While harking back to the great moments in sports is a great way to pass the time during this lull in action, I prefer to flash back to not-so-classic moments that are mostly forgotten for one reason or another.
In the second in our series on non-classic moments, here’s a recap of the night Chicago White Sox left fielder Tony Phillips punched a heckling Brewers fan on May 15, 1996, in Milwaukee.
First came the fog, a thick shroud that hovered over the field at County Stadium at the start of the White Sox-Brewers game, forcing a 1-hour, 50-minute delay in the first inning.
When the game resumed, the Sox put a pounding on Brewers pitching, knocking out 21 hits in a 20-8 win that included a home run and six RBIs from Frank Thomas. By the end of a long night, only about 250 fans remained from an announced crowd of 8,733.
The Sox beat writers filed down the ramps afterward toward the cramped visitors clubhouse and waited nearly a half-hour to be allowed inside. With deadlines approaching, we got a few quick quotes from Sox manager Terry Bevington, Thomas, Danny Tartabull and Dave Martinez before heading back to the press box to write our stories.
On the way up the ramp, we ran into Milwaukee Journal Sentinel reporter Tom Haudricourt, who matter-of-factly asked, “How about that Tony Phillips?”
“What? Tony Phillips?”
Haudricourt informed us that Phillips had knocked out a fan outside the left-field bleachers and was taken into custody by the police.
We made a beeline back to the Sox clubhouse, and Bevington stonewalled us, claiming he had no information and would not comment. A player confirmed the story off the record, and the Associated Press reported that Phillips was taken in for questioning by sheriff’s deputies. We had enough information to get a few paragraphs into our final print editions.
“Sox show they have punch,” the Tribune’s headline read.
Players punching fans are the kind of man-bites-dog stories that pique everyone’s interest, as evidenced eight years later by the “Malice in the Palace” incident in Auburn Hills, Mich., where Indiana Pacers players Ron Artest and Stephen Jackson went into the stands to fight Detroit Pistons fans after a drink was tossed at Artest during an NBA game.
But the Phillips incident was not caught on camera, and because it was well before the advent of social media and hot-take sports shows, it was more of a local oddity than a national story.
It turned out a fan heckled Phillips, allegedly making disparaging remarks about his mother. After listening to it for a few innings, Phillips took matters into his own hands and removed himself from the game after the top of the sixth inning to confront the fan.
Phillips told a couple of players about his plan as he left the dugout.
“He’s going past Bevington and says, ‘You need another left fielder,’ ” former Sox third baseman Robin Ventura recently recalled. “I followed him up to the clubhouse, and by the time I got up there, he had his clothes on and his leather jacket and was going out into the concourse. I was like, ‘What are you doing?’ “
Ventura didn’t want to go into the concourse while in uniform and asked strength coach Steve Odgers to follow Phillips and stop him from getting into trouble.
“By that time it was too late,” Ventura said. “He already took off.”
Phillips stood under the left-field stands and called out to the 23-year-old Wisconsin man, motioning for him to come down to talk. Surprisingly, the fan complied. After a brief discussion, the fan shoved Phillips and promptly was clocked twice.
When I later interviewed the fan — Chris Hovorka, of Racine, Wis. — and asked why he walked down to meet Phillips, who obviously was angry, he replied: “Well, I didn’t think he’d hit me. I thought he’d just yell at me. But he gets in my face and says, ‘You’re talking a lot for a fat white boy.’ I said, ‘You should be used to heckling.’ He clobbered me twice, I hit the ground and he left.”
Phillips was taken to an area police station on a misdemeanor battery charge and released. Sox beat writers met with Bevington in the dugout the following afternoon, and he continued to stonewall us about the incident. I facetiously asked Bevington if he was going to let us into the clubhouse after the game, as mandated by MLB rules.
“I’ll do what I want,” he barked. “Get this into your thick (bleeping) skull, Sullivan: I’m not the (bleeping) doorman.” That abruptly ended the press briefing.
After Bevington stormed off, shortstop Ozzie Guillen said: “You should’ve told him, ‘Well, Bev, you should be the doorman.’ “
When he finally spoke with the media, Phillips didn’t deny the story but said he was upset over criticism in the media for punching a fan he felt went over the line.
“How can someone who has never met me make a judgment on me without knowing what I’ve done the last 14 years?” Phillips asked.
Did Phillips expect the incident to stick with him the rest of his career?
“People are going to say what they want to say,” he replied. “They always do. Fans are going to say things. I opened myself up to that criticism, so I can accept it.”
The charges against Phillips were dropped, but the American League fined him $5,000 for the incident. On May 28, the day the fine was announced, Phillips nearly started another brawl after being plunked for the second time by Frank Viola in a Sox-Blue Jays game at new Comiskey Park.
“Phillips stalked toward the mound to confront the Jays lefty, not even bothering to change into his street clothes this time,” I wrote in the Tribune.
Fortunately for Phillips, plate umpire Tim Welke grabbed him before he got to Viola. Both dugouts emptied, but no fight ensued.
Phillips was unapologetic afterward.
“Trouble follows me around,” he said. “It seems that way this year. Been all right for 13 years, then I come over here and all hell breaks loose.”
Few athletes were as fun to interview as Phillips, who once took the tape recorder from my hand and just interviewed himself. I covered him for only one season on the South Side, but we kept in touch well after his 18-year career ended in 1999. He died of a heart attack at 56 in February 2016.
Rest assured, he broke the mold.
