"And a One...and a Two..."

I was actually startled to learn that the Chicago Cubs are still holding to that stupid tradition of having some lukewarm celebrity lead the crowd in a rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" during the seventh inning stretch at Wrigley Field. This comes to mind because I just saw perhaps the worst ever singing of this by the Dallas Cowboys' Tony Romo, who obviously had one too many Old Styles before his warbling last Sunday. Take a look at this jerk. It's a good thing that he can hit some receivers because he's at a loss connecting with musical notes.

This ultra-silly tradition started years ago when the Cubs' former announcer, the late and overly liquored Harry Caray, used to stammer, stumble, and slosh his way through the song every game and then uttered an incoherent shout to the home team.

"Lesssssss shget sschum runs!"

I remember my roommate once saw me watching this and he was convinced it was a put-on. Sadly, it wasn't. It was one more in a series of embarrassing moments extended across the lifetime of one of the biggest jerks ever to call a major league baseball game. The guy was so pickled for so long that, ten years after his death, he probably hasn't decomposed one iota. Harry started back in the 40s and 50s with the St. Louis Cardinals and was run out of town after being caught diddling with some broad in the Gussie Busch family. He bounced around from job to job, always blatantly rooting for the home team and breaking every journalistic rule in the book. Some thought he was a fun watch. I always thought that the guy was one "Holy Cow" from having a scotch-provoked stroke right on the air. His charm escaped me totally.

In his last years, Cub fans lived for the sight of Harry propping himself up in the press box to butcher "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" one more time. And he never disappointed. One rendition was always worse than the last.

After Harry hoisted his glass for the last time one off-season, the Cubs decided to honor his memory by continuing the tradition one more year by having some hackneyed celebrity do it every game. I remember Dodger announcer Vin Scully telling the tale that he was asked to do the song when the Dodgers were visiting Chicago. He willingly complied for Harry. But, Vin was perplexed when they asked him to do it again the following season. Vin declined.

"The first time, I did it for Harry. The second time, I would be doing it for myself."

Nail squarely hit on the head. Now, this stupid tradition just gets more and more mangled every time some C list actor or athlete looks for their golden moment in the Wrigley sun. Enough already. Retire them. Harry's dead. Let's move on.

Fans don't need to be led through this ritual like sheep. Every Dodger game we readily stand and can easily sing all by ourselves (and in tune) to the strains of organist Nancy Bea Heffley. They do it the same way at Shea Stadium with a bonus rendition of Lou Monte's "Crazy Mary." The point is that the seventh inning stretch should be about the fans, not some jackass whose movie is opening at local theaters this Friday.

We're done.

Dinner last night: Meatloaf and knockwurst platter at Kate Mantillini's.