By ROBERT RECTOR
“What did Jesus say to the Chicago Cubs on his last
day on earth? Don’t do anything ’til I get back.” Anonymous reference to the fact the
Cubs haven’t won the World Series in 102 years.
Ah, the baseball postseason.
The crack of the ball on bat, the roar of the
crowd. And if you’re at Dodger Stadium
the warm beer and cold hot dogs.
There’s a lot at stake in this contest between the Los
Angeles Dodgers and Chicago Cubs. A trip to the World Series. Civic pride. The hopes, dreams and
aspirations of millions of fans.
And in
Chicago, a chance to speak the name of their team without preceding it with
“long suffering.”
If we didn’t have enough mud-slinging going on in this
country, a couple of newspaper columnists have seized the opportunity to hurl
insults at one another.
“It’s Cubs vs. L.A., city of smog and failure,” said
the headline on a Chicago Tribune column by Rex Huppke. He also wrote
elegantly about other things, such the “the urine-soaked streets of the
Dodgers’ home city.”
It wasn’t long before Los Angeles Times columnist
Steve Lopez opined that “My guess is that on the day the L.A. put-down was
written, there were fewer than a half-dozen public officials indicted and no
blizzards in Chicago, so it was a slow news day.”
Amusing stuff.
But when it comes to whittling a town down to size, these guys are
flyweights compared to the heavyweight champ.
That would be the late Jim Murray, a Pulitzer Prize
winner from the Los Angeles Times and the best sports writer to ever lay hands
on a keyboard.
Here’s Murray on Cincinnati: “(People) don't have any
appreciation for what us truth-seekers go through on a road trip for the honor
and glory of baseball. For instance, you come into a city like Cincinnati at 3
o'clock in the morning.
“Now, if you have any sense, you don't want to be in
Cincinnati at all. Even in daylight, it doesn't look like a city. It looks like
it's in the midst of condemnation proceedings. If it was a human, they'd bury
it."
Also on Cincinnati: "They still haven't finished
the freeway . . . it's Kentucky's turn to use the cement mixer.”
And these travelogues:
"The only trouble with Spokane, Washington, as a city is that there's
nothing to do after 10 o’clock. In the morning. But it’s a nice place to go for
breakfast."
"[St. Louis] had a
bond issue recently and the local papers campaigned for it on a slogan,
'Progress or Decay,' and decay won in a landslide."
"Minneapolis and St.
Paul don't like each other very much and from what I could see I don't blame
either of them."
Murray called Louisville “Lousyville.” Pittsburgh was
"America's Slag Heap."
Philadelphia was a town that would “boo a cancer
cure."
Baltimore: "The weather is like the team. Gray.
Colorless. Drab. The climate would have to improve to be classified as merely
lousy. It would be a great place to stage 'Hamlet' but not baseball games. It
doesn't really rain, it just kind of leaks. You get a picture of Baltimore as a
guy just standing on a corner with no place to go and rain dropping off his hat.
Baltimore's a great place if you're a crab."
He also took shots at cities closer to home:
“You have to pay 50 cents
to go from Oakland to San Francisco. Coming to Oakland from San Francisco is
free."
"San Francisco is not so much a city as a
myth. It is in the United States but not of it. It is so civilized, it would
starve to death if it didn't get a salad or the right wine. It fancies itself
Camelot, but comes off more like Cleveland. Its legacy to the world is the
quiche."
"Palm Springs is an
inland sandbar man has wrestled from the rodents and the Indians to provide a
day camp for the over-privileged adults."
Reaction from cities was mixed. Cincinnati fans
protested Murray during the 1961 World Series with signs that mentioned him by
name.
In his state of the state address, Iowa's governor
rebuffed Murray’s comments that Iowans came to Los Angeles for the Rose Bowl
“in the family Winnebago with their pacemakers and the chicken salad."
Yet some cities longed for attention. A delegation of
citizens once greeted Murray upon his arrival in their city and begged him
repeatedly to "Knock Spokane!"
He could knock a few icons down to size as well.
UCLA Coach John Wooden was "so square, he was
divisible by four"; Rickey Henderson "has a strike zone the size of
Hitler's heart"; tennis is "a game in which love counts for nothing,
deuces are wild, and the scoring system was invented by Lewis Carroll."
“Arnold Palmer turned a golf round into Dempsey-Firpo.
A war. He didn't play a course. He invaded it. He looked and acted like an
athlete. He was strong enough to hit a ball out of the Pacific Ocean, and did.
He could go in the rough and smash a ball out of debris so thick that the ball,
chunks of rock, cans, bottles, a few squirrels, tree trunks and parts of old Volkswagens
would come flying out together. And most of them landed on the green."
A poet in the press box? You bet.
Robert Rector is a veteran of 50 years in
print journalism. He has worked at the San Francisco Examiner, Los Angeles
Herald Examiner, Valley News, Los Angeles Times and Pasadena Star-News. His
columns can be found at Robert-Rector@Blogspot.Com.