She came waddling into my office, a heavy, jowled woman who had to weigh at least 250 pounds.
To my amazement, she stood in front of my desk, opened her mouth wide and began singing in an ear-shattering soprano voice.
”You looooose,” she sang. ”You lose, it`s over, it`s all over, the end has come, doom, doom, doom, gloom, gloom, gloom. . . .”
I jumped up and demanded to know who she was and why she was in my office.
”That should be obvious,” she said. ”You have heard the expression:
`It is never over until the fat lady sings.` Well, I am that fat lady, and I am here to sing because it is over for the Cubs.”
Nonsense. That is just a figure of speech, baseball mythology. There is no such creature as the fat lady who sings when it is over.
”Do you want to pinch me to see if I am real.”
No thank you. I`m happily wed.
”Then I`ll continue my song.”
Please, no, I think you`ve made your point. So you are real after all. Well, it is no pleasure to meet you.
”The feeling is mutual. Are you sure you don`t want me to sing?”
No, but I`d appreciate your answering a few questions.
”I seldom grant interviews, but go ahead.”
Tell me, why do you make it a practice of singing in Chicago?
”Don`t be so paranoid. Do you think you are the only city I sing in?
Why, I was just in Toronto, and I sang for them. And before that I sang in Montreal, New York, St. Louis, Baltimore, Milwaukee. Why, I even sang in your town back in September, when it was over for your poor White Sox. Keep that in mind. Before it is all over, I sing for 25 teams-all but the one team that wins.”
Yes, I understand that, although it is of little consolation at this moment.
”But it should be. Sometime next week, I will be singing in either Frisco or Oakland because it will be over in one of those cities. And the wretches in the city I sing in will be just as gloom-filled as you are at this moment. Believe me, it always happens. The losing fans, whether they be for Oakland or Frisco, can talk about what a great season they had, just getting as far as they did. But then they go in the other room and weep. Especially in Frisco.”
Fat lady who sings, what you say is true. But the hard fact remains, you have been singing your sad song for Cub fans longer and more frequently than for anyone else. It is obviously discriminatory, and I would appreciate an explanation.
”Well, there is your image as lovable losers. I`m sure you have read that description in many a sports column written by sports experts, some of whom have IQs greater than that of a chipmunk. Don`t you wish to maintain that image?”
First of all, we are not lovable. We are a mean, tough, hard-nosed city. This is the city that gave the world Butkus, Ditka, Capone, the original Mayor Daley and, in modesty, me. It is Frisco that is cuddly and lovable. We are like Cleveland and New York and Detroit, not Frisco and San Diego and other municipal delicacies. When we get tattos, they are on our arms, not on our buttocks. We punch first and talk later. In Frisco, they dance first and kiss later, a terrible sight to behold. So forget that lovable, cuddly stuff. We do not enjoy losing.
”All right, then I will be blunt. Do you remember the year the Brooklyn Dodgers signed Jackie Robinson?”
Of course. It was 1947.
”And when did they sign Roy Campanella? And when did Cleveland sign Larry Doby?”
That was 1948. And the next year the Dodgers also signed big Don Newcombe, the pitcher. And Cleveland signed Satch Paige. And before long the New York Giants had Monte Irvin and Willie Mays and Cleveland had Luke Easter. ”Do you see a pattern?”
Now that you mention it, yes. But in 1954 the Cubs did sign Gene Baker and Ernie Banks.
”Yes, it took them seven long years after Jackie Robinson, Campanella, Doby, Irvin and all those others had become great stars and their teams winners to wake up and smell the chitlins.”
Well, maybe old P.K. Wrigley was afraid a black player might marry his daughter.
”Whatever the reason, imagine what teams the Cubs would have had in the
`50s and `60s if they had alertly tapped the pool of fine black players in the old Negro League.”
You would not have been singing in Chicago?
”Not nearly as often. Wrigley`s fondness for pink-cheeked bumblers gave you the disastrous `50s and `60s.”
But what about the `70s.
”By then losing was a habit. But it is changing, so be patient. Your day will come. I`ll still be singing in Seattle before I sing in Chicago again.” Thank you, it has been a pleasant experience.
”You`re welcome, and now I must waddle off for my next performance.”
Where will you sing next?
”Frisco, I`m sure. And it is only fitting, since that is a city of sopranos.”
