YEARS AGO, when Carlos Ruiz was young and I was, well, younger, I stood aside a bilingual reporter named Jorge Ortiz on the steps of the Phillies' dugout. This was amid that five-year run of division championships, when Ruiz had ascended from his status of part-time catcher to trusted handler of the best pitching staff we have ever seen in Phillies uniforms.
Chooch was already a beloved figure by then, the photo of him wrapped around Brad Lidge after the final out as commonplace in these parts as a signed photo of you or a relative standing next to Bobby Clarke.