When Willie Came Through

In honor of the Cubs' home opener today at Wrigley Field, we revisit one of the club's most memorable openers from the past. It was 1969, and a pinch-hit homer by Willie Smith (in photo) turned likely defeat into a stirring victory. Smith's blow touched off an unforgettable and ultimately heartbreaking season for the Cubs. 


BY CHRISTOPHER TABBERT

WILLIE SMITH

     The first indelible moment in sports that I witnessed live and was old enough to remember occurred on April 8, 1969. It was Opening Day, and the Cubs had entered the season with high hopes for their first pennant in 24 years.
     Their manager was Leo Durocher, a salty old-timer who had taken over after one of the worst periods in the Cubs' history and immediately promised better days ahead. “This is not an eighth-place club,” he said, referring to the Cubs’ finish in 1965, and he was proven right when his 1966 team finished 10th. But the Cubs’ climb to respectability and beyond was swift and sure thereafter. With relative youngsters like Fergie Jenkins, Bill Hands, Glenn Beckert, Don Kessinger, and Randy Hundley jelling around the veteran nucleus of Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, and Ron Santo, the Cubs rose all the way to third in 1967 (improving by 28½ games) and finished third again in 1968.
     “The Cubs are now ready to go for all the marbles,” Durocher announced before the 1969 season.
     In the opener, an overflow crowd of 40,796 at Wrigley Field saw Banks crack two home runs as the Cubs built up a 5-1 lead over the Phillies in the early going. I raced home from school to catch the final innings, and turned on the TV in time to see Philadelphia’s rookie shortstop Don Money rap two homers of his own, a solo shot in the seventh and a three-run blast that tied the score in the top of the ninth. The game went into extra innings, and the Phillies took a one-run lead in the top of the 11th.
     With one out in the bottom of the 11th, Randy Hundley singled. Then Willie Smith stepped out of the dugout to pinch hit for Jim Hickman. Smith took Barry Lersch’s first pitch. He lined the second pitch into the right-field bleachers, and just like that the Cubs had won, 7-6.
     I was not quite eight years old, and this was about the most exciting thing I could have imagined. The great Vince Lloyd made a call on WGN radio that can still produce goosebumps: "The whole ballclub is down at home plate as the welcoming committee for Willie! They mob him at home plate!" For quite a while after that, Willie Smith was my favorite player.
     The Cubs breezed through April at 16-7 and sailed through May at 16-9. For three quarters of the season, they were the best team in the league, and the long-awaited pennant seemed almost a foregone conclusion. The last quarter of the season is best forgotten.

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

The Kid's in the Hall

SCOTTIE PIPPEN

     Would Michael Jordan have been a Hall of Famer without Scottie Pippen? Yes. Would Pippen have been a Hall of Famer without Jordan? We don’t know. What we do know is that they needed each other and the Bulls needed both to win their six world championships between 1991 and 1998.
     Pippen will go down in history as Jordan’s sidekick, but he was a high-wattage star in his own right. Any doubts about that should have been erased by Monday’s announcement of his election to the Basketball Hall of Fame in his first year of eligibility. “When you’re recognized as one of the greatest, it says a lot,” said Pippen. “This is something I never dreamed would happen to me as a walk-on at Central Arkansas.”
     When Bulls general manager Jerry Krause scouted Pippen at the obscure college, it was love at first sight.

“He came out and I said, ‘That’s the kid!’” Krause remembered.

“He had the longest arms I’d ever seen. That night, I got very excited.” But soon enough, the secret was out. By draft day, 1987, Krause was convinced that Pippen would not be available when the Bulls selected eighth in the first round. He engineered a trade with the Seattle SuperSonics that enabled him to move up three slots and get Pippen with the fifth pick in the first round.
     Krause never regretted it. Nor did he regret taking power forward Horace Grant with the tenth pick in the same draft. Pippen and Grant became fast friends off the court, and they teamed up on the court as an exceptionally athletic, rangy, and tenacious forward tandem that assistant coach Johnny Bach called the “Dobermans.” For Pippen, comparison to a greyhound might have been more apt. His loose limbs and long, loping strides allowed him to start and finish fast breaks with the best of them.
     With Pippen and Grant on board to complement Jordan, it was only a matter of time until the Bulls won the world championship. This they did in 1991, and again in 1992 and 1993.
     While Jordan was off playing baseball in 1993-94, Pippen emerged as unquestionably the Bulls’ leader and earned at least a share of the recognition he was due. He finished third in the Most Valuable Player balloting as the Bulls won 55 games, only two fewer than the year before. The Bulls swept the Cleveland Cavaliers in the first playoff series, then lost the conference semifinal series to the New York Knicks four games to three. If not for a phantom foul call on Pippen by referee Hue Hollins that all but decided the seventh game, the Bulls might well have advanced to the conference finals and beyond.
     The series against the Knicks also featured the infamous 1.8 seconds that Pippen would like to have back. In Game 3, he refused to return to the floor after a timeout because the play called for Toni Kukoc, rather than Pippen himself, to take the last-second shot. Thankfully, Kukoc made the shot and the Bulls won; otherwise Pippen might never have lived it down. “He understood he made a mistake and let his emotions get the better of him,” said teammate Bill Wennington, “and he told us. Then it was over.”
     After Jordan returned and Krause obtained Dennis Rodman to replace Grant, the Bulls won another three championships in 1996, 1997, and 1998, compiling a regular-season record of 203-43 (.825) and a playoff record of 45-13 (.776) in the process. In 1996, Pippen joined Jordan among the 50 Greatest Players in NBA History who were selected to celebrate the league’s 50th anniversary.
     Following the second “three-peat,” Jordan and head coach Phil Jackson retired (both eventually resurfaced elsewhere), Rodman was released, and Pippen was traded, clearing the way for Krause to embark on an ill-fated rebuilding plan.
     Pippen played one year for the Portland Trail Blazers and four for the Houston Rockets before finishing up with the Bulls in 2004. By the time he was through, Pippen had played in seven All-Star games, been named first-team All-NBA three times, and been named first-team All-Defensive team eight times. “The dunks were nice,” Krause said, “but I’ll always remember the defense. He could guard anybody.”

Splendid Seasons: Bulls MVPs

We're remembering the 19 Chicago athletes whose splendid seasons have earned them the Most Valuable Player award for their respective leagues. Only one of these players has represented the Bulls, but the player in question won the award five times.

Michael Jordan,
1988, 1991, 1992, 1996, 1998

     There isn't much to say that hasn’t already been said about the incomparable Michael Jordan. Other athletes have had exceptional physical talent, intelligence, or competitive fire—but few, if any, have so astonishingly combined all three. His impact on the Bulls and the NBA was incalculable. He was the 1990s' equivalent to Babe Ruth in the 1920s, instantly recognizable even to people who had never seen him play.
     Jordan was elected Most Valuable Player for the first time in 1988, after the young Bulls won 50 games to mark themselves as a team to be reckoned with in the future. It was no surprise that Jordan took home the award, considering that he was both the league's leading scorer and Defensive Player of the Year.
     When the Bulls won their first world championship in 1991, he won the MVP again. Interestingly, not a single teammate from Jordan’s rookie year of 1984-85 remained. The Bulls had been rebuilt from scratch around him. They reeled off three titles in a row, and the streak almost certainly would have continued for several more years had Jordan not retired in 1993, while still at the peak of his powers, after the shocking murder of his father, James.
     Playing for the White Sox’ Birmingham farm club, Jordan proved he was human—when it came to baseball. He soon returned to basketball, much to the regret of rival teams. In 1996, 1997, and 1998, he won his eighth, ninth, and tenth NBA scoring titles, played his usual ferocious defense, and led the Bulls to a second “three-peat” as world champions.
     “Coaching Michael,” said Bulls coach Phil Jackson, “is like coaching Michelangelo, genius at work.” Jordan is generally considered the greatest basketball player who ever lived, but he was also arguably the most valuable player in any team sport, ever. It would be hard to name another who could so thoroughly dominate a game both offensively and defensively.
     After Jordan stole the ball from Utah's Karl Malone and hit a jumper from the top of the key to seal the Bulls' sixth world championship in 1998, the losing coach gave his assessment of the man who had replaced him as the greatest player in Bulls history. “I think everybody knows how Jordan should be remembered,” Jerry Sloan said. “As the greatest player that has ever played.”
     Jordan appeared in the All-Star Game every year of his 13-year-career, was first-team All-NBA 10 times, first-team All-Defensive team nine times, and MVP of the NBA Finals six times. In addition to winning the regular-season MVP five times, he was runner-up three times. He was elected to the Hall of Fame in 2009.

Homecoming

In honor of the White Sox' season opener today at U.S. Cellular Field, we revisit one of the club's most memorable openers from the past, which took place an even 50 years ago.

MINNIE MINOSO

     On April 19, 1960, one of the most beloved Chicago ballplayers of all time celebrated his homecoming at Comiskey Park. His name was Orestes "Minnie" Minoso, and he had rejoined the the White Sox after two years in exile with the Cleveland Indians.
     Minoso had made his White Sox debut nine years earlier, after being acquired from those same Indians. When he took the field on May 1, 1951, Minoso became the first black player to appear in a major-league game for a Chicago team. “I’m the first guy to bat,” Minoso recalled many years later. “First pitch comes right over the plate and I hit a home run to center field. The people who wanted to boo me didn’t get a chance. But later they got a chance. The bases were loaded and I was playing third base. A ball bounced off the bag and hit my ankle, then went through my legs. I was charged with an error, and two runs scored. My first game on the White Sox I was at the top and then sunk to the bottom. Same day, good and bad.”
     As time went on, there was a lot more good than bad. In his first seven years, Minoso hit over .300 five times, knocked in 100 or more runs three times, and led the league in stolen bases three times. Minoso's aggressive style ignited the Go-Go White Sox, and he became the most popular player on the South Side. But then he was traded to Cleveland, and he missed the pennant year of 1959.
     When Minoso returned to the White Sox in 1960, he received a hero's welcome from a then-record opening-day crowd of 41,661 at Comiskey Park. Also in attendance were the Kansas City Athletics; it was the first time in the Sox' 60-year history that they opened a season against a team other than the Cleveland Indians, Detroit Tigers, or St. Louis Browns (when travel by train was the norm, the Midwestern clubs opened against one another, and the East Coast clubs did likewise).
     Minoso gave the throng its money's worth. A more eventful day would have been difficult to imagine.
     In the first inning, Minoso beat out a bunt for an apparent base hit but was called out for running outside the baseline; a lengthy rhubarb ensued. In the second, he hit a screaming liner and was robbed on a circus catch by Kansas City center fielder Bill Tuttle; he was credited with a sacrifice fly when Luis Aparicio scored on the play. In the fourth, Minoso hit a grand slam. In the fifth, he narrowly missed colliding with Aparicio as both men chased a pop fly; he dropped the ball for an error. In the seventh, he raced into the gap to spear a line drive that would have scored two runs. In the top of the ninth, with the score tied 9-9, he threw out a runner at the plate.
     The game was still tied when Minoso stepped into the batter's box to lead off the bottom of the ninth. He blasted a long home run into the left-center field bleachers, giving the Sox a 10-9 win.
     Minnie was back, as his two home runs, six runs batted in, two sensational defensive plays, and countless ovations from the crowd amply demonstrated. “I’m comfortable here,” he said after the game. “I was here before and I feel like this is my home.”
     And so it has remained for half a century more.

No Billy Goat to Blame



STAN MIKITA, KEN WHARRAM, DOUG MOHNS


     The Blackhawks have no billy goat to blame for their scarcity of championships, but they did have "The Curse of Muldoon." The story went like this: when the Hawks fired coach Pete Muldoon after the 1926-27 season, he raised his hands, rolled his eyes, and solemnly pronounced, “This team will never finish in first place.”
     In fact, the legend was invented by a Toronto newspaperman in the early forties. Nonetheless, it was also a fact that going into the 1966-67 season, their 41st in the league, the Hawks had never finished first—nor even come close until the past few years. Though laden with All-Stars like Hull, Stan Mikita, Pierre Pilote, Ken Wharram, and Glenn Hall, the Hawks hadn’t been able to get over the hump. They finished third in 1960-61, then stormed through the playoffs to win the Stanley Cup. They finished third twice more and second three times over the next five seasons. For all practical purposes, 1966-67 would be their last chance to overcome the imaginary curse, because it was the last season before the NHL expanded. If the Hawks were ever to finish first among the “original six” teams, it would have to be this year.
     The Hawks ran off a 15-game unbeaten streak early in the New Year to build up a substantial lead in the standings. Still, the skeptics could point to 1962-63, when the Hawks led all the way only to collapse in the last three weeks. But the Hawks kept winning, and finally, on the sunny Sunday afternoon of March 12, they had a chance to clinch the Prince of Wales Trophy (emblematic of the regular-season championship). The game against the Toronto Maple Leafs drew a capacity crowd to the Stadium and was televised throughout the United States and Canada—though not in the Chicago area.
     After killing off a two-man disadvantage early in the game, the Hawks drew first blood on a goal by Ken Hodge from Phil Esposito and Hull at 11:54 of the first period. Less than four minutes later, Hodge lit the lamp again, this time assisted by Esposito and Pat “Whitey” Stapleton. In the final minute of the period, Hodge, Stapleton, and Hull came driving out of their own zone. Hodge, on the right wing, sent the puck across to Stapleton, who carried it over the Toronto blue line and centered to Hull. The Golden Jet fired one of his patented slap shots from about 40 feet out. It sailed over goalie Terry Sawchuk’s right shoulder to give the Hawks a 3-0 lead.
     The Blackhawks’ first-period barrage had given Glenn Hall more than he needed, as he turned away 39 shots for a shutout. Lou Angotti scored twice in the third period for the final margin of 5-0. When the horn sounded, the fans showered the ice with hats, half-eaten hot dogs, paper cups, and rolled-up programs. The Hawks clomped downstairs to their dressing room for a well-earned celebration. Coach Billy Reay and general manager Tommy Ivan were thrown into the showers in their suits and ties. “I knew we were up for this one,” said Hodge as he wiped champagne from his eyes. “You could feel it before the game—everyone was raring to go. You’d have to be blind not to see it.”
     The 1966-67 Hawks were easily the class of the NHL, finishing 17 points ahead of the second-place Montreal Canadiens and scoring a then-record 264 goals while allowing only 170, lowest in the league. Mikita pulled off an unprecedented sweep by winning the Hart Trophy as most valuable player, the Art Ross Trophy as leading scorer, and the Lady Byng Trophy as most gentlemanly player. Hall and Denis DeJordy shared the Vezina Trophy for goaltending excellence.
     But when the Maple Leafs bounced the Hawks from the playoffs in the first round, Ivan decided that changes were in order. Hall was left unprotected in the expansion draft, while Esposito and Hodge were traded to Boston, where they won the Stanley Cup in 1970 and 1972.