Tommy Mac's Good Week

Citizens Bank Park is the biggest bar in Philly.

by Mike Newall

Tommy Mac couldn't be happier these days.

The other night, he's sitting at the rail in Reale's Restaurant & Bar on Frankford Avenue in Mayfair, smiling into his Miller High Life. Gary, the owner of the place, is going on about how Murph, a bartender, might've unintentionally killed a jockey the day before.

"We had the race on the television," explains Gary. "And Murph called the horse a homo and just like that the horse went down and the jockey went flying."

"Sensitive horse," says Murph.

Tommy Mac isn't paying much attention to the chitchat. His thoughts are on the ballpark and the upcoming National League Championship Series against the Los Angeles Dodgers.

"It'll be exciting as hell," says Tommy Mac, jabbing his beer in the air for emphasis. "Those 10 minutes before game time when the stadium electricity becomes electrified and we're scrambling to get everyone to their seats ... wow."

Tommy Mac's more than just a fan. He's a stadium usher — or "host," according to team's official job description — one of the 300 men and women who escort fans to their seats at Citizens Bank Park home games. Although the entire city is once again rallying around the Fightin' Phils, for Tommy Mac, the club's extended playoff run means real money — an extra $7.50-per-hour bonus, to be exact. Plus, his job offers an inside seat to witness a possible championship.

"This is a city of champions, no doubt," he says. "But the Phils really haven't won anything in 15 years. There's a real feeling around the stadium that's going to change this year."

Colleen the bartender puts a free drink down on the bar.

"Here you go, Mac," she says.

Thomas Robert McIntyre has been a stadium host for five years, having followed in the footsteps of his father-in-law, Hank Markis, a Phillies legend who worked the stands for 25 years.

"He'd been pushing me to do it for years," says Tommy Mac. "I finally went down and interviewed. I told them I had a good personality and liked working with people."

Before going to work at the stadium he supported his family by selling police, trash and water trucks to the city.

The Phillies treat him well, he says.

"We're the second highest-paid [hosts] in the National League," he says. "And if we work all [81] home games, we get a $200 bonus."

After two years at the stadium, Tommy Mac was appointed Chief Steward for the Stadium Workers Union. With the position came a permanent section. Tommy Mac chose Section 128, right along the third base line and just above the Diamond Club. A perfect view of the entire field.

"I got mostly season ticket holders," he says of his section. "Plus, the visiting team's family and friends. It's a good spot."

"Our main job is to 'greet and seat,'" he explains. "To provide that 'oh wow' moment for guests as they walk up the tunnel and the field first comes into view."

"Oh yeah?" says a winking Murph. "Then why you always tell us to go screw ourselves whenever we come to the game?"

HALF OFF DEPOT

Why live life at full price?

"You need to be up on whichever team is coming into town so you can answer any guest questions," he says. "How we performed against them last time, who's pitching, what trades have been made. It helps to read both papers in the morning."

The playoffs have added their own set of challenges, with the team rumored to be increasing stadium capacity by issuing 1,500 more standing-room-only tickets.

"When Citizens Bank Park opens its doors, it becomes the biggest bar in Philadelphia," says Tommy Mac. "There's no training in the world to prepare you for how to deal with someone who's been drinking two hours before the game and then tries to put away five or six more at the stadium."

Any home field losses will present the biggest challenge to the stadium hosts.

"We have to say goodnight to everyone," says Tommy Mac. "If they lose, a lot of times it goes something like, 'Good night. Thank you for coming,' to which people reply, 'F-you, they stink.'"

Tommy Mac drains his beer as if trying to extinguish any bad luck. Murph comes over, drapes his arm around him, and asks:

"How come whenever I come to the game, you charge me a buck every time you wipe my seat?"

Dispatch is filed from all corners of Philadelphia. E-mail mike.newall@citypaper.net.