Why Phillies fans loved Darren Daulton

On Monday the entire Philadelphia region joined hands to make a simple declaration: We loved Darren Daulton.

Sports is supposed to be the place we go to escape our troubles.

Monday morning we awoke to find out it’s not immune to life’s pain. We lost “Dutch.” That is how almost everyone around these parts referred to longtime Phillies AllStar catcher Darren Daulton.

It’s hard to get Philly sports fans to agree on anything.

Just tune in to the city’s sports talk radio stations for any amount of time if you want proof.

But not on Monday. That day the city came together – if only for a 24-hour hiatus between debates about how many wins the Eagles will compile this year – to honor a guy from Kansas who captured our hearts in red pinstripes.

Daulton transcended sports. Yes, he was an accomplished baseball player, the unquestioned leader of the 1993 Phillies, that grimy, dirty band of misfits who captivated us while playing – and partying – their way to the National League pennant and a dramatic berth in the World Series.

That’s one of the best things sports does – it unifies us, regardless of our background, or station in life.

On Monday the entire Philadelphia region joined hands to make a simple declaration: We loved Darren Daulton. Dutch passed away Sunday night after battling brain cancer for several years. He was just 55 years old. Past his prime as a ball player, but still very much in his prime as a person and just a decent guy.

Daulton beat nine surgeries on his gimpy knees. But he couldn’t win this fight against cancer.

Fans, friends and teammates showered Daulton with praise, remembering a player who seemed to define the word ‘leader’ more than perhaps any athlete who ever donned a uniform in Philly.

Former teammate and Phils’ pitcher Tommy Greene maybe said it best:

“He was a man’s man ... and a woman’s dream.”

Yes, Daulton had more than his share of female fans. He was that ruggedly handsome.

But guys were drawn to him as well.

A lot of pro athletes let it go to their head, “big-timing” fans along the way.

Not Daulton. He never met a person he didn’t like, or would not chat with, or sign an autograph for, or perhaps stop and pose for a picture.

Those ’93 Phillies were an outrageous bunch. Lenny Dykstra, John Kruk, Dave Hollins et al formed the crux of a section of the clubhouse that became known as “macho row.”

On Macho Row, Darren Daulton was the king. He rode herd on The Wild Bunch. Daulton knew when something had to be said, and when to be quiet. He was not opposed to getting in the face of a teammate who failed to live up to his code, giving everything you had every day you reported to work.

That’s one of the many reasons he connected with fans. Daulton was an accomplished baseball player. But it was the space between his ears – including the way he treated people, teammates and strangers alike – that made him a Hall of Famer in our book.

Daulton was the unquestioned leader of that band of misfits who captured our hearts, going from worst to first, capturing the National League Pennant and in the process dethroning the mighty Atlanta Braves.

Daulton was the face of that squad. Empowered by manager Jim Fregosi, he ruled herd over Macho Row, and also got the best out of pitchers like Mitch Williams and Curt Schilling.

We liked that team because they were so much like us. They played hard — on and off the field. In other words, they would have fit right in on your beer league softball team.

Yes, Daulton was a tough guy. Not because of a lot of talk. But because, despite gimpy knees that endured no less than nine surgeries, he never budged an inch in blocking the plate.

Daulton spent 15 seasons in the major leagues, 14 and a half of them with the Phillies. He finished his career with a World Series championship with the Florida Marlins, hitting .389 in the sevengame series against the Cleveland Indians.

But he will always be a Phillie.

Daulton never forgot Philly. He was one of us.

A little bit of us died along with him.

RIP, Dutch.