It’s Finally Next Year
Or in the words of the late great Harry Caray, “Holy Cow! Cubs Win! Cubs Win! Cubs Win!”
In 1965, I was transplanted into Chicago from Southern West Virginia. It was quite a shock to my system, but as youngsters are prone to do I latched on to something familiar. Baseball. On most summer afternoons, if I was at home, there was a Cubs game on WGN. There were no lights at Wrigley Field so every game was an afternoon game. I went to my first professional baseball game at Wrigley and was there some late spring days when I should have been in school. Wrigley was then and even now with modernization, America’s best ball park. All it takes is one visit to fall in love with the place. From a fan perspective, there are no bad seats. In my day, the center field bleacher bums wore yellow batting helmets or construction helmets and throwing back opposing team homerun balls became a tradition that is not optional. Not adhering to that bit of Wrigley lore could end up bad for you. I always compare Wrigley that to the game I took my son to at Atlanta’s old Fulton County Stadium. Sitting there way up in the nosebleed seats, it was tough to keep up with the little tiny people playing the game. There simply was no comparison to Wrigley’s “friendly confines.”
I was watching the game on television when Ernie Banks hit home run number 500. Just as plain as ever I still recall Cub’s announcer Jack Brickhouse and his trademark “Back! Back! Hey-Hey!” as the ball left the park. I remember Ron Santo running across the outfield clicking his heels together every time the Cubs won. I remember Leo Durocher showing the umpire the shoe polish on a baseball to prove a player was hit by the pitch and that was certainly one of his more congenial umpire visits. This was the days of leather cleats and chewing tobacco and no play reviews. I remember the players in the Cubs dugout throwing a ball attached to a string on top of the dugout and pulling it back just before one of the kids could grab it. I remember the team recording a song, “Hey Hey holy mackerel the Chicago Cubs are on the way,” Just before “Tom Terrific” Seaver and the “Miracle Mets” wiped out a 13 game Cub’s lead to go on and win the pennant and the World Series.
I have been a Cubs fan ever since. Since 1969, I have also hated the Mets. Following last season’s National League Championship Series (NLCS), I wondered which I hated most the doggonned goat or the Mets. It is the Mets.
Throughout the NLCS and the World Series, I mostly heard about the greatness of the opposing pitchers. Joe Buck, one of my favorite sports announcers by the way, clearly had a man crush on Dodger’s pitcher Kershaw which he transferred to Cleveland’s Kubler and Miller. It was obvious, whenever a game tightened, that the announcers and the pre-game crew were on the verge of declaring same old see you next year Cubs. The announcers were not rooting for the other teams, but you could sense what they thought. Or it was likely just my own insecurity and the doubt I kept beating back except that Buck certainly did have that man crush. The Cubs just proved that great pitchers simply cannot dominate great hitting on their second or third visit.
As good as this Cubs team has been all year, I cannot say honestly that Russell to Baez to Rizzo is any better than Kessinger to Beckert to Hickman. I do not think that Bryant is a better at third than Santo. I do not believe Lester or Arietta are any better than Fergie Jenkins, who could also hit homeruns, or Milt Pappas and as steady as is Hendricks, he ain’t no Greg Maddox – yet. And today’s Cubs have no better long ball hitter than Ernie Banks – at least not yet. But I can tell you what I do know. Ron Santo was clicking his heels running toward center field last night and Ernie Banks with that big ol’ friendly smile is saying, “Let’s play three today.”
I believe I am going to go order my World Series Champions cap, and probably a sweat shirt or two. Probably drag out my Son’s twenty thousand or so baseball cards and day dream some today. Maybe I will ponder the world for a bit and remind myself there is nothing more American that baseball, nothing more exciting than a seven game World Series, and there is still a place where we can all come together and forget our problems for awhile.
Thank you Cubs. I took you 50 years from when I first became a fan, but it was worth the wait.
© 2016 J. D. Pendry
Category: Politics
I remember Dizzy Dean’s sportscasting, that drawl of his and ‘high pop fly down the baseline’, wishing I could see what was going on. But it was 1955 and we didn’t have a TV because my father thought television was trash.
There’s a lot of history since 1908. And I hope that 92-year-old Chicago WWII vet who got four tickets for $1.25 each at the 1945 World Series stayed up late enough to see the Cubs win The Big One.
And also, that the 102-year-old lady who sold hot dogs for $.10 at Wrigley Field in 1945, and takes a shot of Jaegermeister every time the Cubs made a run – well, I hope she didn’t wake up with a hangover this morning.
Awesome series… hopefully the spirits of those Cubs fans that waited in frustration for 108 years are finally at rest (I know that my father is probably smiling – he’s been gone for almost 20 years). I’m also hoping that Cub players from the past, both those still with us and those that have passed on, are smiling today.
CUBS WIN! CUBS WIN! CUBS WIN!
I was happy to see the Cubs win.
I rarely follow baseball. I love the game, but rarely follow it. Why?
Well, because I’m a Padres fan, and I absolutely fucking HATE (in ascending order): the Dodgers, the Braves, and the Goddamn motherfucking Yankees (I will neither confirm nor deny burning Derek Jeter in effigy while wearing my Tony Gwynn jersey…then pissing on the ashes). Therefore, life tends to be less stressful if I don’t pay attention to league standings.
I love the game of baseball. I suck at it, but I love it. I will teach it to my children. I will take them to ballgames at Petco, as few things are as enjoyable to witness in person as a baseball game. I have many fond childhood memories of listening to live radio broadcasts (Grandpa was old-school!) of Padres games in my Grandpa’s truck. Even if I don’t pay attention to what’s going on in the National League West, I’ll never say no to going down to the ballpark to catch a game.
God, J.D., I remember 1969. I still haven’t forgiven the Mets for it, and I never will. All Cub fans wanted was that one measly pennant. We’d have been happy until 2001 with it. But, no … the Mets had to grab a miracle. I secretly prayed that the Cubs would clobber them in the NLCS last year, but no joy, sadly. I have to relate to you my favorite baseball story. (If I’ve told this before, forgive an old man’s repetition.) I, too, grew up at Wrigley Field, living less than two miles away from it. During the summer of 1970, shortly before my family moved to Georgia, my father allowed me and a buddy to go to a Cubs-Braves doubleheader by ourselves, taking the bus to get to the park. (My buddy’s father was first cousin to Orlando Cepeda, then with the Braves.) we were both 12 and it was our first time doing something like this. The Braves had won the first game and were well on the way to winning the second, when a couple sitting in the box seats behind the Cubs dugout rose to leave. They handed us their ticket stubs and said, “Go on down, boys. You might get an autograph or two.” We went to the box seats, and on the next pitch (so help me), Don Kessinger, the Cubs shortstop, hit a pop foul ball that bounced in the seat I had just gotten out of. It gets worse. Thirty-five years later, my daughter was about to graduate from high school, and she had earned academic honors the first semester. One of the things she was awarded were tickets to an Atlanta Braves game of her choice. She asked if I wanted to go (Duh!) and I chose the game. Naturally, it was when the Cubs would be at Turner Field. If you’ve never been to “The Ted,” there are no bad seats. Her tickets were front row, upper deck, down the first base line. Good seats and a good game; this time the Cubs were on the winning side. During… Read more »
In other news. Hell received two feet of snow this morning. It has been reported that the “Lake of Fire” has frozen over.
I gotta say, that was THE best series I can recall. And I have seen many. Neither team held any interest for me before the series but after the Injuns went 3-1 and the management ordered the World Champs stuff and had the champagne and ponchos ready, I was rooting for the Cubsters. Game 7 was a pip. I saw class throughout and it made me freakin’ happy.
That WAS a terrific game last night. I am very happy for all the fans who have been loyal to the Cubbies all these years. I’ve always had a great deal of respect for them – it’s easy to support winning teams, but ya gotta admire folks who do so in spite of not winning much of anything. Cubs fans were tried and true.