100 Things Cubs Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die Read Online Free
Author: Jimmy Greenfield
as Mark Prior fell apart, Alex Gonzalez booted a ball and the Marlins buried the Cubs, imagine that’s what every fan in Wrigley Field did.
It takes your breath away to think about the hell Bartman went through that night and in the immediate aftermath. One moment he’s a tense Cubs fan on the edge of his seat, the next he’s getting death threats, has become the butt of jokes on late night TV, and is blamed for the Cubs not reaching the World Series.
There’s an urge to examine how complicit Bartman was in the Cubs’ collapse in Game 6, but to even explore that is an acknowledgment he shares more than cursory blame. Yes, he got his hand on the ball among many others reaching for it but, as has been pointed out countless times, the Cubs blew it on the field.
Prior ended up walking Castillo then gave up an RBI single to Ivan Rodriguez. A sharp but routine grounder was muffed by Gonzalez, who has escaped goathood all these years thanks to Bartman. If any single play was responsible for the Game 6 collapse it was Gonzalez’ error on what could have been an inning-ending double play.
Instead, the Marlins had the bases loaded with only one out and the next batter, Derrek Lee, hit a two-run double on Prior’s 119 th pitch to tie the game at 3–3. Only then did Cubs manager Dusty Baker, who some believe ruined Prior in 2003 by letting him throw too many pitches that year, take him out of the game.
Cubs reliever Kyle Farnsworth gave up Jeff Conine’s sacrifice fly and Mike Mordecai’s horrifying bases-loaded double that put the game out of reach. By that time, Bartman had long ago departed Section 4, Row 8, Seat 113, and was in protective custody with Wrigley Field security.
A good deal of Cubs fans became unhinged that night, making loud and public threats toward Bartman and embarrassing themselves in the process. Over time, public opinion has swayed in his favor and while his name is still synonymous with the incident he’d be more likely to receive cheers than boos if he were to make a public appearance at Wrigley Field.
There have been efforts over time to talk to Bartman, and I’ve been part of that group. In the spring of 2004, I was assigned by my editor to find and interview Bartman. By this time he had made it perfectly clear he had no intention of talking to anyone. But just a few months had passed, not years, and I thought maybe there was a chance. So I went down to his parent’s home in a suburb north of Chicago and rang the doorbell.
A woman I assumed to be his mother came to the door, and I introduced myself. She pursed her lips and without any hint of a smile let it be known I wasn’t going to be the exception to the no-interview rule. “Put it to sleep,” she told me. “We’ve had enough.”
Bless Steve Bartman for keeping quiet all these years. If there was a way to put the genie back in the bottle and give him his name back that would be the right thing to do. But that’s impossible.
Nobody will ever know what it’s like to be in his shoes. But you can at least try by sitting in his seat.
Steve Bartman’s Statement
The following was released by Steve Bartman on Wednesday, October 15, 2003:
“There are few words to describe how awful I feel and what I have experienced within these last 24 hours.
I’ve been a Cub fan all my life and fully understand the relationship between my actions and the outcome of the game. I had my eyes glued on the approaching ball the entire time and was so caught up in the moment that I did not even see Moises Alou, much less that he may have had a play.
Had I thought for one second that the ball was playable or had I seen Alou approaching I would have done whatever I could to get out of the way and give Alou a chance to make the catch.
To Moises Alou, the Chicago Cubs organization, Ron Santo, Ernie Banks, and Cub fans everywhere I am so truly sorry from the bottom of this Cubs fan’s broken heart.
I ask that Cub fans everywhere redirect the negative
It takes your breath away to think about the hell Bartman went through that night and in the immediate aftermath. One moment he’s a tense Cubs fan on the edge of his seat, the next he’s getting death threats, has become the butt of jokes on late night TV, and is blamed for the Cubs not reaching the World Series.
There’s an urge to examine how complicit Bartman was in the Cubs’ collapse in Game 6, but to even explore that is an acknowledgment he shares more than cursory blame. Yes, he got his hand on the ball among many others reaching for it but, as has been pointed out countless times, the Cubs blew it on the field.
Prior ended up walking Castillo then gave up an RBI single to Ivan Rodriguez. A sharp but routine grounder was muffed by Gonzalez, who has escaped goathood all these years thanks to Bartman. If any single play was responsible for the Game 6 collapse it was Gonzalez’ error on what could have been an inning-ending double play.
Instead, the Marlins had the bases loaded with only one out and the next batter, Derrek Lee, hit a two-run double on Prior’s 119 th pitch to tie the game at 3–3. Only then did Cubs manager Dusty Baker, who some believe ruined Prior in 2003 by letting him throw too many pitches that year, take him out of the game.
Cubs reliever Kyle Farnsworth gave up Jeff Conine’s sacrifice fly and Mike Mordecai’s horrifying bases-loaded double that put the game out of reach. By that time, Bartman had long ago departed Section 4, Row 8, Seat 113, and was in protective custody with Wrigley Field security.
A good deal of Cubs fans became unhinged that night, making loud and public threats toward Bartman and embarrassing themselves in the process. Over time, public opinion has swayed in his favor and while his name is still synonymous with the incident he’d be more likely to receive cheers than boos if he were to make a public appearance at Wrigley Field.
There have been efforts over time to talk to Bartman, and I’ve been part of that group. In the spring of 2004, I was assigned by my editor to find and interview Bartman. By this time he had made it perfectly clear he had no intention of talking to anyone. But just a few months had passed, not years, and I thought maybe there was a chance. So I went down to his parent’s home in a suburb north of Chicago and rang the doorbell.
A woman I assumed to be his mother came to the door, and I introduced myself. She pursed her lips and without any hint of a smile let it be known I wasn’t going to be the exception to the no-interview rule. “Put it to sleep,” she told me. “We’ve had enough.”
Bless Steve Bartman for keeping quiet all these years. If there was a way to put the genie back in the bottle and give him his name back that would be the right thing to do. But that’s impossible.
Nobody will ever know what it’s like to be in his shoes. But you can at least try by sitting in his seat.
Steve Bartman’s Statement
The following was released by Steve Bartman on Wednesday, October 15, 2003:
“There are few words to describe how awful I feel and what I have experienced within these last 24 hours.
I’ve been a Cub fan all my life and fully understand the relationship between my actions and the outcome of the game. I had my eyes glued on the approaching ball the entire time and was so caught up in the moment that I did not even see Moises Alou, much less that he may have had a play.
Had I thought for one second that the ball was playable or had I seen Alou approaching I would have done whatever I could to get out of the way and give Alou a chance to make the catch.
To Moises Alou, the Chicago Cubs organization, Ron Santo, Ernie Banks, and Cub fans everywhere I am so truly sorry from the bottom of this Cubs fan’s broken heart.
I ask that Cub fans everywhere redirect the negative
Readers choose
Janet Dailey
Patricia Puddle
David Zimmerman
Tracey Warr
Belle Chastain
James Lee Burke
Donna Richards
Dave Margoshes
Margaret Drabble
Rebecca Sherwin