The Boys of Winter

By Michael Demarest

Middle-aged Mittys take on the Chicago Cubs' 1969 team

"To play this game good, a lot of you's got to be a little boy."

--The Dodgers' Roy Campanella

The brochure was dynamite. "We won't just take you out to the ball game," it promised. "We'll put you in it--against the 1969 Chicago Cubs." To a man with enough boy in him to be a fan of the ever vincible Cubs, the offer was irresistible. While the team has not won a pennant since 1945 or a World Series since 1908, its performance in 1969 was nothing short of heartbreaking: the boys were flying high until they collapsed in September and finished second to New York's miraculous Mets. Now, for $2,195, any Cub-smitten manchild was offered a trip to Scottsdale, Ariz., for a week of the kind of training the big leaguers get, a chance to mingle with the holdover heroes of '69 and be coached by them. Finally, he would get to play against the aging Chicago stars at Scottsdale Stadium, where the team had trained in '69. Among them: Hall of Fame Infielder Ernie Banks, slugging Third Baseman Ron Santo, homeric Outfielder Billy Williams and solid Second Baseman Glenn Beckert.

Re-creating the summer of '69 for middle-aged Mittys was the idea of Randy Hundley, 40, catcher for the team that year, and Allan Goldin, 43, former head of the Evelyn Wood Reading Dynamics Institute and a lifelong Cub loyalist. The two men had formed All Star Baseball, Inc., in 1980 to run summer baseball camps for children, and late last year they decided to put on a spring training camp for adults over 35, or "middleaged kids," in Hundley's phrase. They expected 35 takers but accepted 63.

The Scottsdale rookies were motivated as much by sentimentality as by any illusions of athletic prowess. Dr. Leonard Arnold, 61, came along with his twin sons Larry and Gary, who "were born the last year the Cubs won a pennant." Jim Anixter, 38, a wire-company executive from Highland Park, Ill., was a member of a syndicate that attempted unsuccessfully to buy the Cubs from the Wrigley family in 1981 (the team was purchased by Chicago's Tribune Co.). Gene Marzelli, 45, of Palatine, Ill., who designs office interiors, had been working out daily since Thanksgiving. Everyone's favorite goat was Dr. Harry Soloway, 45, a bearded Chicago psychiatrist whose flubbed grounders and muffed flies on the first day prompted a Phoenix sportswriter to call him "probably the worst ballplayer I've ever seen."

The oldest of the Campers, as the group was called, was Art Lessel, 63, a corporate jet pilot who pitched for the Air Force in occupied Japan. Said he: "My legs are in shape, and my arm feels good. I can still twist off a few curves, pull the string on a change-up, throw a fair knuckleball, and move the ball around pretty good." Not everyone had such steely resolve. Denny Albano, 42, a Chicago commodities trader who was varsity catcher at Bradley University in Peoria, Ill., trained mostly on four vodkas a day. When he essayed his first indoor swing in 20 years, he shattered the kitchen chandelier.

A seasoned trainer was on hand to minister to the Mittys. Harry Jordan, 65, a veteran of 37 years with the Giants, dealt with the aftereffects of the four-hour daily workouts that included aerobic exercises, and provided relief for aching muscles with whirlpool baths, ultrasound equipment and clay packs to ease deep soreness. Though the veterans repeatedly urged the tyros to slow down, they ran full tilt, went for the fences against the batting machine and tried to gobble grounders like so many Pac-Men. Result: a welter of pulled hamstrings, aching deltoids and sore quadriceps among what a spectator dubbed the Ben-Gay Brigade. Groaned an amateur: "The only part of me that doesn't hurt is my fingernails."

The pros delivered a staccato fire of advice. Warned Billy Williams, 44, now an Oakland A's batting coach: "You gotta swing level, through the ball. Never try to lift it." Santo, 42, was back at third base; Outfielder-Catcher Gene Oliver, 47, worked with the Campers on cutoff throws; Pitcher Ferguson Jenkins, 39, the only 1969 Cub playing in the majors as a current Cubs ace, concentrated on pick-off motion and holding runners close to first.

After three days of training, Coach Beckert exclaimed: "These guys are really beginning to look like ballplayers!" Some Campers signed autographs for spectators. A few even started chewing tobacco. Chief Instructor Hundley was a tough taskmaster, fining those who were late to workouts or failed to wear batting helmets in hitting drills. "This is a big-league operation," he barked. "If you get hurt, the doctor's bill is on you."

The day of the big game in Scottsdale Stadium was clear and bright. A crowd of 4,200, including many Mitty family members, paid up to $10 a ticket, benefiting the Scottsdale Memorial Hospital. Leo Durocher, 77, flew in from Palm Springs to manage the Cubs, just as he had in 1969. The Campers' team, optimistically rechristened the All Stars, was managed by Charlie Grimm, 84, who led the Cubs to three pennants in 14 seasons, and Steve Stone, 35, a former Cub who won the Cy Young Memorial Award as the American League's Best Pitcher in 1980. "Let's face it," Stone told his charges. "We're not going to dazzle the '69 Cubs. We'll try to baffle them instead, and maybe wear them down."

The has-beens were not about to be befuddled by the never-weres. They won 12-1 after the regulation nine innings, yet the game was extended to 15 so that each of the All Star players could get at least one at bat and play an inning in the field. The result, after five hours: 23-6. There were no bad scenes. Cubs Veteran Oliver, caught in a rundown, pretended to drop dead. But there were genuine heroic moments too. Ignoring Catcher Marzelli's call for a knuckler, Peoria Corn Farmer Ken Schwab, 55, who had pitched for an Army team more than a quarter-century ago, "reached back a few years for the best fast ball I could find," and struck Ernie Banks out swinging. Catcher Albano and Short stop Ike Ackerman, a 44-year-old Iowa attorney, rifled sharp singles off Cub South paw Rich Nye and wound up with 1.000 batting averages against big leaguers. "The vodkas helped," declared Albano. Lessel came within a prayer of knocking a 355-ft. homer. The Arnold family went home happy: Father Leonard managed a grounder, Son Larry stroked a solid single, and twin Gary struck out Banks on a sidearm change-up. The most happy player may have been Soloway , the quintessential bumbler, who was awarded a plaque as Most Improved Player. He promptly an nounced his retirement from baseball. Until next year? --By Michael Demarest. Reported by Lee Griggs/ Scottsdale

With reporting by Lee Griggs/ Scottsdale This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.