Ryan Howard is becoming a master of the waiting game

"Baseball's the only game where you can completely take a person out of the outcome of the game," said Howard, who has spent many plate appearances standing in the batter's box watching the opposing pitcher play catch. "It's frustrating in the sense that if you're competitive, you want to try to help your team win as much as you can."

Which, essentially, Howard is doing by accepting those free passes. Take Game 4 of the NL division series, for example. With a runner at third and Howard at the plate with two out in the third inning, Milwaukee catcher Jason Kendall signaled for an intentional walk.

"I told Kendall I want to play too," Howard said.

But the walk forced Brewers pitcher Jeff Suppan to throw a strike to the next hitter and he left it too far out over the plate. Pat Burrell hit it out, effectively ending Milwaukee's season and sending Howard and the Philadelphia Phillies on to the NL Championship Series against the Dodgers, beginning Thursday here.

Despite those possible consequences, there's a reason why teams won't pitch to Howard.

Over the last four years he has led the majors with 177 homers and 499 runs batted in, making the walks a sign of respect as well as a source of frustration.

"You know the situation. Everybody's out there trying to win," said Howard, who tied a major league record two years ago with five walks in one game. "It's an honor. But at the same time, if you've got a competitive nature, you want to go out there and try to hit."

If Howard is still trying to accept patience as a virtue, though, there are other traits that he learned at an early age, such as hard work, responsibility, justice and sacrifice. Things his parents taught him through deeds as much as words.

Howard grew up in suburban St. Louis, where he and twin Corey were the youngest of four children born to Cheryl and Ron Howard, childhood sweethearts from Birmingham, Ala.

When he was 14, Ron Howard braved fire hoses and police dogs to take part in a march for civil rights, only to be one of the first demonstrators arrested. Days later, another prisoner, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., wrote a letter from that Birmingham jail.

It was a life-changing experience for Howard and King.

But while his father marched with King, Ryan Howard marched with his high school band, playing the trombone as well as baseball, football and basketball.

So it fell to his parents to make sure the lessons of the civil rights era were not lost on their children.

"They definitely let us know about the struggles, the trial and tribulations they went through," Howard said. "That's what made them who they are today."

Ron, a manager at IBM, and Cheryl, who worked for Southwestern Bell, also taught their four children that simply being good wasn't good enough.

Getting a B in school wasn't sufficient as long as getting an A was attainable. Going three for four on the baseball field wasn't sufficient as long as going four for four was possible.

Success wasn't tied to achievement. It was measured by commitment, by desire.

"It was always striving to be better," said Howard, 28. "Taking whatever it is that you've done and trying to stretch it out knowing you can try to make it better."