The Ivy Covered Burial Ground: Sweet Fancy Moses!

I mean, what is this about? Flamingos, marlins. Will there be mermaids in the bleachers. Make way for the new Marlins.

A Manifesto of Sorts

Somehow I have been conditioned to be a Cubs fan. I grew up with the profound conviction that it was nearly impossible or at least a feat of some exceptional athletic prowess to throw a baseball accurately from third base or the hole at shortstop to first base. This odd belief was fostered no doubt by the great fuss Jack Brickhouse made when a Cub infielder actually succeeded in doing so and from the observation of Handsome Ransom Jackson and Roy Smalley, Cubs stalwarts of the era, who rarely succeeded in that endeavor. It was only when I began playing the game in earnest in sandlots and little league that I came to realize it was really not all that hard to do.

Another legacy of my youth was the observation fostered by my father, a lifelong fan, that every Cubs executive who followed William Veeck, Sr., Bill Veeck's father, was an utter nitwit, as were most of the managers they hired. In this opinion, he was not far from the truth, and I cherish it as one of the few useful bits of knowledge he passed on to me.

Anyway, like all fans, I can dream. And, I suppose, rant.

By the way, I owe the title of this blog a line in the Steve Goodman song, "Dying Cubs Fan's Last Request."

The Ivy Covered Burial Ground

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Sweet Fancy Moses!

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