my predicition that Tampa Bay will win the Series in six games, but let me add this: If the Rays want to win their first World Series, they better figure out a way to get leads before the eight inning. Yep, even before Lidge takes the stroll in from the bullpen, because he's got a nasty setup man in Ryan Madson, who set down three consecutive Rays Wednesday.

Madson and Lidge give Philly a nasty eight-nine punch at the end of games. A comforting combo, if you will, for those never-been-kissed Phillies followers.

This Fall Classic could be dramatic, could be heart-throbbing. But this much I'm convinced of, Philadelphia:

There will be no repeat of the end of the '93 Series. Your closer won't be on the mound, watching as an opposing hitter rounds the bases celebrating a walkoff dinger.