How rally towels became essential for the Phillies and remind John Middleton why he owns the team

The Phillies were gearing up for another September surge when a group of front-office executives gathered in the boardroom at Citizens Bank Park. They had important matters to discuss.

“When are you bringing back the rally towels?” said Pat Gillick, then the team’s general manager.

The team first gave out the towels in 2001, but they did not become a thing until 2007, when the Phillies chased down the Mets for an improbable division title as fans whipped and waved the towels for six straight games.

A year later, Gillick — the Hall of Fame baseball executive and architect of three World Series champions — needed to see them again. Gillick signed Jayson Werth, traded for Brad Lidge, and brought Jamie Moyer home. He also saw the value in rally towels.

“Being a GM is a lot of things,” said Dave Buck, the team’s executive vice president. “It’s also about having a pulse of the town. That’s why Pat is in the Hall of Fame. He cared about the rally towels for what they do to the fans, for completely firing up the crowd. It’s phenomenal.”

The rally towels have become an integral element of Citizens Bank Park, appearing when the weather dips and the pressure rises. The piece of fabric that could dry dishes is swung over a fan’s head like a helicopter propeller as the crowd roars with the thunder of a fighter jet.

It has proven to be the perfect accessory for October, and it’s hard to imagine that they ever played postseason baseball in Philadelphia without them. The Phillies did not invent rally towels, and they are not the only team to give them out. But there’s something different about the way they wave them in South Philly.

“They know that’s their role. That’s the way they participate,” said Mark DiNardo, the team’s director of broadcasting and video services. “Short of grabbing a bat and stepping into the box or coming out of the bullpen and throwing an inning, this is the way they do their job when they come to the games.

“I’ve been in multiple ballparks during the postseason, and no one does it like our folks. They do it like it’s their job, like their lives depend on it. Other people, they just don’t attack it with the same passion. I’ve seen a lot of limp wrists. I’ve seen a lot of like you’re waving goodbye to someone going off on a cruise. It’s pathetic. But our fans do it like it’s their job.”

The era that sparked Philadelphia’s affinity for rally towels felt like ancient history when Major League Baseball passed a rule in 2016 banning white and pale-colored towels, believing that they impede a player’s ability to track baseballs.

Six years later, the Phillies finally were back in October, and they needed rally towels. But they could no longer be white. Powder blue wasn’t allowed, and navy blue looked too much like the Dodgers. They gave out red ones a year earlier on opening day but didn’t like the way they looked since so many fans wore red, causing the towels to not resonate visually like the old white towels.

“They didn’t pop,” said Scott Brandreth, the team’s director of promotions.

But the Phillies didn’t have much of a choice. The new towels had to be red. This time, they hit.

“It’s one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen in my life, anywhere,” managing partner John Middleton said. “People are dressed in red. They’re waving the towels. It’s a frenzy. It really is.

“I’ve been to bullfights in Spain. Nothing like our fans. I’ve been to soccer games in Europe. But I think Red October may just be the single best sporting event to watch in person of any sport of any team anywhere. It’s spectacular.”

The Phillies gave out the towels for September games at Veterans Stadium in the early 2000s, following a trend seen across pro sports. They waved “Terrible Towels” in Pittsburgh for the 1970s Steelers and the Minnesota Twins had the “Homer Hanky” in the late 1980s.

It eventually seemed like every team was giving out rally towels. But they faded away. Some teams gave out inflatable noisemakers called Thunderstix that fans banged together. The Rays gave out cowbells in 2008 when they lost to the Phillies in the World Series. The Phillies didn’t need noisemakers. They stuck with towels, which fans hold like batons as they conduct a deafening symphony.

“When you look at 45,000 people dressed in red, waving rally towels, and screaming — literally the stadium is moving,” Middleton said. “It tells you that this is why it’s important to go out and sign people like Bryce Harper. It’s why you pay Zack Wheeler $40-plus million a year for three years. It’s because this is how the fans react. It’s important to them. They appreciate it. They recognize it. I love that. I have other owners who look at me and say, ‘We don’t get this.’

“It’s why I keep telling everybody, it may be a privately held business that we own, but it’s not a private organization. It’s a very public organization. It’s a stewardship. We have an obligation. We are accountable to the fans and to the city. If you don’t approach it that way, you shouldn’t be an owner, in my opinion.”

» READ MORE: ‘That’s John Middleton!’ Why the Phillies owner is always wandering around Citizens Bank Park.

The Phillies have sold out each of their 41 postseason games at Citizens Bank Park, and no National League team has a better postseason winning percentage at home (.683) since 2007, when the Phillies hosted their first playoff game in their new park. Since returning to the postseason in 2022, the Phillies have won 12 of their 16 games at home with red towels.

Yes, the Phils were no-hit in the 2022 World Series and eliminated at home last October in the National League Championship Series. But the scene in Philly — which Nick Castellanos once referred to as “the jungle” and compared to an English soccer match — often feels like an advantage. It feels like a baseball game played against the backdrop of a rock concert. The energy level is as frenetic as the rally towels that are whipping.

“It’s Philly. It’s different,” Buck said. “I’ve been at league meetings where other teams say, ‘Oh, we don’t like rally towels because you can’t clap.’ We’re like, ‘Dude, come to Philly.’ There’s no way to explain it except that it’s Philly and it’s different.”

Buck and the other executives told Gillick in that 2008 meeting that the towels would soon be back. The Phils were nearing a four-game series against Milwaukee, which led them for a wild-card berth. If the Phillies could pass the Brewers on Sunday, the towels would be there.

“It just gathered steam and told its own story. It’s pretty cool,” Brandreth said. “People were starting to expect it at the gates. I’d be out there sometimes when people were coming in, and they were waiting to grab it. They were ready to go.”

The Phillies drew into a tie with the Brewers on Sunday afternoon and played them again three hours later in the second game of a day-night doubleheader. Brandreth called the team’s giveaway staff — a group of volunteers who hand out promotions at the gates — and rushed them to the ballpark. They had boxes of towels waiting to be opened.

The fans didn’t have towels for the day game, but they were waving them at night as the Phillies completed a four-game sweep. Six weeks later, the Phillies were world champions, and the rally towels waved all October. It wouldn’t be postseason baseball in South Philly without them.

“It’s a really special thing,” Middleton said. “It gets me excited, not that I generally need more excitement to stimulate me. I’m grateful. I’m really grateful the fans respond this way.

“My God, could you imagine having 19,000 or 16,000 people in the stands? I mean, that’s a bad spring training game almost. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to work in a market like that. I probably wouldn’t own the team. That’s for damn sure.”