The 26th Man - A Newsletter by Michael Canter: V1 E2 - Smoking the Ivy
Good Afternoon, and welcome subscribers to my second newsletter. I hope today finds you all in fine fettle and I come bearing some good news. The newsletter will be officially named The 26th Man and will be a weekly starting today. So instead of getting a post from me every other Saturday, you'll get one once weekly going forward. Huzzah!
As the subscription list grows I'll transition to a more interactive site like Mailchimp, or something similar, but for now this is about as good as it gets. And though sharing newsletters is usually considered a breach of etiquette, I encourage you to share the first couple so that you can help me build my subscriber list. I am hoping to reach 2,000 total, and so far I have just you five :-)
Direct potential new subscribers to this link to subscribe. If you are mentioned as a referral, I'll send you $5 for each annual membership that I can verify as a direct referral.
More Good News for Subscribers
I have to take some time off of work through January so I am working on a second big project along with my book. I am building a baseball news aggregator website. You've heard of the Drudge Report? We can playfully call mine the Pudge Report in honor of legendary Red Sox and White Sox catcher Carlton Fisk. The actual name will mirror the name of my newsletter - The 26th Man. It will combine links to free and subscriber-based baseball sites, lots of fantasy baseball links, a live Twitter feed, and links to some of the better blogs. Think of it as a one stop library for all the best baseball news. Best of all, it will only be available to my newsletter subscribers!
Trivia Time
The Cubs first home night game wasn't played in 1988. It was actually played in 1943.
According to anything I can find online, night time officially begins at 6pm. Well, on June 25, 1943, right at the start of summer when the Northern Hemisphere sees the most amount of daylight in any 24-hour period, the Cubs and Cardinals played a scheduled game at Wrigley Field that started at 6:05 pm. Of course there were no lights at Wrigley at the time, and games weren't as long back then as they are today.
Most Cubs home games started at 3:00 pm back then, and in order to beat the summer heat the team experimented with starting games at different times of the day that season, some as early as 11:00 am. The North Siders may have been on to something with the later start, however, as Hi Bithorn hurled a twilight two-hitter to beat the Red Birds 6-0 in a complete game victory that officially started at 6:05 pm and ended at 8:22 pm - two hours and 17 minutes!
The game was played in front of 6,620 deliriously happy fans who watched the 22-36 Cubs knock off their 34-22 rivals, and Bithorn was 2-for-4 at the plate, including an RBI-double. Sadly, MLB called it a "day game" because sunset officially occured at 8:34 pm that evening, 12 minutes after the conclusion of the game, and it wasn't played with the aid of electronic lighting.
Who Doesn't Love Dingers?
Remember the Tom Glavine-Greg Maddux Nike commercial "Chicks Dig the Longball?"
Baseball fans have always been enamored with home runs, and the more significant the better, so walk off taters are usually at the top of everybody's lists, including mine. In my five decades of being a Cubs fan, I've seen many great home runs, and a number of disappointing ones, too, thank you Bryce Harper. If I had to choose two of my all-time favorite games that were highlighted by players going yard, it would have to be the Cubs 23-22 loss to the Phillies on May 17, 1979, a game that featured 11 combined home runs, or Reggie Jackson pummeling the Dodgers in the final game of the 1977 World Series by leaving the ballpark three times on three pitches. Yes, fans love us some taters.
Here's my top ten Cubs' homers of all time. Let's see if any of my favorites match yours.
"Smoking The Ivy" - A Chapter from My Upcoming Book
Looking back at the Cubs teams of the 1970s, Wrigley Field was not the must-see attraction in Chicago that it is today. In fact, most of the home games were played in front of sparse day game crowds, and the neighborhood was more of a melting pot of immigrants and eccentric individuals, nothing like the upwardly mobile, wealthy residents that live near the ballpark these days.
I used to spend a lot of my summers during my mid-teen years hanging out in the bleachers, mostly because some of the cooler adult fans would sneak me a beer or two, like this one guy everybody called "Baby Fat." His real name was Bob or John or Tom, he was a huge fan of the Rolling Stones, and spent every afternoon home game sitting shirtless in the bleachers, gut hanging over his jeans, hence the nickname. He was probably about 80% beer gut, 20% actual baby fat, if that, as he was in his mid-20s, and likely not carrying any bodily remnants of his early childhood.
But it wasn't just the beer. If you were ever in attendance at some of those mid-70s games and sat in the bleachers, you probably remember the skunky smell that wafted from right to left field, or vice-versa depending on which way the wind was blowing. I'd leave almost every game with a contact high of epic proportions, stopping for Demon Dogs beneath the Brown Line stop on Fullerton to satisfy my urge to devour junk food, caused by the hazy state in which I left each game.
Back then, the Cubs had Andy Frain ushers as security guards, and their jobs would be better described as "staying awake and occasionally helping a fan find his seat." If someone was smoking weed, or "smoking the ivy" as we called it, the ushers usually looked the other way. Every once in a while, you'd get a dirty look or nod from one of the older female ushers, like you were being judged by your grandmother for your bleacher tomfoolery, but that never stopped anybody.
Baby Fat also tried to teach me how to pick up women. He'd started calling me "Stretch" because the summer I turned 15 I had a growth spurt that saw me change from a 5-foot-8 munchkin to a 6-foot-4 string bean. He'd offer up some of the sketchiest advice ever and tried to convince me, that as a boy in my mid-teens, I should be focusing on divorcees because they were looking to avenge their cheating husbands. I apparently represented the perfect demographic to turn a cheating husband into a jealous one.
"Stretch," he'd say, as he pointed out a woman in her mid-to-early 30's. "What you want to to do is slide over next to her, introduce yourself, and when she relaxes just a little bit, lean over, and whisper into her ear."
"What should I say?" was my response.
"Just say 'Woof.' Nice and soft, nice and slow. I guarantee you'll wake up tomorrow morning lying naked in her bed. Maybe she'll even tie you up first."
Mind you, I was still a virgin. In fact, I'm almost positive this happened before I even had my first kiss, or maybe just after.
So I did just as I was instructed. And the woman, who was more than a little perturbed with my antics, hauled off and slapped me right across the right cheek, knocking me to the cement beneath my seat. I walked back to my friend red-faced and ashamed while 50 or so of the surrounding 'bums laughed their asses off.
Back then, the party was just as much fun as the game itself, which I suppose is how Wrigley Field got its reputation as Chicago's biggest singles bar. Afternoon bleacher bums parties were as much a '70s Chicago staple as Chicken Unlimited, Arthur Treacher's Fish and Chips, and Old Style beer. But nothing satisfied your post-high craving for junk food like a couple of Demon Dogs with the works, including that glow-in-the-dark relish over your natural-casing dog, the poppy-seed bun, and plenty of sport peppers. AND NO KETCHUP!
Still, there weren't many women sitting in the bleachers back then. Most were probably morally opposed to the less-than-body-sculpted shirtless men that populated most bleacher sections. Or maybe it was the foul language often directed at opposing teams' players. Most likely they just didn't like being cat-called and hit on during the games.
I look back on those games with fond memories. Some say the contact high is a myth, something that is truly non-existent. Maybe, maybe not. But I got "high" more than anybody I've ever known without once drawing a rolled joint to my lips. And the Bleacher Bums provided life lessons that you'd never get from your parents. As a matter of fact, after the game in which the older woman coldcocked me, she walked up to me and handed me a phone number.
"Call me when you can grow hair on your face, sweetie. I may still be single."
My Personal Top Ten Songs of 1966
Worst Song of 1966
Yellow Submarine by the Beatles. Love the band, hate the song. Sorry, Ringo.
Non-Baseball Links
Some Cool Baseball Links
Fantasy Corner
If you play fantasy baseball these are some of today's minor league stars that could have giant-sized impacts at the big league level next season, even if they are not on Opening Day rosters. If your league allows a farm system, draft these players.If not, make sure you grab one or two for your bench.
Sleeper Pick: Brennen Davis, OF, Chicago Cubs. He's a fast-riser with five solid tools who could be a mid-season call-up, eventually taking over in centerfield, a position the Cubs desperately need to fill.
In Closing
Back in 1973 my dad wanted me to be one of the best little leaguers in my hometown. In 1972 I played for the Indians, and that summer I only got one hit, a triple, on a very cold and rainy April day when the left fielder slipped and fell chasing a routine fly ball. I finished the year 1-for-33 with 24 strikeouts and 17 walks. I had a few stolen bases. After my triple, I successfully stole home, but was called out because I did it illegally. The rule stated you couldn't leave the base until the pitcher released the ball. I was halfway down the third base line before he started his windup. Oh well.
The next summer my dad brought one of his clients to the house to be my personal batting coach for a day. In batting practice I would hit towering home runs, and my dad felt that when I faced live pitching I was pulling my head far too soon, taking my eye off the ball, which resulted in all those strikeouts. Dad thought I was trying to hit a home run with every at bat. He also believed that Cubs right fielder Jose Cardenal would be perfect to teach me how to be a gap-to-gap line drive hitter. After all, that's exactly what Cardenal was.
He was also a little goofy. After a good five hours of instruction in my backyard, I was ready for the big game the next day. I played for the Royals in 1973, and in our game against the Angels that Sunday afternoon I was confident I'd hit a couple of ringing doubles in the gap and become my team's best hitter. No such luck. I went 0-for-3 with three strikeouts, and finished my second season of Little League ball 6-for-54.
The next year I started playing hockey. I was much better at that, and dad was actually my coach. But I think I shattered his dreams of one day being the starting third baseman for the Chicago Cubs. Why? A lifetime batting average of .069 will kill any baseball career, no matter the level of play.
If you'd like to subscribe to my newsletter, the cost is $5 per month or an incredibly discounted price of $36 annually.
Annual Subscription Link
Monthly Subscription Link
Best,
Michael
As the subscription list grows I'll transition to a more interactive site like Mailchimp, or something similar, but for now this is about as good as it gets. And though sharing newsletters is usually considered a breach of etiquette, I encourage you to share the first couple so that you can help me build my subscriber list. I am hoping to reach 2,000 total, and so far I have just you five :-)
Direct potential new subscribers to this link to subscribe. If you are mentioned as a referral, I'll send you $5 for each annual membership that I can verify as a direct referral.
More Good News for Subscribers
I have to take some time off of work through January so I am working on a second big project along with my book. I am building a baseball news aggregator website. You've heard of the Drudge Report? We can playfully call mine the Pudge Report in honor of legendary Red Sox and White Sox catcher Carlton Fisk. The actual name will mirror the name of my newsletter - The 26th Man. It will combine links to free and subscriber-based baseball sites, lots of fantasy baseball links, a live Twitter feed, and links to some of the better blogs. Think of it as a one stop library for all the best baseball news. Best of all, it will only be available to my newsletter subscribers!
Trivia Time
The Cubs first home night game wasn't played in 1988. It was actually played in 1943.
According to anything I can find online, night time officially begins at 6pm. Well, on June 25, 1943, right at the start of summer when the Northern Hemisphere sees the most amount of daylight in any 24-hour period, the Cubs and Cardinals played a scheduled game at Wrigley Field that started at 6:05 pm. Of course there were no lights at Wrigley at the time, and games weren't as long back then as they are today.
Most Cubs home games started at 3:00 pm back then, and in order to beat the summer heat the team experimented with starting games at different times of the day that season, some as early as 11:00 am. The North Siders may have been on to something with the later start, however, as Hi Bithorn hurled a twilight two-hitter to beat the Red Birds 6-0 in a complete game victory that officially started at 6:05 pm and ended at 8:22 pm - two hours and 17 minutes!
The game was played in front of 6,620 deliriously happy fans who watched the 22-36 Cubs knock off their 34-22 rivals, and Bithorn was 2-for-4 at the plate, including an RBI-double. Sadly, MLB called it a "day game" because sunset officially occured at 8:34 pm that evening, 12 minutes after the conclusion of the game, and it wasn't played with the aid of electronic lighting.
Who Doesn't Love Dingers?
Remember the Tom Glavine-Greg Maddux Nike commercial "Chicks Dig the Longball?"
Baseball fans have always been enamored with home runs, and the more significant the better, so walk off taters are usually at the top of everybody's lists, including mine. In my five decades of being a Cubs fan, I've seen many great home runs, and a number of disappointing ones, too, thank you Bryce Harper. If I had to choose two of my all-time favorite games that were highlighted by players going yard, it would have to be the Cubs 23-22 loss to the Phillies on May 17, 1979, a game that featured 11 combined home runs, or Reggie Jackson pummeling the Dodgers in the final game of the 1977 World Series by leaving the ballpark three times on three pitches. Yes, fans love us some taters.
Here's my top ten Cubs' homers of all time. Let's see if any of my favorites match yours.
- Dexter Fowler leading off Game 7 of the 2016 World Series against the Indians.
- Rick Sutcliffe goes yard in the third inning of Game 1 of the 1984 NLCS against the Padres. The Cubs won that game 13-0. That should have been the curse-breaking year. The Cubs were the best team in the National League that season, if not all of baseball.
- David Ross blasting a tater in his final major league at bat in that same 2016 World Series Game 7 as Fowler.
- Kyle Schwarber putting one on the top of the right field scoreboard in the 2015 Wild Card game.
- Ernie Banks hitting his 500th career home run against the Braves on May 12, 1970. At the time, Braves outfielder Hank Aaron had 567 career home runs of his own.
- Javy Baez gets his first major league hit and it's a 12th-inning, game winning homer in Colorado.
- This past summer, Kris Bryant hit three home runs in three consecutive at bats in the 7th, 8th, and 9th innings against the Nationals. The Cubs won the May 17 game 14-6, coming on the 40-year anniversary of the 23-22 game I mentioned above.
- David Bote hitting a walk-off grand slam against the Nationals in 2018.
- Sammy Sosa hitting his 66th home run of the season in 1998. That was the year that Cardinals' slugger Mark McGwire hit 70.
- Jason Heyward's walk-off slam, also in 2018, a few weeks before Bote hit his.
"Smoking The Ivy" - A Chapter from My Upcoming Book
Looking back at the Cubs teams of the 1970s, Wrigley Field was not the must-see attraction in Chicago that it is today. In fact, most of the home games were played in front of sparse day game crowds, and the neighborhood was more of a melting pot of immigrants and eccentric individuals, nothing like the upwardly mobile, wealthy residents that live near the ballpark these days.
I used to spend a lot of my summers during my mid-teen years hanging out in the bleachers, mostly because some of the cooler adult fans would sneak me a beer or two, like this one guy everybody called "Baby Fat." His real name was Bob or John or Tom, he was a huge fan of the Rolling Stones, and spent every afternoon home game sitting shirtless in the bleachers, gut hanging over his jeans, hence the nickname. He was probably about 80% beer gut, 20% actual baby fat, if that, as he was in his mid-20s, and likely not carrying any bodily remnants of his early childhood.
But it wasn't just the beer. If you were ever in attendance at some of those mid-70s games and sat in the bleachers, you probably remember the skunky smell that wafted from right to left field, or vice-versa depending on which way the wind was blowing. I'd leave almost every game with a contact high of epic proportions, stopping for Demon Dogs beneath the Brown Line stop on Fullerton to satisfy my urge to devour junk food, caused by the hazy state in which I left each game.
.Raise your hand if you remember stopping at Demon Dogs after a Cubs game beneath the Brown Line stop on Fullerton in the 1970s & '80s. Hey - @jimmybuffett ate there! The band Chicago, too! pic.twitter.com/4w8Vt8TLTh— Michael “The Mick” Canter (@MEdwardCanter) November 16, 2019
Back then, the Cubs had Andy Frain ushers as security guards, and their jobs would be better described as "staying awake and occasionally helping a fan find his seat." If someone was smoking weed, or "smoking the ivy" as we called it, the ushers usually looked the other way. Every once in a while, you'd get a dirty look or nod from one of the older female ushers, like you were being judged by your grandmother for your bleacher tomfoolery, but that never stopped anybody.
Baby Fat also tried to teach me how to pick up women. He'd started calling me "Stretch" because the summer I turned 15 I had a growth spurt that saw me change from a 5-foot-8 munchkin to a 6-foot-4 string bean. He'd offer up some of the sketchiest advice ever and tried to convince me, that as a boy in my mid-teens, I should be focusing on divorcees because they were looking to avenge their cheating husbands. I apparently represented the perfect demographic to turn a cheating husband into a jealous one.
"Stretch," he'd say, as he pointed out a woman in her mid-to-early 30's. "What you want to to do is slide over next to her, introduce yourself, and when she relaxes just a little bit, lean over, and whisper into her ear."
"What should I say?" was my response.
"Just say 'Woof.' Nice and soft, nice and slow. I guarantee you'll wake up tomorrow morning lying naked in her bed. Maybe she'll even tie you up first."
Mind you, I was still a virgin. In fact, I'm almost positive this happened before I even had my first kiss, or maybe just after.
So I did just as I was instructed. And the woman, who was more than a little perturbed with my antics, hauled off and slapped me right across the right cheek, knocking me to the cement beneath my seat. I walked back to my friend red-faced and ashamed while 50 or so of the surrounding 'bums laughed their asses off.
Back then, the party was just as much fun as the game itself, which I suppose is how Wrigley Field got its reputation as Chicago's biggest singles bar. Afternoon bleacher bums parties were as much a '70s Chicago staple as Chicken Unlimited, Arthur Treacher's Fish and Chips, and Old Style beer. But nothing satisfied your post-high craving for junk food like a couple of Demon Dogs with the works, including that glow-in-the-dark relish over your natural-casing dog, the poppy-seed bun, and plenty of sport peppers. AND NO KETCHUP!
Still, there weren't many women sitting in the bleachers back then. Most were probably morally opposed to the less-than-body-sculpted shirtless men that populated most bleacher sections. Or maybe it was the foul language often directed at opposing teams' players. Most likely they just didn't like being cat-called and hit on during the games.
I look back on those games with fond memories. Some say the contact high is a myth, something that is truly non-existent. Maybe, maybe not. But I got "high" more than anybody I've ever known without once drawing a rolled joint to my lips. And the Bleacher Bums provided life lessons that you'd never get from your parents. As a matter of fact, after the game in which the older woman coldcocked me, she walked up to me and handed me a phone number.
"Call me when you can grow hair on your face, sweetie. I may still be single."
My Personal Top Ten Songs of 1966
- God Only Knows by The Beach Boys
- We Can Work it Out by the Beatles
- Sloop John B by the Beach Boys
- Sunny Afternoon by The Kinks
- I Saw Her Again by the Mamas & the Papas
- Papa Gene Blues by The Monkees (play magic fingers!)
- Ain't That Peculiar by Marvin Gaye
- I Can't Let Go by The Hollies
- Get Ready by The Temptations
- Lightning Strikes by Lou Christie
Worst Song of 1966
Yellow Submarine by the Beatles. Love the band, hate the song. Sorry, Ringo.
Non-Baseball Links
- A video showing a 15-year old with no arms or legs being tackled by a sheriff's deputy is causing quite a stir and has prompted an internal investigation by the Pima County (Arizona) Sheriff's Department.
- Carl’s Jr., AKA Hardee’s, has decided to move on from its racy ad campaigns, according to the Washington Post. You may remember Paris Hilton was the chain's first bikini-clad, cheeseburger-loving model.
- What's the deal with Oat Milk? Is it really that good for you and what does it taste like? Apparently its rise in popularity, along with other types of organic milk like almond milk and hemp milk, for example, has driven Dean's Food into bankruptcy. I drink Oberweis. Always have, always will.
- Local students have had it with springing ahead and falling back, and hope to encourage lawmakers in Illinois to make daylight savings time permanent. That's the time after we spring ahead. It passed a state Senate vote by a 44 to 2 margin on Tuesday.
- Maybe we are better off just being friends? Nike has kicked Amazon to the curb. That takes a lotta balls, but the shoe company apparently wants full control of its brand and its e-commerce. Other retail brands may follow suit.
- Just a reminder, but if you get paid twice monthly by your employer, you probably just got paid this weekend That means there are just two paychecks left with which to Christmas shop. By the way, this newsletter makes a great stocking stuffer for your favorite baseball fan. "Aw man, not ANOTHER newsletter!!!"
- The state of Indiana has passed a new law offering any business that commits to spending at least $750 million to build a new data center FIFTY years of exemption from sales tax. Don't look now, but Indianapolis is about to become the nerd capital of the world.
- I saw a recently married friend of mine on the dating app Bumble yesterday evening, which is generally regarded as an app that empowers women to make the first move in online dating. Watch out ladies, wolves in sheep's clothing be everywhere.
Some Cool Baseball Links
- Giants' outfielder Kevin Pillar received a 10th place vote in the the NL MVP balloting, and people have opinions.
- The Pirates have named a new general manager, and it's Ben Cherington.
- It's quite possible that the Astros are not baseball's only cheaters. MLB has questioned Alex Cora and Carlos Beltran about their roles in the alleged scandal when each was at Houston.
- It's also possible the Brewers may be guilty of some shenanigans as well.Yu Darvish and Christian Yelich had quite the Twitter conversation yesterday. Don't @ me, man,
Fantasy Corner
If you play fantasy baseball these are some of today's minor league stars that could have giant-sized impacts at the big league level next season, even if they are not on Opening Day rosters. If your league allows a farm system, draft these players.If not, make sure you grab one or two for your bench.
- Wander Franco, SS, Tampa Bay Rays
- Gavin Lux, SS, Los Angeles Dodgers
- Nico Hoerner, 2B, Chicago Cubs
- Jo Adell, OF, Los Angeles Angels
- Jared Kelenic, OF, Seattle Mariners
- Matt Manning, SP, Detroit Tigers
- Sean Murphy, C, Oakland A's
- Jesus Luzardo, SP, Oakland A's
- MacKenzie Gore, SP, San Diego Padres
- Luis Robert, OF, Chicago White Sox
Sleeper Pick: Brennen Davis, OF, Chicago Cubs. He's a fast-riser with five solid tools who could be a mid-season call-up, eventually taking over in centerfield, a position the Cubs desperately need to fill.
In Closing
Back in 1973 my dad wanted me to be one of the best little leaguers in my hometown. In 1972 I played for the Indians, and that summer I only got one hit, a triple, on a very cold and rainy April day when the left fielder slipped and fell chasing a routine fly ball. I finished the year 1-for-33 with 24 strikeouts and 17 walks. I had a few stolen bases. After my triple, I successfully stole home, but was called out because I did it illegally. The rule stated you couldn't leave the base until the pitcher released the ball. I was halfway down the third base line before he started his windup. Oh well.
The next summer my dad brought one of his clients to the house to be my personal batting coach for a day. In batting practice I would hit towering home runs, and my dad felt that when I faced live pitching I was pulling my head far too soon, taking my eye off the ball, which resulted in all those strikeouts. Dad thought I was trying to hit a home run with every at bat. He also believed that Cubs right fielder Jose Cardenal would be perfect to teach me how to be a gap-to-gap line drive hitter. After all, that's exactly what Cardenal was.
He was also a little goofy. After a good five hours of instruction in my backyard, I was ready for the big game the next day. I played for the Royals in 1973, and in our game against the Angels that Sunday afternoon I was confident I'd hit a couple of ringing doubles in the gap and become my team's best hitter. No such luck. I went 0-for-3 with three strikeouts, and finished my second season of Little League ball 6-for-54.
The next year I started playing hockey. I was much better at that, and dad was actually my coach. But I think I shattered his dreams of one day being the starting third baseman for the Chicago Cubs. Why? A lifetime batting average of .069 will kill any baseball career, no matter the level of play.
If you'd like to subscribe to my newsletter, the cost is $5 per month or an incredibly discounted price of $36 annually.
Annual Subscription Link
Monthly Subscription Link
Best,
Michael
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