She’s sold peanuts at Phillies games for 49 years with spunk, and she’s ‘not giving it up’ anytime soon

Cheryl Spielvogel doesn’t have to be at the ballpark until an hour before first pitch, but for years, she’s shown up early. She likes to sit in Section 112, stretch out in the sun, and watch the players warm up on the field.

This daily routine has led to some interesting interactions. A few months ago, Kyle Schwarber was walking back from a charity event in Ashburn Alley, when Spielvogel spotted him.

“Hey,” she barked, “You’re in my office.”

Schwarber turned around to find a 73-year-old peanut vendor, dressed in a yellow uniform, sunglasses, and a backward hat. She repeated herself.

“You’re in my office,” she said, motioning to the lower level. “Can we take a picture?”

Schwarber obliged. He liked her spirit, and Spielvogel, who has sold peanuts at Phillies games since 1976, has plenty of it.

“She could easily just do her job, but she’s making an effort to connect with us,” Schwarber said. “It’s really cool.”

Schwarber wasn’t the first player to run into Spielvogel, and he likely won’t be the last. She is the oldest Phillies vendor working today. It’s a job she has by choice, not necessity. Spielvogel, who grew up in Cheltenham, worked as a systems analyst for a medical company for 45 years.

She was able to buy a house and a car, but it didn’t fulfill her. So, in April 1976, Spielvogel called the Phillies, asking “for any job they had.” They told her to apply to the Hot Pants Patrol, but that wasn’t the kind of job she was looking for.

“I was not wearing that,” she said.

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She decided to try something else, and contacted Nilon Brothers, a concessions company that had a contract at Veterans Stadium. They gave her the choice of selling peanuts, popcorn, or hot dogs. The hot dog carrier was too heavy, which eliminated that option. Popcorn was sold in a big plastic bag, which didn’t appeal to Spielvogel, either.

So, she stuck with peanuts, working night games after her day job. For a lifelong Phillies fan, it was a thrill. It still is.

“I’m 73, and those 40 rows, they’re getting to me,” she said. “Forty rows, up and down. But I’m gonna have a cane, and I’m still be gonna be going up and down those rows. I am not giving it up.”

Over the last 49 years, Spielvogel has developed relationships with everyone from Larry Christenson to Nick Leyva to Dallas Green to Bob Boone. These relationships haven’t precluded her from voicing her opinions.

Leyva, who managed the Phillies from 1989 to 1991, used to live in Spielvogel’s neighborhood in Chesterbrook. She would see him at the local Wawa, where she’d give the manager some constructive criticism.

“He’d be getting his coffee and I’d be screaming, ‘Why are you playing Von Hayes?’” Spielvogel said. “‘The guy is terrible, you know?’”

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She was particularly close with the Boone family, which sat behind home plate at the Vet over the catcher’s 10 seasons in Philadelphia. Sue Boone, Bob’s wife, helped Spielvogel get a ticket to Game 4 of the 1980 World Series in Kansas City.

Christenson was on the mound, but he didn’t last long. The starter allowed four runs in just one-third of an inning and departed after 22 pitches.

Spielvogel makes sure he never forgets it.

“Every time I see him, I say, ‘Hey, I was at that game where you got crushed!’” she said with a grin.

Current Phillies are not exempt from her teasing. Schwarber, despite being “gracious with his time,” was not among Spielvogel’s favorite players. She characterized his 2023 season as “an abomination,” because he finished the year with a .197 batting average.

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“When I was kid, I always thought that if you didn’t hit .270, you didn’t belong in the big leagues,” she said. “Now, it’s .220, which doesn’t make me very happy. He couldn’t even hit .200, which drove me crazy, but, to his credit, he’s really turned it around.”

(Schwarber hit .248 this season.)

The longtime peanut vendor has worked thousands of Phillies games. She has seen the good, the bad, the mediocre, and everything in between, but thinks this team is better than any other in franchise history.

It has made the 2024 season as enjoyable as any she’s worked. Spielvogel loves her job, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. She is not a people person by nature. Walking up and down steps, from foul pole to foul pole, can be physically taxing, especially in the summer heat. Her commute from Valley Forge takes about an hour each way.

But watching these Phillies makes it all worth it.

“The worst thing, right now, is the [Schuylkill] Expressway,” she said. “I seen them rebuild it four times. I’ve sat that in traffic. But then I come here and I relax. Relax from driving on that thing every day.”

When Spielvogel first arrived at the Vet in 1976, she was unsure of what to expect. She certainly didn’t expect to stumble into a job that she’d have for the next 49 years. When she reflects on that first season, she’s surprised she didn’t quit.

“I’m glad I didn’t,” she said, “but I don’t know why I came back.”

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There was a steep learning curve ahead of her. Spielvogel didn’t know she had to scream what she was selling while walking throughout the ballpark, and she didn’t know she had to bring her own change.

She often forgot to tie her apron, and a fan once stepped on one of her straps. Her hard-earned money spilled out of her pockets and onto the ground.

“That was a lesson learned,” she said.

Veterans Stadium had its quirks, which Spielvogel learned the hard way. There was one step that was slightly higher than the others — “Section 222, Row 8″ — and no matter how times she tried not to trip, she’d almost always fall.

Citizens Bank Park, which opened in 2004, has been a much more enjoyable experience for her.

“The Vet was all cement and falling apart,” she said. “The wires were drooping. They take care of this place. I just think it’s beautiful. When I walk through the portals and I see it, my little heart starts beating, you know?

“That’s why when I come in here, and it’s set up for a concert, it really bugs me. This should not be a place where you have a concert. This place should be pristine, every day.”

A lot has changed since those first few days in 1976. Peanuts no longer cost 40 cents. Nilon Brothers was bought out by Ogden Food Services, which was bought by Aramark in 2000.

But Cheryl Spielvogel is still throwing bags of peanuts right to fans’ fingertips, and she has no plans to stop anytime soon.

“I always tell them, ‘I might be older than all you guys, but I’m better than all you guys,’” she said. “You know?”