Cubs Historic Photos: 16th In A Series

Was always one of my favorite guys. Leo wanted him to be a rah rah type of SS, but that was not his style. He still managed to satisfy Leo and showed real leadership on those 60’s – 70’s teams.

what type of sleeves the ump nor the fans in the bleachers are wearing, but I’ll take your word for it. Amazing detective work as usual. Really enjoying these photos. Thanks.

Those were the days.

in the basket by the top of the second inning.

Off-hand, does anyone know how many pitches that was?

I scrolled down as the page was still loading and for a split second the opening day clock read all zeros. Boy do I wish!

…although it certainly didn’t look that way on Opening Day. The weather was warm and sunny but the grandstand and bleachers were only half-full as a subdued crowd continued to trickle in on this April 12th, a day after tornadoes ripped through the Midwest, killing hundreds. As game time approached, the usual static could be heard over the PA system, as Pat Pieper got ready to address the crowd.

On this day, in addition to his standard introduction, Pat asked the crowd to observe a moment of silence, not only for the tornado victims, but also for the great Jack Quinlan who, of course, had been killed in a traffic accident only days before. When the game began, the Cardinals jumped out to a big lead for Bob Gibson, with Lou Brock at the center of the St. Louis rally – just one more element to add to a depressing atmosphere at Wrigley that would, in fact, carry all the way through 1965 for the Cubs.

Although Ernie said the Cubs would "Come Alive in ‘65," you always knew what a kidder he was and, even 45 years later, that line makes people smile. One look at the opening day roster was enough to tell you that this was a team destined to meet the Mets. Chock full of holdovers from the ninth-place ‘62 Cubs, along with veterans of the hope-filled season of ‘63 and the ex-Cardinals that came over in the Brock fiasco of ‘64, the Cubs appeared ready to break the 103-loss barrier set in ‘62. True, George Altman was back but, although the roster book said he was 32, he may have been a couple of years older, and clearly had been going downhill since ‘63.

The only new faces were minor league submariner and ex-Washington Senator Ted Abernathy and some guy named Beckert at second base. The stopgap at short, Roberto Pena, was supposed to be a utility man, but he was there only because the latest bonus bust, Don Kessinger, had proved unable to hit big league pitching in spring training. For fans, ‘65 was truly the worst of all the seasons among the Terrible Twenty from 1947 through ‘66, maybe not in terms of win-loss, but in terms of hopelessness. The team was simply unwatchable.

Things got so bad that by June, Kessinger was back. And, because Mario Mendoza was only 14, and presumably hitting above .200 in Chihuahua’s Babe Ruth league, Don soon had a lock on the bottom line of the Sunday averages. A natural shortstop and .200 hitter, Don could only hope to one day be almost as good as Ducky Schofield.

And then…. As the phone rang in that terra-cotta palace on Michigan Avenue, we can imagine the moment as Phil Wrigley responded to the light flashing on his intercom and heard his secretary say: "Sir, it’s a Mr. Durocher calling from California. He says its important, sir. But he’s calling collect…"