Harry Caray: A Tradition Worth Saving
I remember attending Cubs games at Wrigley Field as a child and knowing exactly what was coming when the top of the seventh inning drew to a close. The Cubs players would scurry off the field and Garry Pressy would fire up the organ with a few ominous — almost sinister-sounding — chords. A throaty voice wailed across the public address system, rebounding around the upper deck and bouncing into the outfield corners:
“ALL RIGHT! LEMME HEAR YA!”
Every eye was fixed on the press box, where an imposing man was commanding the attention and participation of 38,000+ (or maybe 30,000…this was the early 90s, after all) to join him in a legendary Chicago tradition. As a kid, there was something fascinating and a little bit scary about Harry. From his glasses to his enthusiasm, everything about him was larger than life. This was especially evident during the Stretch, as he leaned out of the booth, boisterously gesticulating with his microphone. During night games, he was even more transfigured, illuminated by extra press box lights.
“A ONE…A TWO…A THREE…”
There was little deviation from this opening script. When Harry sang the Stretch, his customized prelude became a part of the lyrics. The fans would even join him in his slow and deliberate countdown.
“TAKE!”
I always remember the authority of this opening word. Harry spat it at the crowd, raising their excitement to a riotous frenzy. He would finish the rest of the first line and then turn the microphone on the crowd.
“…ME OUT TO THE BAALL…GAME…”
WGN cameras would capture the rapture of Cubs fans briefly forgetting their team’s nearly 90-year struggle to join Harry in his musical revery. They’d sway back and forth scream-singing along, holding their Cubs or Harry Caray-themed signs up for the cameras and waving. The song continued, with Harry briefly raising the microphone back to his own lips for crucial words that needed his emphasis. Especially the most important line of all:
“…ROOT, ROOT, ROOT FOR THE CUH…BEEZ!”
Always with that staccato pause in the middle of the pronunciation of “Cubbies.” The song continued to its emotional climax and final countdown, once again usually guided by Harry at the microphone.
“FOR IT’S 1, 2, 3 STRIKES YER OUT
AT THE OLD…BALL…GAME!”
As Harry got through that final line, each word seemed to require so much energy that you almost wondered if he would have enough breath left to finish the song. He always did, usually punctuating the end of the song with a “HEY!” If the Cubs were losing, as they often were in my outings to the ballpark, you were assured of the pleading postscript:
“LET’S…GET…SOME…RUNS!”
I feel oddly privileged to have been a part of this ritual on so many occasions, especially now, when Harry Caray is starting to be better known to non-Cubs fan, post-1990s generations as that hilarious character Will Ferrell made up.
When Harry died in 1998, it made a lot of sense to honor the tradition by bringing in his widow or beloved former Cubs players or Chicago area celebrities to come into the booth as guest conductors and lead the song. But once the commemorative Harry Caray patches were removed from the team’s uniforms the year after he died, the tradition should have evolved. The list of guest conductors grew increasingly disconnected and pathetic. When even D-list celebrities were nowhere to be found, the duty fell on the shoulders of current Cubs broadcasters. Today, if I miss the identifying graphic, I frequently have no idea who the “celebrity” is that is holding Harry’s microphone, standing in his spot and failing to find the key or keep time with the organist. And they probably have no idea who Harry Caray is.
I remember the idea (and maybe even remember that it was implemented for a time?) of playing audio of Harry’s version over the PA system and getting fans to sing along to that. Now that garish and obtrusive technological advances have come to Wrigley, there’s an even better option that already has its own 2,700-person-strong petition at change.org: Put Harry Caray on the Jumbotron.
It’s an obvious solution to an unnecessary “problem.” The tradition carries on with its original instigator. The fans still get excited and get to participate in a more authentic recreation of the timeless ritual. We also save the lives of countless customized Cubs jerseys issued to relatively unknown guest conductors who probably toss them on their way out of Wrigley.
Since the Cubs organization has frequently maintained that the new video board will not intrude on the park’s history and traditions — and will, in fact, enhance them — here’s a chance to put all that new advertising money where their mouth is. I just can’t imagine the argument against it. There’s no doubt that the Cubs are itching for ways to integrate the video board into the Wrigley experience and there are probably thousands of videos of Harry singing the Stretch in the WGN/Cubs video archives, so there could even be a little variety. At frigid April games, Harry could appear in a warm and vintage blue Cubs jacket. At humid July games, it can be a sweaty Harry singing in his WGN polo. Maybe there are even some opponent-specific videos they could find. This is also one time when it would be permissible to show shots of the crowd on the video board (another crass, modern-day baseball stadium sin they have promised to avoid), as mugging for the TV cameras during the song remains as much of a tradition as the singing at this point. Might as well give people their three seconds of fame.
I’m fairly certain that if Harry were still around to sing it, there would be absolutely no debate about plastering his live image on the video board during the Stretch. Besides, everyone seated in the sections under or right next to the press box can’t see the action anyway. Throw them a bone.
In the nearly two decades that he plied his craft at Wrigley, Harry Caray became as essential a part of Cubs lore as Mr. Cub, the ivy on the walls and the accursed goat. That’s the only reason that this tradition has been allowed to limp along in its currently sub-par iteration. It seems important. It’s part of the experience. You can’t just let it go.
It’s time to restore some dignity to the mangling of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” — by letting the master conductor take the baton again.
Play us out, Harry.
(You get bonus Cubs Fan Points if you can provide the full names of the three Cubs who are due up in the bottom of the seventh. Answer key in the video’s caption.)
