Bob

My friend Bob was, in a word, different.  He was probably the tallest kid in our age group at St. Gall from the time he arrived around the fourth grade.  His parents were from downstate and advertised it with every word they spoke.  When Bob’s dad answered the phone, he said, “4-7-6, 4-4-7-2,” with a twang so thick you’d think it came with bib overalls.  Come to think of it, Bob and his dad did wear them on occasion.

Bob didn’t talk funny like that; he just looked different from anyone else with his yellow baseball cap and gray cloth jacket.  I’m pretty sure Bob was the only kid in the city of Chicago who carried an attaché case to school with him.  If someone was making fun of how he dressed or walked (with a long hop-gait that must have inspired John Cleese), Bob turned into Linus wielding his blanket, only he tossed the bag more like a bowling ball.  The boy was deadly accurate at up to twelve feet.

After graduation, Bob surprised everyone by going to a boarding school in Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin, just like Charles Comiskey had nearly a century before.  But nothing White Sox rubbed off on Bob; he was one of those irritating South Side Cubs’ fans, with an odd rooting interest in another National League team, which I’ll get to shortly.  In the summer, Bob found a way to go to games free by working as an Andy Frain usher.  Considering that we all lived about fifteen miles away from Wrigley Field, that meant dragging his special ushers’ outfit on multiple busses.  The boy did love his uniforms.  One game, Billy Williams hit a foul ball that whacked Bob square in the back, and down he went.  I saw it happen on television.

Like his other friends, Bob played Strat-O-Matic Baseball.  There were five of us in a league, and for reasons best known to himself, Bob stuck with the Philadelphia Phillies.  Jim Bunning, Clay Dalrymple, Bob loved them all no matter how often he lost, which was a lot.  Matt always won the pot, but that’s another story.

After high school, Bob attended the University of Wisconsin at Madison, which was an odd choice given that he also belonged to Navy ROTC.  He got to wear a uniform again, but not everybody appreciated it as much as he did.  In time, Bob became an officer on a supply ship.  I wanted him to stand up to my wedding, but he was stationed off Iran in the spring of 1980.  After his seafaring days, Bob went to law school and settled in Wisconsin, where he and his wife Julie raised four kids.  His oldest looks just like him, but really pretty.  I don’t think Bob would mind my saying that.

And so, the resurgent Cubs face the doormat Phils in a doubleheader today; it’s shades of 1969 all over again.  Bob probably would have liked to see a split.  Then, if I said anything about his Cubbies dropping a game to such a bad team, he’d ask me what the White Sox were doing.  Yes, that’s exactly what would happen.