South Side Hit Men

BILL VEECK IN 1977

     “Don’t worry about doing a budget,” owner Bill Veeck told general manager Roland Hemond upon reacquiring the White Sox in 1976. “We don’t have any money.” The two soon unveiled their “rent-a-player” strategy for 1977. Using players who were in their last year before free agency—such as sluggers Richie Zisk and Oscar Gamble—or who were bargain-priced because of previous injuries, Veeck and Hemond transformed their hapless team into one of the most exciting in franchise history.
     Led by easy-going manager Bob Lemon, the White Sox became known as the South Side Hit Men and emerged as surprising contenders in the American League West Division. Their boisterous fans introduced two rituals that quickly caught on: dugout curtain calls after home runs and the serenading of departing enemy pitchers with “Nah-nah-nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah, hey hey, goodbye!”
     The high point of that memorable season came on Sunday, July 31. A lively crowd of 50,412 turned out for a sun-drenched doubleheader with the defending division-champion Kansas City Royals. In the first game, Kansas City’s Marty Pattin led 1-0 and held the Sox hitless until Chet Lemon homered in the bottom of the sixth. A homer by Amos Otis the next inning gave the Royals a 2-1 lead, which they held until the bottom of the ninth. With one out, Alan Bannister reached on a two-base error. Jorge Orta’s single to right scored Bannister and sent the game into extra innings.
     White Sox starter Steve Stone retired the first two Royal hitters in the top of the 10th before issuing back-to-back walks to George Brett and Joe Lahoud. Stone headed for the showers, and successive singles by Cookie Rojas and Al Cowens scored Brett, then Lahoud. Further damage was narrowly averted when first baseman Jim Spencer speared a line drive off the bat of John Mayberry for the third out.
     With the Sox now trailing 4-2, Spencer led off the bottom of the 10th with a single to left. Royals manager Whitey Herzog summoned righthander Doug Bird to face Chet Lemon, whose homer had tied the game earlier. This time, Lemon fell behind in the count 0-and-2, then socked a long home run into the center-field bleachers, again tying the score and sending the crowd into a frenzy. This occasioned another of the curtain calls that opponents found so annoying. “It’s bush [league] what they do,” Hal McRae declared. “It’s a disgrace to baseball.” After the commotion had died down, Eric Soderholm coaxed a walk, reached second on a sacrifice bunt by Brian Downing, and scored on a base hit by Ralph Garr.
     The stirring 5-4 win was the ninth in the White Sox’ past 10 games. It put them 25 games over .500, at 62-37, and 6½ games in front of the second-place Royals. “If we’re all dreaming,” said Stone, “I hope we don’t wake up.”
     The second game was also quite eventful. The teams exchanged several knockdown pitches, and as umpire Art Frantz informed them that no further shenanigans would be tolerated on the field, a fight broke out in the stands near the press box. The one-legged, 63-year-old Veeck waded into the fray to act as peacemaker and came away with a bloody lip. “It’s a hot day,” he said cheerfully, “but all I’ve had is iced tea.” Most of the fans, of course, had quenched their thirst with something stronger.
     A good time was had by all, but the White Sox lost the second game 8-4. “We took three out of four [for the series],” said Zisk. “I’ll take it.” As July gave way to August, the White Sox and the equally unlikely Cubs were both in first place. Unfortunately, neither was able to go the distance. The Cubs dropped out of first place a week into August and faded fast thereafter to finish 20 games out. The Sox held on a while longer, occupying first place until August 19, but eventually finished 12 games behind the Royals. Still, the South Side Hit Men won 90 games and set a new franchise attendance record.
     Veeck’s second stint with the White Sox featured softball-style uniforms with untucked shirts and no stirrups, a shower in the center-field bleachers, and the infamous Disco Demolition Night in 1979 which forced the Sox to forfeit a game. It was fun while it lasted, but Veeck’s shoestring operation was on borrowed time. Veeck sold the Sox in 1981 and never set foot in Comiskey Park again. He became a regular in the center-field bleachers at Wrigley Field, perched between the ivy he himself had planted and the scoreboard he had built while working for the Cubs in the thirties.

Reprinted from Heydays: Great Stories in Chicago Sports
(c) 2009, 2010 by Christopher Tabbert

Bob Probert, 1965 - 2010



BOB PROBERT

      Bob Probert, who passed away earlier this month, reigned as the heavyweight champion of the NHL for 16 years.
     “He was the toughest guy I've ever seen,” Tim Sassone wrote, “not to mention the best and scariest fighter of his generation, maybe ever.”
     At six-foot-three and 225 pounds, Probert was an enforcer but not a goon; he was a skilled skater and scorer who accumulated 163 goals and 221 assists in his career—along with 3,300 penalty minutes. He was an All-Star for Detroit in 1987-88 when he logged 29 goals and 33 assists, then added 21 more points in 16 playoff games.
     Probert played for Detroit from 1985 through 1994. Finally, the Red Wings tired of his recurring problems with alcohol and cocaine and cut him loose. After serving a year-long suspension for violating the league’s substance-abuse policy, Probert joined the Blackhawks in 1995 and played for them until his retirement in 2002. Although his best days were behind him, Probert gave the Hawks all he had in every game. He also stayed sober the entire time.
     As had been the case in Detroit, Chicago players and fans discovered that there was more to Probert than met the eye. “Just a big teddy bear,” said teammate Doug Gilmour. “Off the ice, he was soft-spoken, laughed, smiled. But when he put a helmet on and would go on the ice, he was a fierce competitor. When you were playing against him, you’re intimidated. Then you get to meet him in person (our families hung around each other in Chicago as neighbors), and you get to see another side. I think everybody would say the same thing—he was a gentle giant. He cared about people. He cared about his team and, obviously, his family. We all loved him.”
     Probert spent more time in the penalty box than all but four other players in NHL history. The most memorable of his hundreds of fights was a 1994 bout against Marty McSorley, who is one of the four. Probert, still with Detroit at the time, and McSorley of the Pittsburgh Penguins swapped punches for one minute and 44 seconds. After the linesmen finally stepped in, McSorley leaned forward and tapped his forehead against Probert’s. Probert reached up and affectionately tousled McSorley’s hair.
     As the most renowned fighter in the NHL, Probert was expected to take on the other contenders and pretenders around the league on a nightly basis. “Probert hated preseason games,” Sassone wrote, “because that's when the young up-and-coming fighters always would want to test themselves against the best. Probert would oblige the kids and drop the gloves, giving them a story to tell.”
     There must have been countless nights when Probert wasn’t in the mood to square off against every would-be tough guy who came along. But he did that dirty job uncomplainingly, and he never trash-talked or otherwise sought to embarrass the opponents whom he fought and usually vanquished. He was, as McSorley said admiringly, “an honest man.”

Class of 2010

ANDRE DAWSON

     Andre Dawson was inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame yesterday, and in accepting this honor of a lifetime he showed the same dignity, humility, maturity, and gratitude that were constants throughout his 21-year playing career. You can boil it all down to one word: class.
     Dawson broke in with the Montreal Expos as the prototypical five-tool player who could hit for average, hit for power, and run, field, and throw with the best of them. A succession of knee injuries eventually compromised his speed, but nothing ever compromised his furious desire to succeed. Dawson was the National League's Rookie of the Year for Montreal in 1977 and Most Valuable Player for the Cubs in 1987. He was an eight-time All-Star, won eight Gold Gloves, and underwent 12 knee surgeries. “No player in baseball history worked harder, suffered more, or did it better than Andre Dawson,” said teammate Ryne Sandberg, himself a Hall of Famer. “He's the best I've ever seen.”
     Dawson was a true professional who, as they say, played the game the right way. He played hurt, always hustled, never showed anyone up. He didn't boast when he was going good and he didn't make excuses when he was going bad.
     There has been much discussion of the fact that Dawson's Hall of Fame plaque depicts him in a Montreal cap, and Dawson himself expressed some disappointment at not being portrayed in a Cubs cap. “I don't feel a sense of loyalty to either one of those organizations,” said Dawson. “I left both organizations on bitter terms. My love affair was with the Chicago Cub fans. That's why I would prefer to put a Cubs cap on, to represent those fans.”
     A nice sentiment, to be sure, but after all Dawson played 11 years for Montreal and only six for the Cubs, so the decision was pretty clear-cut to Hall of Fame President Jeff Idelson. It also in no way diminishes Dawson's achievements as a Cub or the esteem in which he is held by Cub fans. If it is true--as has been reported--that the Cubs have decided not to retire Dawson's uniform number because of the Expos' cap on his plaque, they should be ashamed of themselves. Either Dawson deserves the honor or he doesn't, but it's hard to see how a picture on a plaque would tilt that equation either way.
     If the Cubs really are pondering whether to retire Dawson's number, they might want to think too about Gabby Hartnett, a Hall of Famer who played 19 years for the Cubs--during which time they won four pennants, one with Hartnett as National League MVP and another with him as player/manager. He was by consensus the greatest catcher in N.L. history prior to 1950.

Bill James's Greatest Chicago Players

EDDIE COLLINS

     Bill James and his fellow sabermetricians--so named after the Society for American Baseball Research (SABR), through which they operate--seek to go beyond the traditional figures that have populated the sports pages for more than a century (batting average, home runs, runs batted in, wins, strikeouts, and earned-run average), in order to measure every aspect of a player's performance and value.
     Their work leads inevitably to the ranking of players, which is always interesting, often controversial, and sometimes changes considerably over time (for example, Ernie Banks was ranked 40th in an early version of James's list of the greatest players of all time, but has since slipped to 77th). The rankings have made James's books best sellers and are surefire conversation starters.
     The best Chicago player of all time, according to James, was Eddie Collins. "Collins is described by various sources," James wrote, "as the best bunter in the history of baseball, the best hit-and-run man in the history of baseball, the best defensive second baseman in the history of baseball, the best sign-stealer who ever lived, and the greatest World Series star who ever lived. Kid Gleason, who managed Collins on the White Sox, said that Collins was the greatest team player who ever lived. Connie Mack [who managed Collins with the Athletics] said that Collins was the greatest team player who ever lived."
     Below is a list of all the Chicago players in James's most recent top 100. (Note that some of them played only briefly in Chicago, and therefore earned their ranking elsewhere.) Notable by his absence from this list is Sammy Sosa, whose steroid-tainted career remains difficult to evaluate at present.

18. Eddie Collins, White Sox 1915-1926

20. Grover Alexander, Cubs 1918-1926

22. Rogers Hornsby, Cubs 1929-1932

29. Jimmie Foxx, Cubs 1942, 1944

38. Tom Seaver, White Sox 1984-1986

58. Ryne Sandberg, Cubs 1982-1994, 1996-1997

66. Joe Jackson, White Sox 1916-1920

71. Al Simmons, White Sox 1933-1935

73. Ken Griffey Jr., White Sox 2008

75. Frank Thomas, White Sox 1990-2005

77. Ernie Banks, Cubs 1953-1971

78. Steve Carlton, White Sox 1986

80. Roberto Alomar, White Sox 2003-2004

81. Tim Raines, White Sox 1991-1995

83. Mordecai Brown, Cubs 1904-1912, 1916

85. Minnie Minoso, White Sox 1951-1957, 1960-1961, 1964

87. Ron Santo, Cubs 1960-1973; White Sox 1974

92. Greg Maddux, Cubs 1986-1992, 2004-2006

96. Robin Roberts, Cubs 1966

97. Carlton Fisk, White Sox, 1981-1993

100. Billy Williams, Cubs 1959-1974

Once and Future Kings

ARNOLD PALMER

     The man who had dominated professional golf for the past five years and the man who would dominate the game for the next two decades were already well acquainted when they met in the 1963 Western Open at Beverly Country Club on the South Side. When Arnold Palmer won the 1960 U.S. Open, Jack Nicklaus had been runner-up; in Nicklaus’s 1962 Open win, he had defeated Palmer in a playoff.
     The 33-year-old Palmer had won seven major championships. Though he was 10 years younger, Nicklaus had already won five majors, including the Masters three months before and the PGA just a week before the Western.
     Nicklaus was poised to surpass Palmer as the best player in the world, but not yet as the most popular. At every tournament Palmer was trailed by huge and demonstrative galleries, known collectively as “Arnie’s Army.” The crowds at Beverly were no exception; they politely applauded such luminaries as Nicklaus, Sam Snead, and Julius Boros, but they reserved their most effusive responses for Palmer. When Palmer four-putted the 15th green in the first round, it seemed to knock the wind out of every member of his army.
     They were breathing easier within the ranks when Palmer shot 67 in the third round to surge into a tie for the lead. Arnie capped his sensational back nine of 31 by sinking a 20-foot putt to birdie the mammoth 596-yard 18th. Nicklaus’s 71 left him seven strokes behind.
     Sunday belonged to Nicklaus. “I thought I might have a good chance,” he said, “if I did a 65 today.” He didn’t—but his 66 was the best round of the tournament, punctuated by a six-foot birdie putt on 18 that drew him even with Boros at four-under 280 for the 72 holes. Palmer struggled to a 73 for the day, giving him 280 for the tournament as well.
     For the first time in the Western’s 60-year history, three players had tied for the championship. Palmer, Nicklaus, and Boros came back on Monday to settle the issue in an 18-hole playoff.
     Much to the delight of his army, Palmer required only 33 strokes to complete the front nine, while Boros and Nicklaus took 36 and 37, respectively. But things tightened up on the back nine. After 15 holes, Palmer and Boros were deadlocked at two-under 57, with Nicklaus at even-par 59. On 16, Nicklaus missed a chance for birdie from six feet out, and the three players went to 17 with the status quo intact.
     The 17th hole was a nasty 210-yard par three with a sloping green shielded by an array of bunkers. It had separated the contenders from the pretenders all weekend, and it proved decisive in the playoff as well. Boros’s tee shot landed in the rough behind the green, Palmer’s in a bunker in front. Nicklaus struck a near-perfect shot that plopped onto the green, then rolled to within five feet of the cup.
     Boros’s chip from the rough and Palmer’s blast from the sand each ended up 35 to 40 feet from the hole. Both putted to within three feet. Now it was Nicklaus’s turn to putt. If he made it, he would go to 18 no worse than tied for the lead. But he went for it too aggressively, and the ball skittered past the hole.
     Palmer made his next putt. Boros missed, and Nicklaus missed again. They went to 18 with Palmer leading Boros by one and Nicklaus by two. Nicklaus banged his third shot over the green and into the crowd; he took a bogey six. Boros missed his birdie try from 10 feet out, and Palmer tapped in for par to claim the championship.
     The win placed Palmer’s earnings for the year at $96,955—a new record. It also gave him a bit of revenge for his playoff losses to Nicklaus and Boros, respectively, in the previous two U.S. Opens. Nicklaus, of course, would be heard from again.

Reprinted from Heydays: Great Stories in Chicago Sports
(c) 2009, 2010 by Christopher Tabbert