Jim Fregosi Profile: Chewing the Fat

(Originally published in the March 1996 issue of Philadelphia magazine.)

Profile of Phillies manager Jim Fregosi

Illustration by Colin Johnson

The first game is still months away, and the chain-link fence that separates the Philadelphia Phillies’ spring home from the surrounding pawnshops and junkyards and trailer parks is in desperate need of repair. Though the team’s first annual January mini-camp doesn’t open for 24 hours, coaches and players park, brace against the brisk Florida chill, and straggle into the clubhouse. It’s been three months since they’ve seen each other, three months since anyone’s had a reason to set an alarm clock.

The coaches gather in a small, windowless locker room tucked under the rightfield stands of Clearwater’s Jack Russell Memorial Stadium. It has cinder-block walls, a drop ceiling, scant ventilation but just enough space for two rows of lockers and a boardroom-size folding table. As usual, manager Jim Fregosi sits at the head. The table is empty except for his elbows, his Kools and his lighter. Starting tomorrow, he will see what kind of shape his players are in and give them a chance to get to know each other (only ten remain from the team that played in the World Series two years ago). For now, someone throws a videotape into a VCR, and suddenly Fregosi comes face-to-face with the almost perfect season of 1993. On a Samsung TV bolted to a wall, he has a 3-0 lead in the ninth inning of Game Five against the Braves-but Mitch Williams is stretching in the bullpen.

“Is he done now?” Glenn Brummer, a minor-league coach, asks about the Wild Thing’s current career.

“He was done then,” says Fregosi.
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How to Brew Your Own Coffee with Nest Cafe

How to Brew Your Own Coffee with Philadelphia's Nest Cafe

Illustration by Melissa McFeeters

Fresh beans!

Most bags of beans feature their “roast date,” which is vital to your brew. “Under the two-week mark is the ‘Goldilocks zone,’” says Ultimo Coffee’s Aaron Ultimo. “After that, it starts to taste dirty and it starts to taste boring.” Never ask for your beans to be pre-ground unless “you plan on literally using all of that coffee within the same day or less,” says Lilly Vamberi of Federal Donuts.

Spend low on a brewer.

For home brewing, pros are fond of affordable pour-over tools, such as a Chemex, Bee House or Hario V60, that rely on gravity for quick brews; Bodhi Coffee’s Tom Henneman is fond of the classic French press. If you’re set on a dripper, One Shot’s Melissa Baruno suggests a Bonavita, which brews with multiple streams of water.

Spend high on a grinder.

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11 Ways to Improve Your Kid’s Public School

1. Fix something old.

Greenfield Elementary mom Christina Stasiuk led an effort to overhaul the outdated library that included parent-volunteer redecorating; a remodel with “reading circle” areas, a local sculptor’s artwork and a bank of computers; new books; and a “weeding out” of old ones, including some that hadn’t been checked out in 40 years.

2. Build something new.

There is no library at the Philadelphia Performing Arts Charter School, where Roxanne Patel Shepelavy’s daughters go. But right next door is the Fumo Family Branch of the Philly Free Library, so Shepelavy worked with its children’s librarian to organize a book club for se­cond- and third-graders, with meetings at the branch.

3. Be the teacher’s pet.

At Society Hill’s McCall Elementary and Middle School, Lauren Summers takes the role of class parent to new levels; she and another mom, who visits the classroom on a regular basis, take care of administrative tasks and home-classroom communiqués, so the teacher “can focus on the students.” Summers also puts together and emails a weekly newsletter with messages from the teacher and notes from the in-
classroom mom.
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Four Philadelphia Schools That Work

Ways Parents Can Fix Schools

Photo By Clint Blowers

Science Leadership Academy

A partnership between the school district and the Franklin Institute, Center City’s SLA is proof that a strong outside collaborator can help produce strong results. The diverse students (45 percent black, 34 percent white, seven percent Asian, seven percent Hispanic) have to apply to get in, and once there, they follow a college-prep curriculum focused heavily on science, technology, ­math and entrep­­ren­eur­sh­ip—­with a special emphasis on p­roject-based learning (plus some cool outside speakers, like Michael Dell). Eighty-eight percent go on to college, and SLA has been named an Apple Distinguished School from 2009 to 2013.
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Six Leaders Who Need to Step Up

6 city leaders Philadelphia schools

Darrell Clarke

The City Council prez talks frequently about how dire the current fiscal crisis is—even though he, more than any other city official, is in a position to help solve it. With the state legislature having rebuffed his cigarette-tax plan for raising more dough, he needs to look at other funding options—soda tax, real estate taxes, government cost savings—to help right the financial ship. Failure isn’t an option here, Mr. President.

Amy Gutmann

As the leader of the most important institution in the city, Penn’s president needs to get more involved in the conversation—and use the resources of her mighty university to help educate more kids. The highly successful Penn Alexander School is a model of a university-supported grade school, but it was launched under Gutmann’s predecessor, Judy Rodin. Where’s Gutmann’s PA?

Michael Nutter

After keeping his distance from the schools in his first five years in office, the Mayor has become more engaged, taking some politically tough stances to raise more revenue. But he could still do more to persuade a skeptical public that the dollars won’t be wasted, and to lead from behind in a statewide coalition of districts that have been shafted by state budget cuts.
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Buzz Bissinger Is Trying to Chill Out

Friday Night Lights Author Buzz Bissinger

Illustration by Andy Friedman

My name is … Buzz Bissinger. I was born Harry Gerard Bissinger III. “Buzz” was a nickname given to me at birth by my mother.

I grew up … in New York City, on the Upper West Side. It was great. The city was different, and my parents gave me the full run of it at the age of 11 or 12. It was incredibly stimulating.

I live … between my apartment in downtown Philadelphia and a home in Long Beach, Washington, which I bought in October. It’s basically where Lewis and Clark ended up, with the Pacific on one side and Willapa Bay on the other. I’m in Philadelphia a week a month, sometimes more. But I dress the way they do in Washington now. More Carhartt, less Gucci.

I am most proud of … canceling my Twitter account, despite 25,000 followers.

On Sunday mornings … I read the New York Times online. Then I lie in bed watching NFL football to see how my fantasy football team is doing.

My parents taught me … both the importance of culture and, much more, the importance of working and trying to succeed. Which is a double-edged sword, because there’s a limit to ambition, and when you’re always trying to reach the next level of success, you are never really satisfied.
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Recipes from the Pillsbury Bake-Off

Philadelphia’s School Crisis: A City On The Brink

Photography by Clint Blowers

Photograph by Clint Blowers

My family and I moved out of Philadelphia last year. We did so reluctantly, and with a crippling heaping of guilt.

It wasn’t the crime, or the taxes, or the grit. No, we left for the same reason that untold thousands have decamped for the suburbs before us: the crummy state of the city’s public schools, a chronic and seemingly immutable fact of life in Philadelphia.

The failings go way beyond the typical struggles of a big urban district. In December, the latest national assessment found that just 14 percent of Philadelphia fourth-graders were proficient or better at reading, compared to 26 percent in other big cities and 34 percent nationally. Of the 25 largest U.S. cities, Philadelphia ranks 22nd in college degree attainment. Graduates of the School District of Philadelphia are particularly bad off; only about 10 percent of district alums go on to get degrees.

Still, it wasn’t the statistics that drove us away. It was the deflating sense that there was no clear and affordable path for our two young kids to get the education they need—particularly our son, who has some special needs. Despite our love for the city, our belief that Philadelphia is genuinely on the rise, and endless conversations in which we tried to rationalize staying, my wife and I decided we had to leave. The day the moving van arrived, I didn’t feel angry so much as I felt ashamed. That embarrassment is, I think, not entirely uncommon. And it’s a sign that the failings of the city’s schools are damaging Philadelphia even more than in the past.

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Yo Broadway! It’s Rocky the Musical

Rocky The Musical On Broadway

Photograph by Steven Laxton

Andy Karl knows what you’re thinking. He had the same reservations before agreeing to play Rocky Balboa. How do you turn that film—“Yo Adrian!” and Art Museum steps and all—into a Broadway musical? Stick to the script. “He loses at the end, but his loss is his win,” says Karl, sipping water at a dim midtown Manhattan hotel bar. “He goes the distance; he’s found love. Love is a huge part of what musicals are about. When you think of it, Rocky is all about finding love, finding dignity.” The fights? Merely bookends of the show. But, he adds, “They’re spectacular.”
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Making Friends in the Suburbs

Book clubs and making friends in the suburbs

Photograph by Clint Blowers. Styling by Melanie Francis

A year or so after my husband and I moved from 13th and Pine to the quaint South Jersey hamlet where we planned to start a family, I realized that in order to be a happy and fulfilled suburban grown-up, I needed one thing I didn’t have: a book club.

It was odd to yearn for a book club. It was particularly odd since I had never in my life actually been in a book club, though I knew people who were who frequently made offhand remarks like “I went to happy hour with Shannon from book club,” or “When I had a baby, my book club brought dinners for a month!” or “If it weren’t for book club, I’d probably murder my husband in his sleep.” So it was most definitely a yearning, which I felt most intensely when my as-yet-unmurdered husband and I sat having dinner at P.J. Whelihan’s, as we often did, and saw groups of other couples our age laughing and buying rounds as we picked through our Loaded House Nachos, alone. Inevitably, on the car ride home I would announce, “I need a book club.”

“I know, Vicki,” Thad would reply, patting my thigh. “I know.”

What I was really saying, of course, was “I need friends.” But that phrase was just too pathetic to utter aloud, even to my husband, so I substituted “book club” as code. Like, “I get by with a little help from my ‘book club.’” Like, “All you have to do is call, and I’ll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah. You’ve got a ‘book club.’”
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