Philadelphia Weekly

"The fans have been fucking great all year," Pat Burrell says, when he finally sits down to talk after either blowing off or ignoring several interview requests over the course of two weeks.

It's understandable that Burrell would blow off interviews, especially one for a story in a Philadelphia publication. What else can the angle possibly be but it? Talking to the press--any press--is no fun when things are going badly, which is an understatement of epic proportions when it comes to describing what Burrell has been going through this baseball season.

"Well shit, you can definitely hear it," he says when asked about the booing that came early in the season. "It's not like I'm standing up there and I can just block 'em out. Yeah, you hear it, but when you put on this uniform you have a responsibility to 25 guys, to the organization and to the city and fans. If they feel like I'm letting them down, well, that's motivation, that's not crawl in the hole and cry about it. You think, 'Maybe these motherfuckers are right. Maybe I have to step it up a bit.'"

Pat "the Bat" Burrell, the Phillies' 26-year-old left fielder, is four months deep into his personal hell of a baseball season, and somehow, someway, the city that booed such formidable and proven sluggers as Mike Schmidt and Del Ennis before him has yet to chew up and spit out this kid who's looked all summer like he'd be better suited playing wiffle ball in his backyard.

It's not just that the young, good-looking and extremely gifted native Californian who now lives in Center City and can be often spotted hanging out at places like the Irish Pub with a hottie by his side is in a slump. The man has lost his mojo. Not just misplaced it--lost it. All of it.

Worse, this was supposed to be the year--the season he would take the big leap from emerging star to superstar. Last year, with two seasons of big-league experience under his belt, the No. 1 draft pick from the University of Miami had what many consider a breakout season. He swatted 37 home runs and drove in 116 runs--seventh and third in the National League, respectively. The expectation was that those numbers would jump considerably this season.

Burrell was the future, and with a new stadium opening in 2004, the Phillies were ready to pay for it. The club signed him to a six-year $50 million contract extension in the off-season as part of a plan to restructure the team around its emerging young star.

High-priced acquisitions were made, millions doled out, all in an effort to win--and win now. And so far this season, despite Burrell's slump, the Phils have been doing just that a lot of the time. By the All-Star break in mid-July, the Phillies had knocked off an impressive 52 wins--the most by any Phils squad since 1993. The team began the second half of this season with a hold--however tenuous--on a playoff spot.

With winning, good vibes returned to the Vet. There was a no-hitter early, and a series of thrilling late-inning victories, and Phillies fans--cynics at heart from decades of losers and would-be contenders--slowly started to believe there could be a postseason.

Pat Burrell's season-long hitting funk has rendered him the worst hitter in the league. No other player with the minimum number of plate appearances required to qualify for the batting title has a lower average.

Hitting slumps are normal in baseball, especially among sluggers. But what separates Burrell's failings from other slumps--other than the shocking ineptness of his efforts--is both their longevity and the fact that they have no apparent explanation. He's not injured or inexperienced, and he doesn't seem emotionally troubled.

And still, there's a puzzling patience. Burrell may have heard his fair share of boos early this season, but the fans have switched tactics, greeting Burrell with ovations louder than those for any other player.

"They boo you when you're doing shitty," he says. "But you deserve it. They know what I am capable of doing, so it's frustrating for them. I'll go through a stretch where I don't get any hits for a week. But as bad as I've been these people have been behind me. It has been almost shocking at times."

It could be that with the team winning, it's a nicety they can afford. The boos didn't help, so maybe we're all trying to cheer him out of his woes.

The fans are no dummies. They realize that playoff success hinges greatly on Burrell getting it going in the late season.

"If we weren't winning I'd probably be hanging from the Ben Franklin Bridge," Burrell says.

But more than that, despite the misery he totes to the plate, Philadelphians seem to instinctively like this blue-collar kid from tiny Boulder Creek, Calif.

But can even the fans at the Vet cheer loud enough to help Burrell get his groove back?