Jamie Moyer feeling like a kid in Philly

SEATTLE -- A steaming cup of Starbucks in one hand and the steering wheel in the other, Jamie Moyer eases his SUV to the side of the road and becomes a tour guide.

The afternoon is cold and clear, the sun reflecting off Puget Sound. Moyer points to his right at the snow-capped Olympic Mountains, then nods to his left, where Mount Rainier rises spectacularly above the city skyline.

This is the perfect backdrop for a story about Moyer's career and all the good works that have come from it. This is the place where it all came together for him, where he finally became the pitcher he always knew he could be, where he was a mainstay in the Seattle Mariners' rotation for 10 years, loving every minute of it.

And, yet, as the caffeine kicks in, all Moyer talks about is the six weeks he spent with the Phillies last season and how they made him feel, well, like a kid again.

The 44-year-old lefthander tells a story about a meeting the players had with 21/2 weeks remaining in the season and a playoff berth hanging in the balance. Players spoke about keeping sight of their goal and doing the little things needed to win. Standard stuff.

Someone asked if anyone had anything to add. Moyer, who had been with the club less than a month, stood and recalled an indelible moment from his youth -- the Phillies' 1980 World Series victory parade. Jim and Joan Moyer had given their baseball-loving son, then a senior at Souderton High in Montgomery County, permission to skip school and be part of the celebration, and 26 years later he felt compelled to tell his new teammates about it.

Moyer told them about what a happy and exciting day that was, about how the whole city rejoiced over its Phillies, and about how they had the opportunity to make it happen again if they supported each other and did their jobs well. He spoke of how much he would love to ride in a championship parade in Philadelphia, like his idols had a generation earlier.

"The funny thing is, I hadn't thought about that parade until that meeting," Moyer said between sips of coffee. "It just kind of hit me, how special it would be to win in Philadelphia."

Of course, there was no championship parade last year, not that Moyer didn't do his job. He made eight starts down the stretch and the Phillies won six of them. So valuable was Moyer's contribution that the Phillies gave him a two-year, $10.5 million contract extension in October. He'll be 45 when the deal expires and there's a good chance he'll finish his long and distinguished career with the team he followed as a youngster.

And wouldn't it be something if he did it with a World Series ring on his finger?

"That's why I play," Moyer said. "I don't have a ring and there's an opportunity to get one in Philadelphia. "I really believe this team is on the brink."

Moyer has 216 wins, seventh among active major-leaguers. He's earned them with heart and pitching savvy, a dedication to preparation, an uncanny ability to change speeds and (lots of) perseverance.

He pitched five no-hitters in high school, but was barely recruited to pitch in college. He was headed to Montgomery Community College for the fall 1981 semester when he caught the eye of George Bennett, then the coach at St. Joseph's University, at an American Legion tournament.

Moyer's grades weren't stellar, and it was a little late for admittance to that fall's freshman class, so Bennett arranged for Moyer to attend night school, with the promise of full-time admittance if he recorded a 2.5 GPA. Moyer made the grade and was admitted that spring.

A pivotal moment in Moyer's baseball development happened during fall practice, when he met former Hawks pitcher Kevin Quirk, who had signed with the Yankees the previous spring. Quirk had learned to throw a change-up that summer, and upon returning to Hawk Hill for a visit, taught it to Moyer. Without that pitch, there wouldn't be one major-league win, never mind 216.

"It was a great opportunity for me," Moyer said of his time at St. Joe's. "They weren't a perennial power, but it was an opportunity to be seen and continue playing. At 18 years old, I just wanted to play."

During his three seasons at St. Joe's, Moyer caught the eye of scouts, particularly Billy Blitzer of the Chicago Cubs. In June 1984, they drafted him in the sixth round. Two years later, he was in Wrigley Field, beating his boyhood idol, Steve Carlton, in his first big-league start.

"If they said my career was over there, I would have been pleased," Moyer said.

There was a time when it appeared as if Moyer's career wouldn't last a whole lot longer than that. After three unspectacular seasons with the Cubs, he was traded to Texas, where he spent two seasons, and then was released -- three times in three years.

The final release cut deepest. The Cubs had brought him back for spring training in 1992. As they cut him loose at the end of camp, they offered him a job as a minor-league pitching coach. In other words, they didn't think he could pitch anymore.

Even Moyer's father-in-law, former Notre Dame basketball coach Digger Phelps, told Moyer that it was probably time to find a real job.

Moyer kept on pitching.

"I never felt I was done," he said. "I had chances, but I never felt I showed what I could really do."

At 29, Moyer went back to the minors and kept working. He pitched inside, like his old minor-league pitching coach Dick Pole taught him. He added a cutter. And he sharpened the mental part of his game by working with sports psychologist Harvey Dorfman.

Moyer believed he needed just one more chance, but he wondered if he'd already used them up.

"I would have cut the grass if it meant getting back to the big leagues," he said.

In 1993, the Orioles, hamstrung for pitching, called Moyer up from triple-A, and he's been in the big leagues since.

While Baltimore provided the opportunity he'd been seeking, Moyer's career didn't completely jell until July 1996, when Boston, his fifth major-league team, traded him to Seattle. In Boston, Moyer had bounced between the bullpen and rotation, never getting the consistent starting chance he craved. The bouncing stopped when he arrived in Seattle and met manager Lou Piniella.

"Lou said, 'We need pitching, you'll get the ball, go pitch,' " Moyer said. "And for 10 years I did that and I loved it. Having the confidence of Lou and my teammates and playing for a winning team helped immensely."

Moyer says that sometimes it feels as if he's had two careers: the struggles of a young pitcher trying to find himself followed by the success of a seasoned pitcher who did. Or, more succinctly, the career before Seattle and the one after arriving there at age 33. Since the start of the 1996 season, only eight pitchers have more wins than Moyer's 157 and only seven have pitched more innings.

Despite his success in Seattle, Moyer was ready to leave the Mariners when the Phillies called in August. The Phils were in a playoff race and, as difficult as it was to leave home -- and that's what Seattle has become -- that excited him.

Moyer orders a Grande Caramel Macchiato at a Starbucks near the home he shares with wife, Karen, and their six children, ranging in years from 15 to 2. A woman walks by and smiles.

"Thank you for all you do for our community," she tells Moyer.

When it comes to charitable works and service to their fellow man, particularly children and families in distress, Jamie and Karen Moyer loom as large as Mount Rainier in this city and beyond.

They founded the Moyer Foundation six years ago and have raised $10 million to help dozens of charities, ranging from bereavement camps for surviving children to children's cancer.

"We love doing charity work," Moyer said. "But it's not about me and Karen or our staff. It's about the support of this community, which has allowed us to raise money and make a difference."

Moyer's service to his fellow man started when he struggled to stay in the majors with Baltimore in 1993. He visited a 2-year-old leukemia patient named Gregory Chaya at Johns Hopkins. The little boy's prognosis was not good and Moyer knew it. Still, the pitcher was completely taken by the little boy's spirit.

"I thought to myself, 'How selfish am I worrying about keeping my job when he's fighting to live?' " Moyer said. "It put my career in perspective. I was supposed to be there trying to lift that little boy's spirit and he lifted mine. He pushed me without saying anything."

Chaya is now 16 and lives in Blakeslee, Pa. Moyer still speaks with the friend he calls "a miracle" and the miracle roots for the Phillies.

Moyer enjoyed his time in Philadelphia last season. He especially liked that he was back on a contending team, and that his parents, who stayed up late all those nights watching the Mariners on TV from the West Coast, and sister, Jill, could come to the ballpark to see him in person.

"They don't show a lot of emotion," he said of his folks, "but I know inside they're excited."

So are his old friends, many of whom he hadn't seen since high school before his trade to Philadelphia.

"I had a lot of messages passed down to me," Moyer said. "It was fun. I signed a lot of autographs and a lot of people had stories. I heard kids say, 'My dad played against you,' or 'My uncle is so-and-so and he said hello,' or 'Your sister is my teacher.' "

Moyer tries to have fun with the attention, but never loses sight of his job. On days he pitches, he can't allow anything to shatter his pre-game concentration and preparation. He has talked about the importance of both with teammates, particularly Cole Hamels. Organization officials love the way Moyer mentored the 23-year-old pitcher last season and believe Moyer's impact on the team will be felt even on days he doesn't pitch.

That's OK with Moyer. He'll do whatever he can to help bring a parade worth skipping school for back to Philadelphia.

"The dream is no different than it was when I was 8," Jamie Moyer said. "My dream was always to be a major-leaguer and win a World Series. I think winning a World Series at age 44 would be pretty cool."