100 Things Cubs Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die (13 page)

35. Curse the Cubs at the Billy Goat Tavern

During the 2004 Cubs Convention, a few months after a mysterious force seemed to help end the Cubs’ season in stunning fashion, Dusty Baker was asked what the biggest surprise was during his first season as manager.

“The strength and magnitude of the goat,” he replied. There was laughter all around, and Baker was clearly trying to play to the crowd, but if you think there wasn’t at least some truth in what Baker said, you’re kidding yourself.

The curse of the Billy Goat dates to the 1945 World Series against Detroit, when tavern owner Billy Sianis purchased two box seats to Game 4 at Wrigley Field. One was for himself, and the other was for his pet goat, Murphy. That part of the story seems to be undisputed. An account in the October 7, 1945, edition of the
Chicago Tribune
by the legendary “In the Wake of the News” columnist Arch Ward, who created baseball’s All-Star Game, read:

“Andy Frain employed 525 ushers and other attendants to handle the capacity throng.… He had trouble with only one fan, Billy Sianis, owner of a tavern near Chicago Stadium, who insisted on bringing a goat into the box seat section.… Sianis had a ticket for the goat, which was paraded thru the American league area of front box customers
…the critter wore a blanket on which was pinned a sign reading, ‘We Got Detroit’s Goat.’”

There’s no mention of Sianis, or Murphy for that matter, being ejected. But according to the curse, the goat made a nuisance of himself and Sianis was told Murphy would have to leave Wrigley Field. In response, Sianis wired Wrigley a message after the Cubs lost the World Series in seven games: “Who stinks now?”

At some point, Sianis is alleged to have placed a curse on the Cubs that would stop them from ever winning another pennant, and indeed they have not.

But was there ever really a curse? There was little written about any curse before a series of columns in the late 1960s by Ward’s “In the Wake of the
News” successor, Dave Condon. The first of the columns appeared on December 26, 1967, and explained the hex Sianis had put on the Cubs. However, Condon wrote, Cubs owner P.K. Wrigley had asked that it be removed in 1950, and Sianis had agreed.

In his book,
A Chicago Tavern: A Goat, a Curse and the American Dream
, author Rick Kogan writes that the idea to forgive Wrigley was a publicity stunt hatched from the mind of
Sun-Times
sports editor Gene Kessler and Sianis, as big a showman as Chicago ever had, was eager to play along.

On April 15, 1969, another Condon column raised the issue. He wrote that Wrigley had requested that the hex be lifted in September 1950 with a personal note to Sianis: “Will you please extend to Murphy my most sincere and abject apologies for whatever it was that happened in the past.”

While Murphy accepted Wrigley’s apology, Condon wrote, Sianis apparently did not and the curse remained for another 19 years. With the Cubs off to a fast start in 1969, Sianis decided it was time. And so, according to Billy Sianis himself, the curse he placed on the Cubs was lifted more than 40 years ago. When the Cubs completed their 1969 collapse, Sianis and Condon again collaborated on a goat-related column, this time so Sianis could explain why the Cubs failed to beat the Mets. Did he blame the curse? Uh, no.

“The Cubs lost because the New York Mets just played like hell!” Sianis rationally explained.

Ever since, each time the Cubs have contended the curse of the Billy Goat has been raised and exploited. Publicity stunts, barely disguised as efforts to lift the hex, are executed and the tale lives on.

The story of the curse of the Billy Goat is too much a part of Cubs lore to ever fade away. Real or not, the curse is known to every player, coach, and manager who has a hand in whether a World Series will again come to Wrigley Field. And that may be its real legacy.

How to Get to the Billy Goat Tavern

The original Lincoln Tavern, bought by Sam Sianis in 1934 and renamed the Billy Goat Tavern soon after, was at 1855 W. Madison Street about a block from where the Bulls and Blackhawks play at the United Center.

The Billy Goat, also made famous in the 1970s by
Saturday Night Live
’s “cheezborger” sketches, has been at its present location at 430 N. Michigan Avenue since 1964.

36. Rick Monday…You Made a Great Play

It was an odd sight to see on a Sunday afternoon at the ballpark, though certainly not completely out of the ordinary. Two people—a man and a boy—had left the stands at Dodger Stadium and were running across the outfield.

Happens enough that Rick Monday, who was patrolling center field for the Cubs on April 25, 1976—the 100
th
anniversary of the Cubs’ first game—thought they were just a couple of punks. Have your fun and get off the field, he thought.

Moments later, Monday realized fun wasn’t what was on their mind. He saw the man, later identified as 36-year-old William Thomas, spread an American flag on the outfield grass in left-center not far from him. Thomas’ 11-year-old son was kneeling by his side.

If Monday had been a linebacker in a previous life, maybe he would have mauled the man as he was desperately trying to light the flag on fire. But he was a former Marine, so he had his priorities straight.

“I was just going to run them over until I saw them with the can of lighter fluid. I could see they were going to try to burn it,” he told reporters after the game. “If you’re going to burn the flag, don’t do it in front of me. I’ve been to too many veterans’ hospitals and seen too many broken bodies of guys trying to protect it.”

Monday arrived in time, scooped up the flag, and carried it to safety before it could be set ablaze. Thomas was so stunned all he could do was rise to his feet and throw the lighter in Monday’s direction. Thomas and his son were taken away by security, and the next time Monday came to the plate the grateful Dodgers organization declared, “Rick Monday…
You Made a Great Play” on their scoreboard. Later on, the electrified crowd spontaneously belted out “God Bless America.”

The event became a national story, and even without any video of the incident—the Dodgers weren’t televising the game and it wasn’t until 1984 that a Super 8 film was discovered—Monday’s life was instantly transformed. He went from being an above-average but not very well-known outfielder on a crummy team to an American hero who saved our national symbol from ruin. Decades later that’s still what he’s best known for, despite hitting a very respectable 241 home runs in 19 seasons, including 106 during a five-year stint with the Cubs from 1972–76.

Monday, who was traded to the Dodgers nine months after the incident and later became a radio broadcaster for the team, has never stopped insisting the public reaction hasn’t been for what he did but for what the American flag represents. Monday kept the flag and more than 35 years later it remains in his possession.

“I feel honored and proud when I am asked about the flag, not because I stopped two people from burning the flag that afternoon in Los Angeles, but because it represents a lot of rights and freedoms,” he told WGN-TV’s Bob Vorwald. “A lot of years have gone by, but it is still important enough that people still discuss. That flag is still a part of my life, and my wife and I have been blessed to be able to take it around the country and raise a lot of money for charities. It’s meant a lot to me.”

37. Cubbie Occurrences

Thank you, Lou Piniella. Even if you hadn’t helped the Cubs to two division titles and mostly good baseball during your nearly four years managing on the North Side, you would still be remembered for coining a most apt and memorable term: Cubbie occurrence.

It came about during spring training of 2008 when Piniella was telling reporters his starting rotation would soon be set, “unless there’s an injury or a Cubbie occurrence.”

So what exactly is a “Cubbie occurrence?” Longtime
Chicago Tribune
Cubs beat writer Paul Sullivan asked Piniella to define what he meant by the term, but he wouldn’t bite. There was so much attention to it that Piniella actually banned the term being used around him the following season.

There’s little doubt Cubbie occurrence will remain part of the Cubs’ lexicon for years to come, so it seems important to come up with a proper definition. Maybe it’s best to start with what it’s not. It’s not anything positive. Perhaps after the Cubs win a few World Series titles thanks to the Yankees doing something interminably stupid or suffering from a stroke of impossibly bad luck, a Cubbie occurrence could be a good thing. But we’re not quite there yet.

Would a trend, such as the Cubs’ inability to find a decent manager over time, be a Cubbie occurrence? No, an occurrence is more specific. It is the “action, fact, or instance of occurring.” By definition it has to be an instance and trends will not be allowed. There also has to be an element of oddity or surprise to it. Players get injured in baseball all the time, and there’s no documentation that the Cubs have had more than their fair share. But they have had some pretty strange ones that certainly qualify.

The entire 1985 starting rotation going on the disabled list at the same time isn’t a Cubbie occurrence. But Steve Trout, who was a member of that rotation, falling off a stationary bicycle and going on the disabled list is. The 2004 collapse isn’t a Cubbie occurrence, but Kyle Farnsworth had one late that season when he kicked an electric fan after a bad outing and ended up on the disabled list.

Farnsworth’s injury was part Cubbie occurrence and part stupidity, which is also how you’d describe what Mike Harkey did on September 6, 1992. The former No. 1 draft pick was 4–0 with a 1.89 ERA and pitching the best baseball of his career when he did a cartwheel on the Wrigley Field outfield grass and ended up with torn ligaments in his knee.

Seemingly typical injuries can also qualify. On June 4, 1981, Bobby Bonds tripped while running on Pittsburgh’s Three Rivers Stadium’s astro turf and broke the little finger on his right hand. A routine injury? Sure, but it’s a Cubbie occurrence because the injury came in the first inning of his first game since the Cubs acquired him from Texas. Bonds was injured before he even had one at-bat.

There have been other bizarre injuries, from Jose Cardenal’s stuck eyelid to Sammy Sosa hurting his back when he sneezed to Ryan Dempster breaking his toe hopping over the dugout fence following a Cubs win. Mike Remlinger once got his pinkie caught between a pair of recliners and had to go on the DL.

But enough with the silly injuries. Let’s move on to the hard-core Cubbie occurrences, the ones that have kept Cubs fans awake at night. The earliest one might be Babe Ruth’s Called Shot in the 1932 World Series. Whether he actually did it or not, the home run was on a huge stage at Wrigley Field and has brought years of ridicule. That kind of thing just doesn’t happen, yet it did to the Cubs.

Fast forward to Shea Stadium in September 1969. The Cubs were already in the throes of their historic collapse and had enough bad luck when a black cat ran onto the field. Sure enough, it headed straight for the Cubs dugout.

A little
more than 15 years later the Cubs got past the New York Mets and were in the National League Championship Series against the San Diego Padres when first baseman Leon Durham let a ball get through his legs. It was the only error on a ground ball he had committed all season and also the first time he had to play with a sticky glove that a teammate had accidentally doused with Gatorade.

In 1998, the Cubs were in Milwaukee and Brant Brown was patrolling left field as a late-inning defensive replacement. The Cubs led 7–5, there were two outs, the bases were loaded, and Ron Santo was ready to scream “Yeahhhh!” when a fly ball came Brown’s way.

Instead of ending the game, the ball hit the heel of his glove and fell to the ground. Santo screamed “Oh, nooooo!” and the Cubs lost. Because they made the playoffs that year, this incident pales compared to the biggest Cubbie occurrence of all time.

Hint: It involves a guy named Bartman.

38. Horrible Playoff Collapses, Part 1: 1906

If you think a Cubs–White Sox World Series would be epic today, of course you’re right. Bigger than in 1906? Even in the age of ESPN, that’s debatable.

What’s not up for debate is that the 1906 Cubs, who went 116
–36 and still hold the major league record for highest single-season winning percentage, choked badly against their city rivals.

It wasn’t a Crosstown Classic right after the turn of the century. The Sox were playing at the 39
th
Street Grounds, four blocks south of where U.S. Cellular Field stands now, and the Cubs’ home was about five miles away at the West Side Grounds, now occupied by the University of Illinois Medical Center.

The ballparks were much tinier then and only 12,693 could crowd into the Cubs’ park for Game 1, which was played as the city remembered the Great Chicago Fire that had raged 35 years earlier. Chicago’s windy politicians closed City Hall, and thousands packed the Chicago Auditorium and other venues to follow the game on manually operated scoreboards.

The 1906 White Sox were a middling team until a 19-game winning streak propelled them to the top of the American League. Yet even in the dead ball era, they had little by way of offense and were dubbed “The Hitless Wonders,” a nickname they’d initially live up to against the Cubs.

The Cubs, on the other hand, were on the verge of a dynasty. The famed infield of first baseman Joe Tinker, second baseman Johnny Evers, and shortstop Frank Chance, in his first year as manager, was still in its youth. Chance was the veteran of the group at 29, Tinker was 25, and Evers just 24.

The pitching staff was led by Mordecai “Three Finger” Brown, who went 26–6 and had a 1.04 ERA, barely above that of Jack Pfiester (20–8, 1.51) and Ed Reulbach (19
–4, 1.65). Even though
Chicago Tribune
columnist Hugh Fullerton predicted a White Sox victory, he was thought to be daffy and the paper wouldn’t even print such an outlandish prognostication. Few gave the Sox any chance of competing, let alone winning. That is, until the games started.

The Sox were going to have spitballer Ed Walsh start Game 1,
but chilly temperatures led player-manager Fielder Jones to give Nick Altrock the ball. They also had to contend with a back injury to shortstop George Davis and reconfigured their infield, moving third baseman Lee Tannehill to short and replacing him with backup George Rohe, a fateful decision.

Brown started Game 1 and was perfect through four innings until Rohe lashed a triple, equal to the number he had during the regular season. He came around to score on a fielder’s choice, and to the shock of Chicago’s rabid baseball fans, the Sox held on behind Altrock’s stellar pitching for a 2–1 victory.

The Series shifted back and forth between each team’s park, and Game 2 at the 39
th
Street Grounds was a cakewalk as expected. The Cubs scored three second-inning runs, and Reulbach allowed only one hit in a 7–1 victory to even the series. But with Walsh’s spitball holding the Cubs to just two hits in Game 3, the Sox came back for a 3–0 win.

Brown served up his own two-hitter in Game 4, beating the Sox 1–0
. These Cubs were masters of what today might be called “small ball,” and they scored their only run on a single, a pair of sacrifice bunts, and finally an RBI single by Evers.

Even though the Sox had only a total of 11 hits so far, Chance was feeling pressure and decided a change was needed. Neither team had been able to win in its home park, so when Game 5 commenced at the West Side Grounds, Chance had the boys wear their road flannels. Just like future efforts to end the Billy Goat curse, this non-baseball measure proved futile.

The previously punchless Sox pummeled Reulbach and then P
f
iester in relief as they won 8–6 despite committing six errors. On the verge of a humiliating defeat, the Cubs had no more room for error so Chance turned to Brown, who had pitched so brilliantly two days earlier.

But the move backfired. Brown had little left, giving up eight hits and seven runs in 1⅔ innings. Game 6 did have a controversy on par with other Cubbie occurrences of later years. According to a story in the October 15 edition of the
Chicago Tribune
, a Chicago policeman kicked Cubs outfielder Frank Schulte as he raced to snare a fly ball with two on and two out.

True or not, and accounts of the incident differ, it may not have mattered. White Sox starter Doc White stifled the Cubs en route to an 8–3
win and the South Siders’ first World Series title. As the final out was recorded, fans of both clubs raced onto the field and there were reports of distraught Cubs fans attacking supporters of their rivals.

Only after the Series was over did the
Tribune
print Fullerton’s prediction, and even then it was still hard to believe.

“I can’t understand it,” Johnny Evers lamented. “But probably I will in two or three days.”