There will be a ceremony this morning in Philadelphia City Hall that is long overdue.
They will hold something of a pep rally pushing the effort to get Dick Allen into the Baseball Hall of Fame.
They won't get any argument from me.
I was only 9 years old in the summer of 1964, when a brash rookie put the Phillies on his back and carried them to the top of the National League standings.
Right up until the last two weeks of the year.
That is when it happened, one of the most epic collapses in sports history, and a memory that has hung around the neck of Philly sports fans for decades.
But not because of Allen.
He was magnificent, hitting .318 with 29 home runs and 91 RBI.
The massive, 40-ounce bat he used was fearsome, and those moonshots he blasted over the Ballantine scoreboard remain etched in my young mind.
Too bad he couldn't pitch. The Phils' staff ran out of steam and manager Gene Mauch's decision to bank on aces Jim Bunning and Chris Short proved disastrous.
It started with the Phils 6 and a half games up with 12 to play.
Then Chico Ruiz stole home - kicking off a collapse that stole the heart of the Phils and their fans.
It would end in heartbreak, a second-place finish, tied with the Reds. The St. Louis Cardinals won the National League.
I sat at the kitchen table and agonized over every pitch. I think I still have the scars.
Scars are something Dick Allen knows about, but not necessarily because of what he did on the field.
Allen had a complicated relationship with the team, the media, and the fans. Those scars were formed during a stint in the minor leagues that saw him dispatched to some of the most racially troubled areas of the country.
Allen famously used his cleats to salute Philly fans with the word that is their calling card. Etching out 'Boo' in the dirt around first base.
The last straw likely was a brawl with a very popular player, Frank Thomas.
Allen spent six seasons with the Phils before being dealt to the team that beat them out in that Summer of '64, the St. Louis Cardinals.
He would bounce around, finding stardom again in the AL with the Chicago White Sox, winning an American League MVP in 1972.
He even returned for a swansong with the Phils in 1975-76. He seemed different. The surliness so many saw in his early career was gone. He was likable, even a mentor.
Dick Allen has a .282 lifetime batting average. He hit 351 home runs and drove in 1,119 runs.
But none of that is why Allen holds a special place in my heart.
I have a personal connection to this baseball superstar.
Well, sort of.
The connection is the town where I grew up.
Oxford, Pa. Out in the far reaches of Chester County. How far out> Well, you can spit into Maryland from there.
The town also has a special connection to the Phillies and Dick Allen.
His name is John Ogden.
He was a Phillies scout and lived in Oxford. He has a connection to Delco as well. The Ogden family owned the farm that formed the name of that section of Upper Chichester Township.
It was Ogden who stopped in a town called Wampum, Pa., and discovered the kid then known as Richie Allen.
Oxford kids - me included - used to hang around John Ogden's house in the hopes he would come out and offer us Phillies tickets, which he often did.
But we were stunned one day to see Ogden sitting on his front porch, with the young superstar Allen by his side.
Allen was at odds with the team over his contract. He was seeking more money and was trying to hide out from the press.
You can't get much more hidden than Oxford back in the '60s.
It's a memory I will never forget. A major leaguer in Oxford. It ranks right up there with the time Mickey Mantle spent the night at the Oxford Hotel. It did not take long for word to get out. Most of the town seemed to be waiting when Mantle came out and headed for his car. Word was that he did not take kindly to the crowd gathered to meet him.
Dick Allen belongs in the Hall of Fame.
And we have a gentleman from Oxford, Pa., to thank for it.
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