Results tagged ‘ Billy Williams ’
In the April edition of Vine Line, we debuted a back-page column called “The 10th Inning with….” which offers fan perspectives from the outside looking in. The fans are mainly celebrities or prominent personalities around Chicago giving their impressions on all things Cubs.
We’ve received a nice amount of positive feedback on the column and hopefully it will appear every other month, alternating with “Stretching Out with…”
Popular WXRT Radio on-air personality Lin Brehmer was nice enough to volunteer his services as our inaugural columnist. He has been a die-hard Cubs fan since 1984, when he moved to Chicago. Here is his story:
Cubs fans come from every corner. They grow up at the corner of Southport Avenue and Irving Park Road, and come back to discover a post office where their houses used to be. They grow up on the farms of Iowa, where the crackle of a transistor radio transports them to another world. My collision course was nothing short of providential.
Raised in a region where the pinstripes were of a different color, four brothers from Oak Park, Ill., introduced me to the lineup of Kessinger, Beckert, Williams, Santo, Banks, Hundley, Altman and Phillips. We roamed the asphalt schoolyards of New York looking for a game. Playing stickball, Joel, Adam, Benji, D.K. and I would take turns being the Chicago Cubs or the New York Yankees.
In 1970, we started the Cleo James fan club for the unheralded and unloved Cubs outfielder. This past October, 38 years later, Benji sent me an official looking document that reads:
“For Lin Brehmer: Founding Member and President-for-Life of THE CLEO JAMES FAN CLUB. In honor of, and appreciation for, Mr. Cleo James, Outfielder, Chicago Cubs (1970-1971).”
And then there’s an anonymous quotation: “He won some, he lost some, but he suited up for them all.” In the middle of the document in a protective plastic sleeve is a baseball card of good old number 24. On the back of the baseball card we learn that Cleo’s hobby was table tennis.
I first arrived in Chicago in 1984 on the promise of World Series tickets.
Perhaps, I was naive.
1984. The year of nicknames. Sarge. Ryno. Penguin. The baseball world was giddy with talk of the Cubs that summer. It was the season that Whitey Herzog, the eminence grise of the Cardinals, called Ryne Sandberg the greatest player he’d ever seen.
My job interview was grueling. I spent the summer eating stuffed pizza and watching the Cubs. By September, I was hunting for a place to live. Tooling around the North Side in a borrowed Mazda, I drove to the corner of Clark and Addison and stopped.
I am not a casual baseball fan. As a skinny pre-teen, I was a fire-balling southpaw for such teams as Lazar’s Kosher Meats, Gerard Towers, and the star-crossed Michael C. Fina Jewelers.
In 1971 and 1972, I was the MVP of my high school baseball team. When Rotisserie Baseball was invented at the start of the ’80s, I immediately took my team, Brehmer’s Bombers, to the cellar. I’ve coached youth baseball for six years.
So that first view of Wrigley Field might as well have been accompanied by a cinematic choir of angels or by the sonorous voice of James Earl Jones summoning me, “Lin Brehmer, this is your destiny.”
The Cubs did not go to the World Series in 1984. I know because I watched Game 5 against the Padres in my landlord’s apartment right beneath my own on the 3700 block of N. Wayne Avenue.
And a strange fever grew.
Living four blocks from Wrigley Field, I spent the next few baseball seasons in the right-centerfield bleachers with Marty, Mars, Wendy, Norm and Sara.
My apartment window had a sign in the window that read “No Lights In Wrigley Field,” and as soon as lights were installed, we protested by buying a night game/weekend season ticket package. Aisle 239. Row 4.
‘ve been to 28 out of the last 29 Opening Days. My mental scrapbook holds many images: Mark Grace’s torrid postseason run in ’89. Gaetti’s home run in the ’98 one-game wild-card playoff. The nine-run comeback against the Rockies in the summer of ’08.
And my favorite moment of all: Andre Dawson’s final home game in ’87. That was the year that Dawson offered the Cubs a blank check for his salary and won the MVP for a last-place club.
All season long the bleachers would pay tribute to Dawson’s unrelenting commitment by bowing to him as he jogged out to rightfield. Andre Dawson was cut from different marble than most media-savvy ball players of the modern era. He was as stoic a presence as I have ever seen in a major-league outfield.
On that last day, Dawson hit his 49th home run. When he trotted out to his place, he faced the bleachers for the first time, raised his arms in the air and bowed repeatedly to the fans. The gesture was so out of character that it spoke to the man’s caliber.
I have watched the Cubs now through my son’s eyes. He went to 15 games before he was 1 year old. As a toddler, he ran up the ramps and then down the ramps. He watched the “El” from the rightfield corner. And one afternoon I looked to my left to see him with a pencil in his hand, peanut shells scattered on an open scorebook, writing 6-4-3 DP. A Cubs fan born and bred. A kid gathering stories to pass on to another generation. A young man who will understand there is no winning without losing.
Robert Browning, who knew nothing of baseball but much of human nature, once wrote, “That heaven should exceed a man’s grasp or what’s a heaven for.”
Every year, I take a magic marker and draw an X through the month of October. That’s because I plan on being at Wrigley Field through the end of that month.
Lin Brehmer has been the morning disc jockey at 93XRT since 1991. He first came to the station in 1984 so he could go to the World Series at Wrigley Field.
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Last Wednesday legions of Cubs fans descended upon at HoHoKam Park for the second annual “Fergie and Friends” charity event. The night was hosted by Cubs Hall of Famer Fergie Jenkins, who was accompanied by dozens of his Hall of Fame contemporaries such as Juan Marichal, Bob Feller, Rollie Fingers and Billy Williams, as well as popular former players like Dave Stewart, Bob Dernier and George Foster.
While hundreds of fans milled about the infield, taking pictures with their heroes, one had wandered out to centerfield talking to his family on his cell phone. After finishing his conversation, clad in Yankee pinstripes and a familiar “NY” on his chest, pushing up his sleeve like he was still on the mound. He sauntered back but then was approached by two little girls.
“Hi, mister. Can we take a picture with you?”
The girls turned to each other, then to the man. “Um, who are you?”
“I’m Tommy John. I pitched for the Yankees.”
These days most people might not remember the 288 wins John had over his 26-year career, but they surely are familiar with the revolutionary elbow replacement surgery that bears his name. While in Spring Training last week, I got to spend a couple of minutes with John. He might have grown up in Terre Haute, Ind., and played for the White Sox, but he was quite clear–in a slight Southern twang–for which team he rooted as a youngster.
Tommy John: You know I grew up a Cubs fan, don’tcha? You know that, right?.
Vine Line: Well, you grew up in Indiana, so I would hope so!
TJ: Remember when you were a little kid and had to name your favorite players?
‘Course I’m back in the dark ages, but my favorite Cubs were Dee Fondy, Hank “The Mayor” Sauer and Bob Rush. I was a huge Bob Rush fan. I was a big Cubs fan because my parents were big Cubs and Bears fans.
VL: Can you describe the thought process in deciding to undergo, until then, what was an unknown and risky surgical process?
TJ: When I first hurt my elbow, I went to see Dr. Frank Jobe the very next day. In 1974, there were no MRIs, there was no nothing. You had X-ray. They X-rayed it, and the elbow was sound. There were no chips or anything. But they held my humerus up sideways and my elbow just opened up. Dr. Jobe said he thought I had torn the ligament in the elbow. But they let me just rest for 3-4 weeks. After that, I met the [Dodgers] at Shea Stadium, and they ran me out there to throw batting practice. As soon as I got on the pitched surface, aw gosh, did that hurt. I had to stop. So I went to our longtime trainer, Bill Bueller, and asked him what if we taped my arm like you would a sprained ankle.
VL: Wait. You taped your arm…together?
TJ: Oh yeah. Seriously. I could throw pretty good with that, but the ball didn’t have that late life to it. So I called Dr. Jobe and he laid it out on the line. He said I had two choices. I really didn’t need to have to surgery. He said I could live an everyday life without having it. But I would never pitch major-league baseball again. So I said, if I do it, what are the chances? Probably about 1 or 2 out of 100. But if I didn’t do it, there was no chance at all. I even called my old buddy Hoyt Wilhelm in Florida.
VL: Hey, Wilhelm was a Cubs for a short while.
TJ: Yep, he was. So I called him and said I was going to have this surgery. And if I couldn’t get my fastball up where I needed it, he was going to have to teach me a knuckleball!
VL: So how did Dr. Jobe explain the procedure?
TJ: Well, Dr. Jobe said he was going to remove a tendon from my right arm–the palmaris longus. Transplants of tendons in the hand wrist were done all the time, so he used that technique because it would be very similar in the elbow. There was also a hand surgeon Dr. Herbert Stark. Dr. Stark would be present during the procedure because he had done many of those hand and wrist tendon transplants, but it was never done in an elbow of a guy who threw 90 mph. Dr. Jobe had four other doctors in there with him, several of his associates because he said “I don’t know what I’m doing and I want as many bright minds who can help me.” That’s why I told him he was the right doctor to do this.
VL: And so how did the surgery turn out?
TJ: There was a chance that the tendon in my elbow simply snapped off and they could perhaps reattach it. But when they went in there, Dr. Jobe said the torn ligaments looked like a big bowl of spaghetti. It had just ruptured and strands were all over. So it had to be replaced. And when I felt on my right arm the stitches, I knew they had to go and get the tendon.
VL: You went on to continue your career. Despite the fact you won 288 games, how do you feel about the surgery being your legacy in baseball?
TJ: Guys are coming back in 12-15 months, throwing as hard or even harder than they were before. But they need to regain that feel for pitching. They gotta re-learn pitching. But at least they’re pitching. It used to be a death sentence for a baseball player. Now guys like Kerry Wood and John Smoltz and tons of other guys have been able to have productive careers. And that’s OK with me.
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MESA, Ariz.—Every year, major-league ballplayers must endure an annual ritual of combing their hair, shaving their faces clean (or at least somewhat) and mugging for the camera. It is Photo Day for them, and they put their best faces forward, despite the fact it’s 7:00 in the morning.
The entire first floor of Fitch Park is turned into a massive photo studio. Among the participants, the Associated Press, Major League Baseball, Topps and Comcast, among others. It’s all put together very efficiently and organized, led by media relations director Peter Chase and his staff. Our staff photographer Steve Green organizes the photographers in location.
For the most part, all the players arrive at their designated times, albeit bleary eyed. There are very compliant to whatever poses we ask them to do. Steve and I are there to do a special photo shoot for our gameday program, CUBS2009. We had scripted the poses beforehand knowing we wouldn’t have more than a minute with each one.
The shoot went swimmingly. We got some great shots Geovany Soto and Ivan DeJesus modeling the WBC jersey of their home country Puerto Rico. We also got a couple and of Mike Fontenot and Carlos Zambrano doing their pregame routine of “Z” hammering “Font” into the ground. They were very playful and the shots turned out great. But to see them, you’ll have to get the program at Wrigley Field!!!!
We also got Ryan Dempster and Rich Harden playing hockey with hockey sticks and using a baseball as a puck. Tremendous. Chad Gaudin and Reed Johnson seem like they are in a competition to see who can look most like a billy goat. Perhaps when they finally shave off their goatees, we can say we killed the “curse of the billy goat!”
Of course, then there was manager Lou Piniella, who’s seen his fair share of photo days. In fact, say Lou, how many of these photo days have you seen?
“Too many,” he laughed.
However, Cubs legend Billy Williams skipped photo day and went straight out to the field..
“‘Greenie!’ You don’t need me, right? Man, you got enough pictures of me after all these years. Look, after you turn 65, your face don’t change much year to year,” Williams said, cracking up all the photographers.
Hey, when a Hall of Famer says he doesn’t want to take a picture, he doesn’t have to take a picture.
We also worked with Morry Gash, the photographer from AP. I asked him for a photo that he shot the other day. It was such a candid shot of Alfonso Soriano that I had to ask him if we could just borrow it for the blog.
But altogether, the photo shoot–and day–worked out very well….I’d encourage everyone to check out the gameday program the next time you’re at Wrigley Field. The pictures and experience was certainly worth more than a 1000 words.
PS. And one special note of sympathy goes out to our hitting coach Gerald Perry, who also was not at photo day. He lost his father last Friday to colon cancer. We are all thinking about you, G.