When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time with my Aunt Agnes and Uncle Karl.  Because of my father's death when I was five years old, my extended family stepped in to help my Mom raise my two brothers and I.  My Uncle Karl immigrated to this country from Germany in 1939; he was intelligent, young and Jewish, I'm sure you can figure it out. 

 

He settled just south of Trenton, New Jersey and immediately found work as an electrician with a local hospital.  In an effort to assimilate into his new culture, he decided to learn the nuances of baseball.  He figured that the best way to do that would be to take in games at Shibe Park, home of the Philadelphia Phillies. 

 

Now in 1939, the Phillies were not the upper echelon team that they are now, in fact they were terrible.  From 1922 through 1939, they finished in 7^th or 8^th place 14 out of 17 seasons; this was not a good team.  But Uncle Karl was as much a fan of baseball as he was a fan of the Phillies so where they finished did not mean as much to him.  Being a part of his community was what was important.  I think it was just as important for him to see them lose as it was to see them win.

 

By the time I started to stay weekends with him and my Aunt Agnes, he had retired and was enjoying the good life in Sarasota, Florida.  Back in the 1970's the Phillies were a pretty good team so they were a staple on NBC's Saturday game of the week.  I remember watching at least four games over the summer of '76 with my Uncle out on the Lanai.  The image in my mind's eye is of him in a pair of slacks, a t-shirt, and this beat up Phillies cap that must have been 20 years old. 

 

During the course of a game, he would sit very stoically occasionally groaning out of disgust or nodding in approval.  Since this was 1976, he had been a fan of the Phillies for over 35 years and had become incredibly knowledgeable about the game.  He would point out little things that many fans miss.  I was being taught things about baseball that I would use later in life.  Hustle when you don't have to, teamwork and sportsmanship are important, and respect; always respect.

 

That season Philadelphia finished in first place but ultimately lost in the NLCS to the Big Red Machine known as the Cincinnati Reds.  I remember it though and I think that's what is important for me at least.  Being the positive role model in my life that he was, he must have cringed when I became a Chicago White Sox fan.  True to his form though he never once said anything negative about the Chi-Sox. I think he was just pleased to see his nephew take an interest in the game he had come to love.    

 

For my Uncle Karl, the Philadelphia Phillies and Major League Baseball was indeed, more than a game.  Baseball for him was a way to better understand his new home and his new friends.  He wanted to embrace the country that had given him shelter and he wanted to get to know the people.  Karl Flanter was a very reserved man who had gotten beat up early in life but did not let that destroy him.  He was also a very passionate man and ironically, in my opinion at least, that would be the best way to describe a Phillies fan.

---

Add this page to your favorite Social Bookmarking websites