Requiem for a Team: Philadelphia Phillies

Image credit: © Brett Davis-Imagn Images

Sometimes we use and interact with words and phrases whose meaning we don’t actually know. Olivia Dean’s song “Slowly” starts with the lyrics “Down in Margate, had a sip of you / and it went straight to my head / I could have opened up, cried, and almost been myself / but I took the piss instead.” 

If someone says they “took the piss,” odds are they don’t know that the phrase has a tangled history that dates back centuries to the wool trade in England, where London’s poorest were charged with collecting, carrying, and transporting urine to elsewhere in the country. (Bonus fun: This is also where the phrase “piss poor” originates.) But they definitely know that they took some sort of ribbing or goofing that came at their own expense and, brief as it may have been, that it took them down a peg. 

You might not know what “requiem” means or that the title of this series riffs on an intense book from the ‘70s that Darren Arenofsky made into a movie in the ‘90s. But if you read even one entry you understand that it’s a song for the departed. It’s a chance to play it straight in such a way that only comes when someone or something isn’t around anymore. It’s not that we’re taking potshots, although sometimes those are earned. It’s that we’re dropping all pretense. 

Locally and nationally, there is still a lot of pretense about the Philadelphia Phillies and what they should do next, or need to. It has been their privilege to endure some excruciating moments of defeat in the last four seasons. That’s supposed to mean something: a new direction with new players, a big coaching shake-up, some heads on a platter, something should be done. These moments are amplified because they’ve happened in and to a city renowned for its recalcitrance. Jayson Stark was maybe most explicit when writing about why something has to change: “That’s how Philadelphia works.” 

As a team, they had a top-10 offense. A good-not-great year from Bryce Harper wasn’t a dagger the way it can be for teams whose window of contention is closing. Neither was Alec Bohm reminding everyone that he is distinctly average or J.T. Realmuto’s production ebbing more than it flowed. Even Max Kepler being a bust for most of the season and Nick Castellanos going in the tank couldn’t hold them back. Kyle Schwarber was transcendent much of the year and Trea Turner was the change-of-pace star this team desperately needed after years of being all power and no finesse. Brandon Marsh was excellent after going 0-for-April and Bryson Stott made an adjustment at the plate that made him look like a real threat again. Despite a late arrival, Harrison Bader really was a gift. 

The story was the same but better on the pitching side, where they finished with the best DRA in the league. Aaron Nola was hurt more than he’s ever been and stunk out loud most of the time he was healthy. José Alvarado blew up his season with a PED suspension before going down again with a forearm strain. Jordan Romano looked the part of a modern day Eddie Harris from Major League, going full tilt and just not having the gas he used to. Tanner Banks made everyone go “Tanner Banks? Tanner Banks!” Orion Kerkering and Matt Strahm had stretches of ineffectiveness. Cristopher Sánchez made it clear that he’s an ace, giving the team at least one to start the 2026 season and maybe two more, depending on the health of Zack Wheeler after recovering from thoracic outlet syndrome and the continued development of Jesús Luzardo. Like Bader, Jhoan Duran was more than a spark for the bullpen; he was a lynchpin. He took the pressure off everyone. 

Some moves worked better than planned. Others didn’t. The team finished with 96 wins,  second-most in baseball. Maybe there are parallels in the distance with the 2007-12 team, and the ones from a couple years after, that waited too long to move on from its core. But not now. Big change feels unlikely. A team that achieves this level of success needs to hollow out and start to tilt before being changed, the way carpenter bees slowly work through a fence post. 

The closest they’ve gotten to that is Castellanos calling out Rob Thomson for communication amidst the worst season of his career, which is the first time any of his players have accused the manager of being less than fantastic. When asked about his future with the team at yesterday’s postmortem press conference, President of Baseball operations Dave Dombrowski gave his shortest response in his near-hour of speaking, dropping a “we’ll see what happens.” The rest of their veterans are still mostly productive, if not elite. Every statement any given player makes about the team as a whole is about how rock-solid their belief and love for each other is. 

Following player sentiment can be a fool’s errand and you don’t have to believe what they say. Even beyond it lay a limited amount of money to spend⁠⁠, though—maybe $20 million. The way the team and player have talked over the last calendar year, Schwarber coming back is just about a lock. Retaining Realmuto probably makes the most sense despite him entering the phase of his career where his production resembles a Harry Dean Stanton character, an uncommon stroke of power brushed over something mostly deficient. The reasons are bigger than pure on-field production, anyway. When Thomson spoke after Dombrowski yesterday he said he couldn’t put a number on what the catcher does to improve the team because he’s never had a catcher be so dedicated to gameplanning. Dombrowski also said that Alvarado is likely to return. Bohm makes sense to deal away and for another team in a different spot to acquire. Taijuan Walker could be moved but might be worth keeping given the likely loss of Ranger Suárez and stagnation of Andrew Painter. Pretty much anyone who’s written about the Phillies’ next act has drawn similar conclusions.

The real problem with this team isn’t commitment or will or preparation. It’s that you can’t look backward at what’s happened and not also look forward while seeing the possibility of it happening again. The call for change is an expression of disbelief. A team that’s grown this much⁠ isn’t good enough, even as it’s gone from free-swinging to calculated at the plate, from slapdash roles to clear cut purpose⁠? How terrifying. 

This group came out swinging in June of 2022. About a week ago, they woke up older, no closer to baseball heaven than they’ve ever been. They will spend the winter itching for the calendar to change to 2026, hoping it brings the right complementary players and degree of fortune that finally delivers them to something greater. Until then, they’ll take the piss. That’s how Philadelphia really works.