In what was both her debut and swan song, Dutchie Caray did a splendid job of carrying tradition and a tune. But what’s fair is fair.
Her Friday rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” was the short form, compared with the version once warbled by her dear and departed husband, Harry, who routinely begged for help during the seventh-inning stretch.
Why, an entire generation of fans grew up believing the hymn ended with, “Let’s Get Some Runs!!” Harry loved schtick, but he also checked the scoreboard and standings.
However, pleading was unnecessary Friday at Wrigley Field. On the same afternoon when the Dow Jones industrials teased 9,000 and Mark Grace stole a base, the Cubs positively catapulted two games over the .500 mark by squashing the Montreal Expos 6-2.
Saturday, with Ernie Banks conducting, the Cubs hummed to a 3-1 triumph. When they managed their fourth victory a year ago, they were already 9 1/2 games out of first place, and it was April 26. So until it’s appropriate to dabble in magic numbers, perhaps progress should be measured: The 1998 team is 22 days ahead of the 1997 train wreck.
Now if Cub starters can just get to the second or third inning, the bats and the bullpen will take care of the rest.
It was colder than an editor’s heart Friday, yet the park exuded warmth for the departed legend. Signs, pins and patches were prevalent, plus bedsheets wishing well to Jack Brickhouse, another giant who, having worked both sides of town, witnessed more grim baseball than any man alive.
Brickhouse really deserves to throw out the first pitch before the Cubs seize their next World Series title, but even if you adhere to the 90-year-cycle theory, that gives Jack until October to rehabilitate from his illness.
“Watch out, we have a good club here,” said Grace, the Cubs’ unquestioned leader who should break a toe more often. In the fourth inning Friday, he took off and actually beat the throw to second. He could have asked that the base be uprooted and bronzed, but it was Harry’s day.
And a tasteful one at that. The Cubs could continue to profit from his death, as they filled their pockets when he was with us, but from the moment Harry’s caricature was unveiled to frame the booth he energized, it seemed evident that his absence had evoked thought and a concern to defer to Dutchie about what felt proper.
“Whatever they do to honor Harry isn’t enough,” Grace went on. “He was that big, still is. But it wouldn’t be right if they got tacky, either. He’d approve so far.”
Grace, one of Harry’s favorites, scored Friday’s first run when Mark Grudzielanek, a solid shortstop, succumbed to a shaky idea and threw wildly instead of eating Kevin Orie’s infield single. Soon it was 6-1, top of the seventh.
The frozen customers stood and chanted “Har-ry! Har-ry!” while awaiting Dutchie. But remember, these are the Cubs. Sammy Sosa dropped a fly ball, then Ryan McGuire walked before Grudzielanek, whose name surely would have twisted Harry’s tongue, bounced out, second to first to upstairs.
Well, we finally found a Caray who can sing. When Dutchie finished, she was twice embraced by Chip. If the most forgiving fans in sports sincerely wish to salute Harry, they should let his grandson be his professional self. Unless he dares applaud guest vocalist Pete Vonachen Sunday.
“When Harry hears me,” mused Harry’s best pal, “he might really come down from heaven and say, `Enough of this.’ “
The baseball business ails. The Expos, with a payroll dwarfed by Baltimore’s, are one nay stadium vote away from leaving a world-class city. Cubs President Andy MacPhail oversaw two championships in small-market Minnesota. But the disparity then was 2-to-1, not $71 million to $9 million.
The Cubs can spend, if this April levity turns serious come August. Meanwhile, we’re thinking of you up there, Harry. Not even you were alive when the Cubs whipped Detroit in the 1908 Fall Classic.
And by the way, Harry, send us some spring. Or have you already exhausted El Nino over dinner and drinks?
