Bill Giles and the Phillies

There was a memorial service on October 18 in the Class of 1944 Chapel at the Episcopal Academy in celebration of the life of Bill Giles, a former owner of the Phillies, who died at 92. Nancy, his wife, died at the age of 88. She was one of the kindest and most gracious people that I have ever met.  He and Nancy sent their sons to EA. Their kids captured the essence of Bill in a wonderful way with their words. Getting at the heart of what made Bill tick were also Phillies Hall of Famer, Michael Schmidt, whose two children attended EA (I asked him one day what he loved about our school. He replied that from the time you enter EA’s campus everyone is treated the same. I am just a guy playing a sport.) and Jayson Stark, a sportswriter who was there as a longtime friend and admirer of Bill.  

Bill’s life was defined by what was noble and true about faith, friends, family, and baseball. He literally grew up with the game as his father, Warren Giles, was a Hall of Fame executive of Baseball and President of the National League.

At the core of Bill was also an amazing ability to gather people around him as a people magnet which is important to be as a leader. But his gift was that he treated everyone the same from players to those taking care of the fields and working in the Veterans Stadium cafeteria. His gift was making people comfortable from all works of life. He gave new meaning to the word approachable.

Mike Schmidt is considered the greatest third baseman of all time, spending his time in the majors with the Phillies. Mike talked about how Bill was just plain fun and brought an entertainment dimension to baseball. Mike’s point was that when you think about it an actual baseball game is about 17 minutes long with action. How do you keep people’s attention? How can we make this fun and entertaining? It sounded like the various stunts that we videoed for Haverford Day at EA. Jay Crawford would stir up the crowd of cheering by coming in as a biker on a motorcycle. I played Rocky running through the streets of South Philly and then up the museum steps filmed by a science teacher who died too young, Marc Mandeville.

Bill’s idea of bringing fun to the game is seen in recent years with the Phanatic (There is a documentary out now about Bill and the Phanatic), but the Phanatic is the last in the line of Bill’s creations to create joy for the fans.

Bill had the ball for the first pitch of the season dropped from a helicopter.

Then came Kite man who was scheduled to come down a 140 feet ramp from the 600 level in the outfield to give the ball to Mayor Rizzo to throw the first pitch on opening day. Kite man crashed in the stands but still managed to get the ball to Rizzo.

They tried Kite man the next year with people holding their breath, but it worked.

He had the Great Wallenda do a high wire act 600 feet above the field with a Phillies cap on.

During a losing streak in 1972, he had a Turn It Around Day where numbers were on backwards and the lineup was announced in reverse order.

But there was another side to Bill having his entire life in baseball. Sure, he made it fun and it was important to win, but Bill’s reverence for the game is found in the words of Bart Giamatti that were on the back of the service program that captures Bill’s heart and soul.

Giamatti was President of Yale where he had taught English Renaissance Literature, but his dream job was becoming the Commissioner of Major League Baseball which he did. He served for 5 months in that position and died of a heart attack, but he wrote the following statement that Bill could readily embrace about the game.

A Great and Glorious Game

It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops.

Baseball Writings of A. Bartlett Giamatti