A ‘perfect’ match: Roy Halladay & Philly
He was the perfect Phillie. “Perfect” being the applicable word. Yes, Roy Halladay treated Phillies fans to that rarest of baseball feats, the perfect game.
When he faced 27 batters and set down 27 Florida Marlins in order – no hits, no walks, no errors, not a single runner reaching base – on May 29, 2010, Halladay reached pitching perfection.
But the thing that made Halladay special was his ability to reach perfection off the field as well.
If you were going to create the “perfect” Phillie, you’d be hardpressed to do better than Roy Halladay.
The man we knew as “Doc” was killed this week when the plane he was piloting went down in the Gulf of Mexico off the coast of Tampa, Fla. He was just 40 years old.
Incredibly, Halladay only spent four seasons with the Phillies. He arrived in 2010 after 12 stellar seasons as the ace of the Toronto Blue Jays staff, and immediately formed a bond with Philadelphia.
Tossing a perfect game will do that for you.
For an encore, Halladay opened the National League Division Series by tossing a nohitter – only the second ever recorded in post-season play – against the Cincinnati Reds.
Halladay won the National League Cy Young Award that year after going 21-10 for the Phillies. It became a bookend for the one he won in 2003 when he went 22-7 for the Blue Jays.
He backed that up with another spectacular season in 2011.
But he could not will those Phillies teams to a repeat of their 2008 World Series championship. Or even to get back to the Fall Classic as they did in 2009. The 2010 Phils fell to the Giants in the NLCS.
That did not diminish Halladay’s appeal.
In part that is because of the way Halladay went about his business. No one worked harder. In Philly, with fans that can sniff out a phony from a Ryan Howard moon shot away, that matters.
Halladay did not always know success. Early in his career he was sent down to single-A ball by the Blue Jays. It was undoubtedly a humiliating experience.
Halladay didn’t sulk. He used it as a learning experience. He worked even harder on his game, in particular the mental aspect, something that plays a big role in baseball.
He returned to the Major Leagues as an imposing, dominant right-hander. But he never lost that new respect for the game.
He became renowned for his work ethic, one few other athletes could match. He brought that with him to Philadelphia. Stories soon started emanating out of Clearwater of the superstar who was first person on the field in the morning – after his grueling workout that left many other players in awe.
Philly, a blue collar town that wears its feelings on its sleeves, had their hero.
They loved the sneer Halladay routinely used after striking out a batter who then questioned the umpire’s call.
Some people in these parts call it “Atty-Tood.” Roy Halladay had plenty of it.
There was nothing cool or aloof about Halladay. He was in your face, with the work ethic and talent to back it up.
As menacing as he could be on the mound, a diabolical tactician who usually simply overpowered batters, Halladay had another side, the one he portrayed off the field.
This was not your pampered superstar. Halladay was gracious, courteous, and always outgoing.
In short, he knew how lucky he was, making millions playing a kid’s game. That part of his persona was always evident in his reactions with the media and the public. He was always available. He would always talk. He would never blow off a fan, especially kids.
Maybe that’s why one of the things he most looked forward to when his days in the game came to an end was coaching his sons’ youth teams.
He leaves them behind, along with his wife.
And a million broken hearts in Philly and elsewhere.
Roy Halladay is eligible for induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 2019.
He’s already a Hall of Famer with Philly fans.
RIP, Roy.