Player Profile: Mike Sweeney (It’s Sweeney Mania Up In Here!)

Mike Sweeney is the bee’s knees.

I really couldn’t start off a player profile on him without getting that out of my system first. That’s the tamest way to describe him. This guy… is a breath of fresh air that the Phillies desperately need right now. Remember back in 2008, when every member of the team looked happy to be there? That’s what we see in Mike Sweeney right now. Ever since the Phillies acquired him on August 5th to replace Ryan Howard at first base while Howard was on the 15-day disabled list, this guy has been all about helping the team advance.

“I’m not going to be Ryan Howard, but I’m going to give you my heart every single night.”

Sweeney said that after the first game he played with the Phillies. HOW CAN YOU NOT LIKE THIS GUY? We’ve dealt with Scott Rolen and Wes Helms, guys who didn’t want to be in Philadelphia and guys who may have contributed, but who didn’t play their hearts out like some other players. Sweeney is a class act. He wants to be here, he will do whatever he can to help the Phillies win, and he is just the sunshine of everyone’s life these days, it seems. The guy’s always smiling. He hit his first home run as a Phillie yesterday, and instead of slapping high-fives or bragging about it, he gave out hugs. I don’t know about you guys – well, if I follow you on Twitter, I do – but I was flipping my shit. This guy is the real deal. This guy is exactly what the Phillies need.

Numbers-wise, he is 10-for-42 so far in his time with the Phillies. He’s not a power-hitter, but you can bet that he will work his ass off to do something during an at-bat – wear out the pitcher, advance a runner, work out a walk, maybe even score a run. He doesn’t look lethargic standing in the batter’s box. Some people may say that emotions don’t play a part, but how could they not? When athletes are slumping, their attitudes change. It’s easy to see. Sweeney doesn’t have numbers like Howard or Utley, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that by talking to him. He’s excited about everything he does. He’s not a braggart. He just wants to do his best and help his team advance. By keeping the clubhouse positive and contributing in some way every single time he takes the field, there’s no doubt that he’s making a difference.

Oh, and by the way, during his post-game interview with Sarge yesterday, Sweeney said, “Every day I’m in that locker room… I look at my teammates’ eyes and I just want to fight with them. I never want to let those guys down.” If you don’t like this guy, you have no heart. End of story.

Mike Sweeney celebrates his first home run as a Phillie with Jayson Werth and Raul Ibanez (Photo credit: AP Photo/Denis Poroy)

And, Sweeney? If you just so happen to be reading this (a girl can hope!), two things: 1) Let’s get married, and 2) Remember how after your first game with the Phillies, you called Brad Lidge “Lidgey”? Yeah, I call him that all the time. So, you and I? We’re soul mates. You know, if you believe in that kind of thing.


Player Profile: Wilson Valdez (Or How I Broke Out of My Phillies-Induced Slump)

I was shocked when I checked back into the Chicks archives and realized that I last posted a Player Profile almost two months ago. Considering it’s suppose to be a weekly feature, I’d say I’ve slacked a bit. Continue reading

Player Profile: The Passion of the Shane?

My previous three player profiles basically wrote themselves. Something about Chase, Ryan and especially JWerth and that marvelous beard of his that just made words pour out like cheap beer from a McFadden’s tap on game day. But ever since I decided to write this week’s profile on Shane Victorino, I’ve been nursing a raging case of writer’s block. Continue reading

Player Profile: Ryan Howard

There’s about 125 million things I could say about Ryan Howard. And I’ve got at least until 2016 to try to say them all. But unless you’ve never read a sports page and your reckless Google search of keywords like “cocks” and “long balls” and “David Wright’s shirtless body”  in hopes of finding fresh, new Internet porn brought you to this site by accident, you already know all about the mega deal the Phillies first baseman signed last month that will keep him in red-and-white pinstripes well into this coming decade.

Make money money, make money money (Source:

Continue reading

Player Profile: Jayson Werth

In late February, a strange, powerful, all-encompassing presence suddenly emerged, stealing our hearts, dominating our intellects, sparking our imaginations beyond all previously tested limits. Was it the coming of the iPad? No, sorry—try again, Steve Jobs. Tiger Woods’ latest mistress? Please, who hasn’t gotten a text message that’s said that. Justin Bieber? Call us when you grow out of Pull-Ups, kid. No, of course I can only be referring to the pop-culture pandemic that instantaneously swept from Philadelphia to Fort Lauderdale, Hong Kong to Bejing, Milan to Minsk—Jayson Werth’s Beard. Continue reading

Player Profile: Chase Utley, A Love Story

Simply put, I adore Chase Utley. His name and number are on the back of my jersey. His walk-up song—Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir”—is my ringtone. Sometimes, I even catch myself playing that celeb-name mash-up game in my head: “Would we be known as Phase—or maybe Utgrrl?—in the Philly media?” (Don’t judge me. It’s a good way to take my mind off the guy smelling of piss and Mad Dog who just sat next to me on the Broad Street line.)

With all due respect to Mrs. Utley, her husband is the female Viagra that scientists have been wasting time trying to concoct in a lab. And his strange and wonderful powers are not limited to chicks. Chase has ignited more bromances in this city than Twitter has flash mobs. Come on ladies, you know that dreamy-eyed look that washes over your man when No. 26 comes up to bat.

Our second baseman reminds me of the quiet, unassuming guy in the corner of the bar who after a few drinks is suddenly on top of a table slurring out the chorus to “Sweet Caroline.” Or who, after humbly helping his team win a World Series, drops the “F” bomb on live TV (silly us, here we thought that incident at the ’08 All-Star Game was just a fluke). Or who steps up to the plate with that child-like smirk that seems to say, “I just farted in the dugout and blamed Dobbsy,” and murders the ball straight back to Ashburn Alley. Continue reading