Tag Archives: 1969

Fake Historians and the Loss of Luggage During the Revolutionary War.

The educational institutes of America are failing us.

How else can we explain the national reaction as one of surprise and vacant looks
when our fearless leader praised the colonial army for defending airports during the revolutionary war?
 

How could the concept of air power during the birth of a nation be overlooked?

I’ve entertained quite a few explanations as to how this gap in our collective consciousness could have occurred.  Only one explanation makes sense, fake historians.

The only way to counteract fake historians is to develop an alternate history curriculum.

A peek into a classroom using  such a curriculum might look like this:

“Now class lets do some review for the upcoming history exam. I am going to ask some questions that could be on the test. If you think you know the
answer politely raise your hand.”

“How many candles were used to signal the arrival and mode of transport  of the invading British forces?”

“Yes Dianne, how many.”

“Two miss Simpson.”

“That is incorrect. How about you Katie?”

“Three candles mam.”

“Correct and what did they stand for?”

“One if by land, Two if by Sea and Three if by British Airlines courtesy shuttle.”

“Correct Katie. Certainly less romantic than the vision of Mr. Revere atop a muscular steed galloping through the night but much more pragmatic.”

“Why were the solders cold at valley forge?”

“Yes Bobby.”


“Their winter clothes were in their luggage that was lost making a connection at Ohare airport.”

“Correct Bobby.”

“Can anyone tell me about the stamp act?”

“How about you Jason?”

“New History teaches us that the stamp act was British Airways attempt at redefining their frequent flyer program.”

“Correct and how exactly did they redefine that program?”

“Yes Alicia”

By resetting everyone’s milage to 0 to avoid pay out to a large number of members that had accumulated enough for any awards.”

“Outstanding Alicia.”

“What do we know about the Boston Tea Party?”

“How about you Simon.”

“New History reveals to us that the Boston Tea Party occurred in the British Airways lounge at Logan International Airport when a large group of frequent flyer members stormed the lounge to assert their right to the use of the lounge under the old frequent miles program.

One additional act of civil disobedience was carried out by the patriots. They stole the lounges entire stock of tea. No one knows exactly became of the tea but many historians believe the large amount of tea was personally used by the patriots involved in the occupancy of the lounge. They point to historical records that suggest that the patriots involved with the siege showed signs of severe insomnia.”

“Very good. Class I am impressed. I believe you will do well on the exam. Also, make sure you are not paying attention to any history books you may have from previous  classes.

Waiting For Leo Durocher

The clouds were puffy, the air was sweet and all was well in heaven save for the myriad of Cub fans lucky enough to call heaven their forever home.

Sure they had the same amenities as the rest of the tenants but they had departed the mortal plane wanting. There were plenty of blue sky occupants disgruntled with the circumstances with which they came to find their selves aboard the heavenly bus. Cub fans, in particular, held onto their disappointment ironically like grim death. Living their entire lives without witnessing the Cubs win a World Series stuck with them through many phases of their lives including their last.

You may think  that in the grand scheme of life a lousy trophy is a dust mote in an endless beam of sun but spend some time around Cub fans and understanding may be yours.

During the ebb and flow of the 2016 baseball season, there existed an undertow of excitement among baseball fans both living and dead. Seasoned Cub fans tempered the current atmosphere with pain from the past. They had been on this bandwagon before and derailment had left long-lasting scars. By the close of September, most were firm believers that this time the Cubs were going to make it to the final destination. There was still one solitary soul who thought there was time for one more epic derailment. He had cause. He was Leo Durocher. He was at the helm of the loveable losers during their infamous 1969 season. Many fans and writers alike labeled 1969  the year of the “Miracle Mets”. Repeat after me there was no miracle that year. The Cubs choked. They led their division by nine games in September before going on a road trip they never returned from.

During the seventh game of the 2016 World Series, the view of Cleveland stadium to those in the hereafter was, well, heavenly. The game played out before them in a panoramic 360 and not one seat was a bad one.  If you were monitoring the comings and goings of the crowd, you would notice during the sixth inning the arrival of the aforementioned Leo Durocher. As with all Cub fans he had finally cast aside his past in the belief that after 108 years, this was the Cubs time. It was the seventh game and it was theirs to win.

During the late innings of the game, the unthinkable happened. After leading the first seven innings the Cubs could not close the back door. Cleveland snuck in some runs and tied it in the eighth inning. Nobody mustered any runs in the ninth so the game was heading into extra innings.

The grand view from heaven became obscured by clouds of all things and rain began to fall upon Jacobs* field. Cubs fans on the mortal plain would later say, tongue in cheek,  that the ensuing delay was a gift from heaven. Fans from the celestial sphere sitting in the vicinity of Mr. Durocher would later recall his tear moistened cheeks and the incongruous smile he wore that seemed to clear the clouds.

He knew the Cubs would win but not without strumming the fans heartstrings one more time. That was the Cubs way. 

The game resumed after a brief delay and the Cubs proceeded to vanquish the ghosts of 1969, pulling the bandwagon into the final destination and taking with them millions of fans from both sides of the ethereal plane.  If one glanced briefly one could see the ghost of Leo Durocher manning the engine and silently crying.

* Sorry. the game of baseball is too steeped in tradition for anyone to call it Progressive field.

The Fading Ghosts of ’69

The place had emptied. The last hot dog wrapper of 2015 had drifted across the infield and made its exit out into the parking lot. A few wisps of vapor had lingered in the right field bleachers. If one listened closely one could almost hear the vapor speak.

“Same time next year fellas?”

“Yea, the usual.”

“I think next year is the last, next year.”

“What are you giving up?”

“Never, but next year we’ll be satisfied and we’ll move on.”

“Yea, I think you’re right. It feels different this time.”

“I saw that goat leave during the season.”

“Oh really, when?”

“It was just after a walk off win.”

“Which one? We had a bunch.”

“September 28, 2015.”

“The last one, against the Royals?”

“Yea. We didn’t know it then but the goat knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That we just took 2 out of 3 from a team bound for the World Series.”

“Yea but that was before we made the playoffs, before we beat St Louis to move to the NLCS.”

“Yea but at that point the goat knew that was a foregone conclusion and that his time was up.”

“I’m not going to miss that goat.”

“Me either, he stunk.”

“When does spring training start?”

“It’s just around the corner.”

Note: The Author is a lifelong Cub fan and spent the summer of 1969 firmly entrenched in the friendly confines.  They have broken his heart more times than the women in his life. He is still a diehard fan….of both.