Skip to main content

Wrigley Field 100

Wrigley Field, Chicago
On April 23, 2015 Chicago Cubs fans will celebrate 101 years of Wrigley Field, could this be 'next year'? Click to see video on YouTube.

During the dog-days of summer baseball fans come to the stark realization their team has been mathematically eliminated from the pennant race. And the chant begins again, “Wait till next year.” Cub fans have been waiting since 1908. Yes, believe it, 1908 was when the Cubs won their last World Series. Way before television, long before radio, and by a fluke of what baseball fanatics call Merkle’s Boner.

For those not familiar with the story, now that I think of it, not many people I know today were there to witness the twist of fate that allowed the Cubs the opportunity to win the National League Pennant that year then the World Series.

The heated race for the Pennant came down to the Cubs vs the New York Giants.

It was the bottom of the ninth, with two men out, two men on base, and the score tied one-to-one, veteran Giant pinch-hitter Moose McCormick was on third, representing the winning run.

Fred Merkle was the runner on first.

Giant shortstop, Al Bridwell, hit a single. At the crack of the bat Fred Merkle headed for second. Moose McCormick lumbered home. The Giants had apparently won the game 2-1.

Giant fans poured onto the field in elation. Alarmed by the crowd bering down on him, and convinced the game was over, Merkle did not touch second, and ran straight to the clubhouse. However, the rules state that since Merkle did not touch second if Cubs second baseman, Johnny Evers, who saw the situation unfold, could get the ball, touch second, then Merkle would be out. Bridwell’s winning run would be canceled by the force-out. The Cubs would have a chance.

Sounds simple enough, but the “winning” ball had been tossed into the stands. A fan in a brown bowler caught it and started home with his trophy. Two Cubs chased the man through the raucous crowd, knocked him down, grabbed the ball, threw it to Joe Tinker, who relayed it to Evers at second. 

Merkle was out.

Both teams now claimed victory. It took Harry Pulliam, the league president, a full week to disallow the Giant run and declare the game a tie, to force a replay if the two teams were deadlocked for the season. As fate would have it they were.

The Cubs went on to win the pennant from the Giants that year and then swept the Detroit Tigers in four games to win the 1908 World Series.

According to Tyler Poslosky from Bleacherreport.com, “Since winning back-to-back titles in 1907-08, the Cubs appeared in the World Series seven times over the next 37 years, losing all of them.”

Poslosky records, “In 1910, the Cubs lost 4-1 to the then-Philadelphia Athletics. In 1918, the Cubs fell to the Boston Red Sox 4-1. Philadelphia got the best of Chicago a second time in the 1929 World Series, winning 4-1. In 1932, the New York Yankees swept the Cubs, 4-0. Three years later, Detroit got revenge, winning 4-2. In the 1938 series, the Yankees triumphed again with another four-game sweep of the Cubs. And in 1945, the Cubs lost to the Tigers in seven games.”

So let me ask you this, with Wrigley field turning 100 what quirk of fate will break the loosing streak and reveal this years winner? Is it the magic, or curse of baseball? With 162 games to be played what will the defining game be that turns everything around for the team? I’m convinced this is what keeps loyal baseball fans coming back to stadiums like Wrigley year after year.

This could be next year for the Cubbies!

Let’s wait and see . . .

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

The Compass of Cuba: Mom

🎄  Preview of this week's  On the Fly  blog: A Holiday Tribute to Mom. As the holidays hustle with pixels and beeps, the world scrolls along in a smartphone-y sleep. I log off for a moment—just one little minute— To breathe in the past and to sit myself in it. My mind doesn’t wander to faraway places, Or trips full of tickets and new airport faces. Instead, it drifts backward, as memories do, to Cuba, Illinois, where the best moments grew. To a home full of warmth, in the wintry Midwest, Where my mother—dear “Marcie”—put love to the test. With a smile that could melt the most frigid of dawns, and hugs that hung on you like shivering fawns. She came from La Rochelle in France, brave and bright, Across oceans and war shadows, into new light. A town full of strangers soon felt like her own, And her courage built up the foundation of home. “Oh yes, we know Marcie!” the locals would say— “It's Doc Ball’s French lady! She brightens the day!” She cleaned, and she cooked, and sh...

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

Patience: the Only First-Class Ticket

In this episode, Patience: the Only First-Class Ticket They say travel broadens the mind. After eight days sailing the Rhône with 140 fellow luxury vacationers, I can confirm it also tests patience , calf strength, buffet strategy, and one's tolerance for people furious that France insists on being French. Don't get me wrong—I adored this trip. The river shimmered like liquid optimism. The villages looked hand-painted. The pastries could negotiate world peace. But somewhere between Ship Horn Hello and Bon Voyage, we'd inadvertently boarded a floating behavioral research study disguised as a holiday. Our ship was less a cruise and more a ferry for the Sailors of Status. Some passengers approached relaxation like yogis. Others treated leisure like a final exam with extra credit. I came to believe certain luxury watches emit ultrasonic signals that only their owners can detect. A frequency calibrated to trigger rapid movement toward any line forming for any reason. I saw more ...

Up the Rhône

Up the Rhône by Patrick Ball We booked a fine cruise up the Rhône — what a treat! With iPhones, lanyards, and schedules so neat. They promised us peace and a mind that would mend, But each calm beginning had chores at the end! "Now breakfast at seven! At eight, take the view!" At nine, there's a lecture on ' What Tourists Do!' At noon, there's a tasting (you must love the cheese), Then hurry to nap time — as corporate decrees! I followed that plan till my patience ran dry. The Rhône softly chuckled, "Oh my, oh my, my! You've missed half my sparkles, my ripples, my tone— You're busy pretending you've peacefully grown!" So I fired my planner and banished my clock. I tossed my agenda right off the dock! I let the wind tickle my schedule away, and drifted through hours that danced where they may. I chatted with swans, had no notion of when, I'd nibble, or nap, or go roaming again. No Wi-Fi! No meetings! No planning! No fuss! Just me and ...