This weekend’s rare Cubs-Twins interleague series at Wrigley Field presents a personal dilemma – who to root for?
Born and raised in Minnesota, I grew up a Twins fan, idolizing the likes of Kirby Puckett, Kent Hrbek, Chuck Knoblauch and Torii Hunter. However, for the past three and a half years I’ve lived on Chicago’s North Side, quickly adopting the Cubs as my National League team. In just a few seasons, I’ve become immersed in the ups and eventual downs associated with supporting the Lovable Losers. But I believe…
So when taking in a game from Section 409 this weekend, I’ll be rooting for the underdog.
Sure, the Twins could easily qualify as an underdog with one of the worst road records in the Majors this season. But I’m not looking at records or stats from this season, but rather the omnipresent baseball stat.
I’m talking about MLB’s ultimate underdog, the team with zero World Series titles in the past century. The team expected to lose the big one, whether it’s due to a curse, bad luck or (insert excuse here).
The Cubs.
Other charter franchises have endured extensive Word Series title droughts and recently reached the promised land. The Red Sox got it done in 2004 and the White Sox in 2005. Can this finally be the Cubs’ year?
The Twins had their years in 1924, 1987 and 1991. I had the fortune of experiencing and celebrating the ’87 and ’91 titles during my childhood. Both years I proudly waved my Homer Hanky during the victory parades, and can fondly recall the excitement and elation. To this day I still get chills from watching highlights of Kirby Puckett’s ‘91 Game 6 heroics.
Having been there, I sympathize with baseball’s ultimate underdog and their loyal fandom that has surrounded me for more than three seasons.
I want nothing more than to witness this great city erupt in overdue celebration and be a part of it all…
What a wonderful way to spend a sunny Sunday morning, visiting Wrigley Field. With just a dozen or so fellow pilgrims, it was a private tour through the hallowed halls of the stadium.
My guide was my friend and colleague, Mike Roach. For nearly ten years, Mike has been leading faithful fans through Wrigley to support Cubs Care charity. From tours and other events, the group donates $1 million annually to the Chicago community.
So it’s for a good cause, but it’s a great time.
You travel below the bleachers, check out the press box, the clubhoues (closed today because of the game) and end up on the field. You can pose for photos in the batter’s on-deck circle and dugouts. (I examined the recent damage to the ill-fated Gatorade machine. Looks like it will make it for at least another Zambrano start.)
The volunteer guides are a wealth of knowledge about Cubs facts and fables. For example…
Did you know the press get all they can eat (and drink) for $7 in the cafeteria? After Harry Caray’s death, the cafe stopped serving beer.
The batter’s eye, which is now standard for every stadium in the majors, was created because of the antics of the early Bleacher Bums. Even dressed in the suave styles of the day (suits and summer hats), the fans would strip down to white shirts to blind the opposing hitters to the ball.
The iconic green scoreboard has never been hit by a batted ball (but a golf ball has made it up there!) And why is it green? When the scoreboard was raised in 1937 there was a surplus of army paint. (Least pleasant fact of the day = scoreboard operators can only be men based on the restroom facilities. I’ll leave it at that.)
The Cubs are good neighbors, paying for any broken car or building window hit by a stray fly.
I had to avert my eyes from the score box, turn off the radio and try to ignore this dreadful eight-game slide. No doubt about it, it was a tough week to love the Northsiders.
But we’ve had bad weeks before…consider:
September 1969: The whole MONTH ranks here. After a season of flirting with first place, the Cubs are mathematically eliminated by the hated Mets, who clinched the pennant. (There was also an eight-game losing streak involved in this collapse, but I will not dwell on that). Many blame the black cat, but not Tribune sports columnist Robert Markus: “My theory is that the Cubs simply had to shoulder their burden too long. It is impossible to endure the kind of pressure.”
October 6th, 1945: You know the story. Won the first two out of three. Brilliant pitching. Then the goat. The alleged curse. Lost the series.
Early October 05, 07, 08: Bad weeks.
And as you know, like my Cubs fans brethren, I’m an optimist. So I’d rather focus on the great moments.
January 27th, 1982:The Phillies shipped us Ryno as an afterthought in what is now considered one of the most one-sided trades in baseball history.
May 6th, 1998: Kid K keeps ‘em whiffing. In his fifth career start, Wood strikes out 20 in a one-hit, no walk game against the Astros.
May 26th, 2009: Cubs begin run that leads them to the World Series…I’m wearing my lucky hat.
My out-of-town cousin made his first visit to Wrigley this weekend. As we settled into the upper deck, he looked around and asked “what happened to the Bud house?”
It’s a common sentiment.
The house, which sits at the corner of Kenmore and Waveland, featured a bright red roof and Budweiser signage for decades. In 2008, the long-time owners sold the property (for a reputed $8 mm), and with it the control of the coveted, seen anywhere-in-the park ad space. A battle ensued between the new owners and advertiser. The result? Debuting for the 2009 season, a new ad, hawking Horseshoe Casino.
I’ve never been inside the house, but have heard it’s pretty amazing. There were bleachers in the building’s attic and the windows were the auxiliary press box viewing area. These windows seemed to have been removed or covered, which I think messes with the historic nature of the site. The house pre-dates Wrigley Field, which opened in 1914. And the auxiliary press box served the overflow of journalists taking in Bears games until Papa Bear and the boys left for Soldier Field in 1971.
Maybe I’m just partial because it’s my gametime beverage of choice. But I do miss the Bud house.
One of the great stories to emerge this baseball season is the tale of 31-year-old rookie Bobby Scales.
He’s toiled 11 years in the minor league and finally has his shot in the bigs (due to perhaps a combination of hard work, a little luck and a long list of injured Cubs). The ChicagoTribune reports today that he’s never even visited many of the ballparks where he’s now taking the field. As for Wrigley, “I don’t even know where I’m going…I couldn’t find the bathroom.”
(Though some would argue, and perhaps rightfully so, that playing professional ball at any level is hardly “toiling.”)
Scales seems to be having the time of his life. In every media interview he beams and seems genuinely grateful for the opportunity to play at the elite level. And he’s not afraid to poke a little fun at himself, acknowledging he’s a “late bloomer.”
And though the Friendly Confines must be a world away from PGE Park where the AAA Portland Beavers call home, Scales has made it look easy. He’s having a solid start, batting .333. Scales has played for the Beavers, the Pawtucket Red Sox, the Mobile Bay Bears, the Iowa Cubs, the Red Barons of Scranton. By the way, average attendance for the Beavers? 5,500 per game.
Baseball fans love a Cinderella story. And we Cubs fan crave a fairy tale ending more than most. So I’m going to keep watching Bobby, cheering and believing!
Colorful, quirky terms that you can imagine were invented on a field decades ago. I learned some from watching Bull Durham. Picked up others listening to Ron Santo (but question the validity and widespread use of those, they might just be Ronny being Ronny.) And even today, I frequently turn to my husband (who’s been fluent in the lexicon much longer) and ask “what are they talking about?”
A few of my favorite phrases…
Can of Corn: Easy fly ball; sure to be caught. Why? From the New Dickson Baseball Dictionary: The phrase, first used in 1896, makes reference to a long-ago practice where a grocer would use a stick to tip a can of vegetables off a high shelf, then catch it in his hands or outstretched apron.
Pay Off Pitch: The pitch thrown when the count is 3-2.
Punch Out: Strike-out.
Frozen Rope: A hard line drive.
Dinger: Home run. Tape Measure Blast: An extremely long home run.
Hot Corner: Third base.
Meatball: An easy pitch right down the middle of the plate. Cheese: Fastball.
Battery: The catcher and pitcher. Tools of Ignorance: Catcher’s equipment.
Texas Leaguer: A bloop hit that drops between the infielder and outfielder.
Around the Horn: Post-out throw around the bases. (Unless initiated at first base, does not include the first baseman). Can also refer to a 5-4-3 double play.
Hot Stove: Off-season moves and trades. From Wikipedia: An old fashioned term for a “winter league” with no games, just speculation, gossip, and story-telling…presumably conducted while sitting around a hot stove. One of Norman Rockwell’s well-known baseball paintings is a literal illustration of this term.
And speaking of bad hot stove moves, can we discuss Mark DeRosa again? I don’t want to be the blog dedicated to “we shouldn’t have traded DeRosa” (though I firmly believe this.) Ryan Freel’s claim to fame: UTILITY INFIELDER. Right, we had one of those. DeRosa’s looking better and better with the current run of injuries. We’ll need to invent a new phrase for a move that never should have happened. How about a Jim Hendry Special?
Can one fan’s hat choice really impact the outcome of a game?
No other modern sport is as filled with superstition, ritual, idiosyncrasies and downright odd behavior as today’s game of baseball.
Consider the quintessential quirkiness of one of my favorite players, Nomar Garciaparra. Before every swing of the bat, Nomar progresses through a highly ritualized routine. He kicks the dirt with each toe. Touches the right glove, then the left. Taps his helmet and then is ready to swing away.
The beloved “old Cub” Ron Santo is remembered for the exuberant heel-click in the exuberant 1969 season. After an exciting June win, Ronny ran down the third base line and leapt leprechaun-style three times. He continued the lucky move until a September skid brought sadness to the Wrigley faithful.
The tradition dates back to the early days of the game. Cap Anson, one of the founding fathers of the Chicago Cubs (though the team he played on went by the Chicago White Stocking moniker) would not speak to his pitcher the day he was pitching.
There are countless other rites performed to honor the fickle baseball gods in the hopes of being blessed on the diamond…not shaving, wearing the same clothes, not touching the foul line when entering the field, refraining from using the term no-hitter while one is in progress, etc.
For me, it’s about the lucky hat.
If I’m enjoying the game from Section 409 and the Cubs win, I keep wearing the hat to respect the streak. Game after game. If they lose, the hat has to be cosmically cleansed to get the bad luck out of it (in the magic part of the top of my closet).
I am one of those fans stunned and slightly heart-broken by the trade of DeRosa this winter. And I haven’t gotten over it yet. Did you see DeRo’s production in the Yankees massacre? (Six RBIs).
I keep thinking about his contributions in 2008. Need someone on third– he’s there. Filling in for Fukudome – all over it. He hit a career-high 21 homers and drove in 87 runs in 149 games while playing six different positions (38 games in right field). I was glad to see him get some national attention in the recent New York Times story “DeRosa Is Never Out of Position for the U.S.”
But still not sure why the Cubs traded away an everyday, everyman. I think our current right fielder played fewer than 20 games in right last year. Was it an upgrade? I don’t think so. (No offense Milton.)
And come June, how will fans like me feel when the Tribe comes to town?
From Section 409 is a fan's view of the Chicago Cubs and Wrigley Field. I'm a PR maven by day, but my nights and weekends belong to the Cubs. I fell in love with my husband during a Cinco De Mayo double header in the bleachers. I'm a "homer," always believing this will be the year. Section 409 has been our season tickets home since 2001. Enjoy!
Baseball has a beautiful language.
