Fat Guys Shouldn't Be Dancin' at Halftime: An Irreverent Romp through Chicago Sports
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Fat Guys Shouldn't Be Dancin' at Halftime: An Irreverent Romp through Chicago Sports
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781623687090 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Triumph Books |
| Publication date: | 09/01/2009 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 304 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
Chet Coppock is an Emmy award-winning sports broadcaster and radio host who has worked in the Chicago sports scene for more than 40 years.
Read an Excerpt
Fat Guys Shouldn't Be Dancin' at Halftime
An Irreverent Romp Through Chicago Sports
By Chet Coppock
Triumph Books
Copyright © 2009 Chet CoppockAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-62368-709-0
CHAPTER 1
GRIDIRON Grumblings
1 Chicago, table the addiction to the 1985 CHICAGO BEARS
"Probably the most bizarre, outlandish request we got during the '85 season was when a women's magazine called and wanted to do a feature on William Perry and the possibility of male pregnancy."
— Kenny Valdiserri, former P.R. chief for the Bears
I know I'm going to break a few hearts with this pitch. Women, feel no shame in crying, but this is six, maybe eight years overdue. Chicago, the time has come to give up the "addiction" to the most raucous, outrageous, flamboyant, defiant collection of football rogues ever assembled under one tent, the mercurial Super Bowl XX Champion Bears.
Speaking of which, by XX standards, the Bears bumped off the New England Patriots 46 — 10 on an undercard that featured the French army beating Spain in the unforgettable Battle of Cerignola. It goes without saying that most of you know Cerignola began as a bitter dispute over Olympic drug testing and TV rights to Friday Night SmackDown.
No, you don't have to go cold turkey. This isn't Betty Ford Med Center for the rich and famous.
The next time the Bears advance to the NFC Championship Game, you may remind yourself that somehow, Michael McCaskey, the hunky president of the Bears, was chosen Sporting News NFL Executive of the Year in '85. Michael sneaked off with the hardware while Mike Ditka and Buddy Ryan beat each other up all the way to the Vince Lombardi Trophy.
McCaskey? NFL Executive of the Year? You talk about a hometown squeeze. That still rates as the biggest local fix since "Mooney" Giancana and his delightful throng of mob head-busters put Cook County in the John F. Kennedy column in November 1960, when JFK edged Richard Nixon.
Here's my game plan, and I expect full bipartisan support.
Henceforth, and forever, no Bears pass rusher will be compared to Richard Dent.
No left tackle will be mentioned in the same breath with Jimbo Covert until he competes in three Pro Bowls.
When the Bears come up with a three-and-out, no references will be made to Wilber Marshall's 52-yard run to the house off a fumble recovery against the Los Angeles Rams in the NFC Championship Game victory that catapulted the Bears to New Orleans.
Are you getting in rhythm?
By law, Jeff Joniak, the Bears' hometown screamer, will not be permitted to shriek "Bob Babich, you are ridiculous."
Recollections of the banner year will cease — except on Fridays. A 20-minute window will be allowed for fans to recall the Bears creaming Dallas 44 — 0 during the '85 regular season. I do that only for sentimental reasons: I had the Bears and the over.
The misdirection play: The Honey Bears will be hauled out of storage while Staley, the Bears' hopeless mascot, will be instructed to begin walking west on Roosevelt Road until he reaches either Moline or Muscatine, Iowa.
We will put the lid on early season euphoria. No talking about "This is speedy Willie and I'm world-class ... I like running, but I love to get the pass" when the Bears come surging out of the blocks 1 — 0.
Know what I mean? Go back to September 7, 2008. The Bears, led by Matt Forte's 123 rushing yards, clobbered the Indy Colts 29 — 13. By 11:00 that night, Forte was the second coming of Walter Payton.
It didn't matter that the Colts were pathetically banged up or that Peyton Manning had about three hours of practice time during the preseason, these 2008 Bears were a lock to go no worse than 14 — 2. The next morning, you couldn't ride a 151 bus or the Red Line without hearing that time-honored catch phrase, "These guys might be better than the '85 club."
These "Might Be Betters" closed the year 9-7, courtesy of two games with the Detroit Lions, Motown's most popular little league team. Anybody who knows football knows the '08 Bears backed their way out of the postseason.
Wait a minute. You thought the '70s were screwed up? It's Academy Awards time and I'm watching one of those inane red carpet warm-up shows. Up steps my hero, Mickey Rourke, Hollywood's answer to Lazarus. Naturally, some clown with syrup for brains starts chatting with the Mick. Does the "interviewer" ask about the energy he brought to The Wrestler or the tragedy of the Mick's character, Randy "The Ram" Robinson?
No. This psycho ward candidate asks O'Rourke who designedhis suit. Just sensational, this guy would probably ask a group of welders if they prefer escargot to backgammon.
If I want you to drop the addiction, I guess I have to wean you off the '85 memories.
Here's the grinder: We will only deify Mike Ditka four days a week. Iron Mike's popularity continues to blow the charts from State and Madison to Benton Harbor, Michigan. Wasn't it just 12 years ago that Mike went through his dark "take this job and shove it" period as head coach of the New Orleans Saints?
Really, isn't something awry when Ditka's 1988 heart attack still gets more play than any current Bears defensive back? I was frankly knocked off the bar stool when Mike didn't win a Golden Globe in 2006 for his work opposite Will Ferrell in the romantic thriller Kicking and Screaming. Twenty-four years after his victory in the Super Bowl, Ditka still turns down no more than 300 speaking engagements a year.
Let's put it in these terms — Mike's so damn big in this town that if he were booked on six counts of arson, Richie Daley would personally hand-deliver bail money. Richie knows you can screw the folks in Bucktown, but you can't screw Ditka.
Mike can do no wrong because — and this, students, is the crux of the matter — our teams seldom know what day it is, let alone win anything of consequence. Throw out the "Jordan-Six" and Chicago's major sports franchises have won a grand total of four World Championships since 1961. Hawks — 1. Bears — 2. Ozzie Guillen — 1.
You're right, those numbers correspond to Felix Pie's "can't-miss" career with Jim Hendry and the Cubs.
"More than any club in history, the '85 Bears coined the phrase 'sports marketing.'"
— Kenny Valdiserri
Kenny just nailed it. Prior to '85, the Bears' idea of a streamlined marketing blitz was lining up a bank or a wholesale furniture outlet to buy the back cover of its press guide. Do you see where I'm going? The '85 Bears were fuckin' delicious. But a generation and change has come and gone.
I love "Mongo," "Hamp," "Silky D," and the "Mamma's Boy Otis," but do we have to bring them up every time the Bears lead the Vikings 13 — 7 at halftime?
Saturday Night Live didn't debut Joe Mantegna's "Da Bears" routine three weeks ago. That bit got started in 1991.
Take note: It was our pal Michael Keller Ditka who said, "The past is for cowards." Mike reminds you his Chestnut Street restaurant kicks major-league tail. Mike reminds you he can be seen weekly — almost hourly — on ESPN during the autumn. Mike reminds you that he has set records for banquet turnouts and attendance at corporate golf outings.
Mike, answer this question: Aren't we all just too wrapped up in that one-year, snow-shower of football energy? I'm sorry, I withdraw the question. The answer is obvious.
Notre Dame is an easy target for laughs — cheap laughs. The school would like to believe it invented football. And its alums on the wrong day can be a little too zealous, a little too arrogant, and just too darn full of Knute Rockne for their own good.
2 Rally sons of NOTRE DAME: See the Fighting Irish come bursting out of the TUNNEL at historic N.D. STADIUM
"The only thing worse than a dead drunk Notre Dame fan is a dead drunk Notre Dame fan when we don't cover."
— Unnamed alumnus, class of '64
Notre Dame is an easy target for laughs — cheap laughs. The school would like to believe it invented football. And its alums on the wrong day can be a little too zealous, a little too arrogant, and just too darn full of Knute Rockne for their own good.
But here's why I love the Irish faithful. They put their money where their mouth is. Check the box office. Notre Dame has sold out 254 of its last 255 home games. The only swing-and-a-miss during this sold-out run was a Thanksgiving Day ballgame versus Air Force — not exactly Celine Dion at Caesar's Palace — back in 1974. So why didn't that game go clean? C'mon, too easy. The students were off-campus due to the holiday break.
Plus, three days before the end of any given season, they're already worried about who'll quarterback the team two years down the road.
"My first game at Note Dame, I was so nervous I threw up as I got set to run through the tunnel. It was a feeling of exhilaration ... nervousness that I've never experience since."
— Aaron Taylor, Lombardi Award winner and consensus All-American defensive tackle at Notre Dame
Time out, A.T. I have to get the crowd warmed up for the main event.
A Saturday trip to watch Notre Dame is a full-blown "experience" — an experience that even people who think football is Neanderthal will find a way to love. It is not in the same league with childbirth but, damn, it has a flavor, a rush, a uniqueness all its own.
Pick a day in mid-October. The leaves are changing. The campus greenery is giving way to the colors of autumn, and the booze at roughly 5,000 tailgate parties could quench the thirst of the U.S. Marines.
You don't go to N.D. just to see the kickoff. You go to see the history, the tradition. Visit the Rockne Monument. I swear if you stare at the "Rock" for about 20 seconds, you get the impression he's daring you to blink. Naturally, you get photos with the Golden Dome and Touchdown Jesus in the background. Just walking the quad between the campus dorm rooms has its own special flavor.
Trust me. You won't find this kind of energy in Champaign-Urbana, East Lansing, or Raleigh, North Carolina.
Check out the Notre Dame band as it marches into N.D. Stadium. Visit the campus book shop. Count the scalpers.
Forget about the fact that Notre Dame finally won its first bowl game — beating Hawaii in the Hawaii Bowl — in December 2008 to end a 14-year swoon without a postseason victory. Tickets are golden. To get an N.D. ticket, you generally have to have a sister-in-law who works for this guy who's a friend of an auto parts dealer who sat with a CEO at a banquet where Lou Holtz was the keynote speaker. Alums beg to remain on the N.D. ticket list.
But back to the atmosphere. Most of all, the crème de la crème is watching the waves of blue-and-gold clad Notre Dame players surging out of the tunnel on to the emerald-green turf before the kickoff. It's breathtaking. If your grandfather was born in Ireland and you wouldn't dream of missing a St. Patrick's Day parade, it's even money that you'll break down crying.
It's not leaps and bounds better than the Bears running through that ugly inflated inner tube at Soldier Field — it's no contest. Side note: That inflated Bear should be given a one-way ticket to oblivion. Its appeal is nonexistent.
"The last time I ran through the tunnel, I was crying."
— Aaron Taylor, reflecting on his final home game as an N.D. player
Aaron is hardly unusual. Virtually ever N.D. player I've ever talked to about the tunnel gets weepy talking about the tunnel. The handful that don't are the kind of guys who think Dick Cheney was just a fabulous vice president.
The tunnel is the personification of the Notre Dame football experience. Its incremental value to N.D. just can't be measured. Sometimes I think it's half the reason NBC wouldn't dream of giving up its N.D. football package. I have no doubt it moves wealthy alums to dig deeper in their wallets to contribute to the school's massive endowment fund. (Contest time: Find a poor N.D. alum.)
I've seen the "tunnel" too many times and I still get the proverbial chills. The only thing comparable? Two great heavyweights with their handlers and hangers-on walking to ringside for a major heavyweight title fight. And let's get real. We haven't seen any big-time heavys go to war since Evander Holyfield was about 33 years old.
Experience the tunnel. Allow yourself to feel the vibes of N.D. Stadium, a ballpark Rockne helped design, a ballpark with the best sight lines in college football. Think about Paul Hornung, John Huarte, Tim Brown, and others who've grabbed the John W. Heisman Trophy while playing ball at N.D. Think about Frank Leahy, Ara "The Era of Ara" Parseghian, Dan Devine, and Lou Holtz — all Hall of Fame coaches.
The game itself may feel secondary. Sometimes it is. But give this one item high priority on your list: See the Irish running out of the tunnel.
"When we ran out of the tunnel ... after touching the 'Play Like a Champion Today' sign at the bottom of our locker room, we knew we were playing big-time football."
— Aaron Taylor
3 Attend a NORTHWESTERN football game. Please!
Think about a gorgeous autumn Saturday. The leaves are changing and green has given way to red, gold, and various shades of yellow. Crisp air combines with a gorgeous blue sky.
God, am I a poet.
What have you got? A great day to rake the leaves? Fuuugggeeeddabout it. It's a great day to attend a Northwestern football game. Don't worry about a box-office crush. The Wildcats generally lead the Big 10 in two categories: empty seats and rival fans equaling or outnumbering the Northwestern faithful at Ryan Field.
You talk about box-office misery. This is so disgraceful it should qualify for the obituaries. N.U. closed its 2008 home schedule and recorded its ninth win — that's NINTH win — by knocking off downstate rival Illinois 27 — 10. The game drew a whopping 32,000 fans. You're right. Northwestern doesn't need new tackling dummies, a weight room, or shoulder pads. It needs John McDonough.
Thirty-two thou for a ballgame with Illinois, a successful bid for nine wins, and about 40 percent of the crowd was wearing orange. Northwestern is obviously taking journalism and the Kellogg School of Management much too seriously.
Years ago, a local TV buddy told me Northwestern's problem was basically simple. He said he was convinced that 75 percent of the people in the nine-county area didn't know where the school is. I'd have to bump that a step further. I'm convinced that 85 percent don't know or care if the school's in the western hemisphere.
So what's the problem? Northwestern really has no one to blame but itself. Ryan Field is a decent, if not a "new age," ballpark that's a quick drive from downtown Chicago or downtown Deerfield. The school has the Big 10 pedigree and its average alum wouldn't be caught dead driving anything less than a five-series BMW. You want more? "GO U Northwestern" is a rousing fight song.
Attendance is such a dirty word in Evanston that the Wildcats football press guide doesn't even carry a section about crowd counts over the years. Would you?
Conversely, look at Notre Dame. The Irish can't get five lines into a press release without telling you that their football team has filled N.D. Stadium 254 times over its last 255 games.
I know by now you just can't wait to read my favorite Northwestern memories.
1. This goes back a few days. I was in old Dyche Stadium — yes the joint was Dyche (as in "dike") before it was renamed Ryan Field (it's amazing what money can do) — way back in 1958 when a young and hugely charismatic Ara Paraseghian led Northwestern to a 55 — 24 victory over Michigan. The slaughter rule should have been put in play at halftime. After two quarters, Team Ara led the Maize and Blue by the outrageous score of 43 — 0.
2. This is really perverse. This tells you my mind is in the gutter. November 7, 1981: Michigan State roasted the Wildcats 61 — 14 before a crowd of around 16,000 people. It was the 'Cats' 33 consecutive loss, which set a bundle of records for futility. But give those N.U. students their props. Late in the game they began marching north to south down the Northwestern side of the field chanting, "We're number one" ... along with "we are the worst." For kicks, the kids also tore down the goal posts.
I have to mention this. Muddy Waters, the Michigan State coach, came up with one of the single most classless acts I've ever seen on any kind of playing surface. Deep in the fourth quarter with the Spartans just crushing N.U.'s rib cage, he dared to run a double reverse. A double reverse? Major violation of the coaching code. If N.U. coach Denny Green would have had access to a tire iron, I have no doubt he would have left Muddy face down in Lake Michigan.
So back to our original conversation: Who's to blame for Northwestern's lack of fan interest? How about Northwestern? The school has never done anything to really sell its product to the Chicago media or guys in Cicero and Naperville who might just want to see Ohio State or Michigan or Iowa face "purple pride."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Fat Guys Shouldn't Be Dancin' at Halftime by Chet Coppock. Copyright © 2009 Chet Coppock. Excerpted by permission of Triumph Books.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
FOREWORD BY MARK GIANGRECO,FOREWORD BY BERT SUGAR,
PREFACE,
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS,
GRIDIRON GRUMBLINGS,
DIAMONDS IN THE ROUGH,
HOOPIN'IT UP,
ICING THE PUCK,
YOU CALL THESE SPORTS?,
FACES AND PLACES,
THE WRAP,