Booing Del Ennis

In looking back at his record for the Philadelphia Phillies, Del Ennis would appear to have all the makings of the ultimate local hero. Ennis was born and bred in Philadelphia. He graduated from Olney High School; he turned down a big money (for the time) offer from the Yankees to play for the Phillies and he was an outstanding player and one of the greatest sluggers in Phillies history. Yet instead of becoming the hero he richly deserved to be, Ennis was booed unmercifully by Phillies fans throughout much of his career here.

Let's first provide a little context. Del Ennis was signed in 1942 out of Olney High by the Phillies and played one season at Double AA Trenton before enlisting in the Navy during World War II. Upon his discharge from military service in 1946, he joined the Phillies and was an immediate success, hitting .313 with 17 homers and 73 RBIs in his rookie season. Ennis was named to the National League All-Star team.

Over the next ten years with the Phillies, Ennis was a consistently reliable slugger, averaging 25 home runs and 109 RBIs, with a very respectable .286 batting average. To this day, Ennis ranks behind only Mike Schmidt and Ryan Howard in Phillie home runs, behind Schmidt and Delahanty in RBIs and in the top 10 in nearly every conceivable offensive category including hits, runs, doubles and even, incredibly, triples.

On the 1950 Whiz Kids team, Ennis was the primary offensive threat. As indispensable as Robin Roberts and Jim Konstanty were to that team, the Phillies would not have won the pennant without Ennis' heroics. He hit .311 that year, with a career high 31 home runs and a league leading 126 RBIs.

So why the booing for this certifiably outstanding local slugger? Phillies fans are famous for their booing, and especially for the booing of sluggers. Schmidt, Dick Allen and Pat Burrell were all targets of vociferous boo birds at various times in their careers. But Schmidt, as great as he was, could be wildly inconsistent at the plate and a bit enigmatic with the press and public. Phillie fans don't like their athletes introspective. Burrell, too, was maddeningly inconsistent and in his later years, a defensive liability. Allen, as the first great African American Phillies player, had a target on his back from the start and tended to garner negative publicity for his off field activities.

But what can we point to in Ennis? He was certainly no gazelle in the outfield, with a lumbering gate that made him look more awkward than he was. Eddie Sawyer, manager of the Whiz Kids, said "He was a good outfielder, had a good arm and ran good for a big man." In truth, Ennis did make quite a few errors in the field. Robin Roberts remembered that he once dropped a routine fly ball with the bases loaded, inviting a chorus of boos that could be heard all the way up in Bucks County. The next day he hit a grand slam to win the game.

Nothing can invite booing in Philadelphia like lack of hustle. Jimmy Rollins heard the boo birds on those occasions when he failed to run out a ground ball. By all reports, though, Ennis was a full out hustler all the time. Richie Ashburn said, "Del played every game as hard as he could. He hustled all the time. He hustled like Pete Rose, but he never looked like he hustled that much." Maybe there is a clue in that last part of what Ashburn said. Ennis didn't appear to be hustling. In Philadelphia you not only have to hustle, but you must also look like you are hustling. Long-time Phillie coach, Maje McDonald, said "Del loped in from the outfield, Ashburn dashed. Del looked like he wasn't trying, but he was one of the toughest and hardest-working guys we ever had."

What about strikeouts? The image of the big slugger striking out with the game on the line has invoked boos since mighty Casey was at the bat. Like most sluggers, Del struck out some, but not at the level of most sluggers. In fact, Ennis never struck out more than 65 times in a season. For perspective, Ryan Howard struck out 68 times by June 1^st in 2014, after just one-third of a season.

According to Ennis' wife, Liz, the booing really did bother him.

"The booing was hurtful to him. It really was. Every time he was interviewed, the very first question everybody would ask is, ‘Why did the fans boo you like they did? He always said that as long as they paid money to get into the ballpark, they were entitled to boo. But the fact of the matter was, he didn’t understand it. He really didn’t understand it. And I don’t either.”

Make no mistake about it, the booing Ennis endured was prodigious. Here is how his wife Liz remembered Del's comments about it.

"When there was a lot written about Mike Schmidt being booed, Del couldn't believe it. He'd say, 'They think that is booing? That's nothing.' He didn't think that was anything compared to what he got every game, every at-bat, every move he made."

In retirement, Ennis seemed to be more famous for being booed than for being a great player. The first question out of every reporter’s mouth was about the booing and not about his near Hall of Fame worthy career. The booing came to define Ennis more than his considerable on-field achievements did. His number fourteen was retired by the Phillies to honor Jim Bunning, the Hall of Fame pitcher who wore the number in the 1960s. No such honor has been afforded Ennis.

So, there you have it. Fine player, all-out hustler, consistent performer, RBI machine, pennant winner and target of unremitting boos. After the 1956 season the Phillies traded Ennis to St. Louis where he enjoyed his final stand out season. When he returned to Philadelphia in a Cardinal uniform for the first time, the fans stood and cheered and cheered. As Joni Mitchell says in the song, "Don't it always seem to go, you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone."

As to those thousands of fans who jeered Del Ennis over the years, I have just one word for you, "Boo."