"Ten Hits in One Day!"

By Tom Callahan

For the first spring in memory, HoHoKam Park in Mesa, Ariz., does not seem to be laughing at the Chicago Cubs. The place still brims with pensioners, but fewer of them than usual are in uniform. Two hours before a Cactus League game with Milwaukee, outfielders are sprinting, base runners are drilling, and pitchers are covering first on bunts. Even a character as unromantic as the Cubs' 6-ft. 5-in. general manager, Dallas Green, the last baseball executive still executing on physical fear, is moved to murmur, "They're ready." He is referring to the fans, not the players. "They want to see people shag fly balls." They want to stop and smell the neat's-foot oil.

Cubs Manager Jim Frey, a minor-league batting champion of 1957, used to soak his bats in motor oil, an appropriate balm for one whose travels led him practically everywhere but to the major leagues. While awaiting promotion with the St. Louis Cardinals, though, Frey once drew near enough to Stan Musial to hear a definition of a doubleheader that stayed with him. "That's when Stanley can get ten hits in one day!" Musial exclaimed. "Think of it, ten hits!" On such optimum expectations, all Cubdom is founded, even in the after-math of three season-ending losses to San Diego last autumn, when a victory in any one would have won the pennant.

As pleased as Frey is that Free Agent Pitchers Rick Sutcliffe, Dennis Eckersley and Steve Trout have re-enlisted, he seems even more relieved that no jealousies have been detected. It is true enough that the Cubs payroll stands uniformly high, but something more than money appears to be involved. Don't ask Frey about the chemistry on his team, however. "Chemistry," he growls, "is a double with the bases loaded."

By certain calculations, pitching in Chicago's shrunken and windblown Wrigley Field can add a full point to earned-run averages. Yet Sutcliffe refused what all sides acknowledge was more cash to join the National League Champion Padres. Tugging on his roots in Independence, Mo., Kansas City showed Sutcliffe exactly where his grandfather's season seat would be. Again the pitcher resisted. "My heart told me to come back to Chicago," he says without embarrassment. "After the way things went last year, I guess I became a Cub fan." Behind his 16 victories against just one loss, the Cubs graced postseason competition for the first time since 1945. "I've always enjoyed pitching," muses Sutcliffe, rescued from Cleveland last June, "but I liked watching the Cubs on the days I didn't pitch, the whole production, Harry singing Take Me Out to the Ball Game, everything."

Through the power of the Cubs' international superstation WGN, a concrete mixer of a television play-by-play man named Harry Caray is the team's singular star. Even in spring training, he is sprinkled throughout the game with mash notes from customers who stir excitedly in anticipation of their favorite part of the show, his seventh-inning sing-along. Outfielder Gary Matthews can verify that the Cubs' appeal extends at least to Belize, a Central American country of 150,000, which receives the cable and recently requested a live float ornament for its Cub Mardi Gras. "Only the Pope drew better," Matthews returned to report grandly.

Attendance at HoHoKam is breaking spring-training records everywhere. "You can't beat the people to the park," says Centerfielder Bob Dernier, "just like Wrigley." At least temporarily, a judge has sided against lights at the last sunshine stadium in the big leagues. The Cubs will appeal for now and possibly depart eventually. But fans once preoccupied with "next year" are more concerned lately with the present. Plainly they have pardoned Frey for persisting with his Cy Young Award pitcher in last season's final game. "I've basically forgiven myself," says Sutcliffe, next week's opening-day starter, "but I'll never forget it." The last errors of Leon Durham and Ryne Sandberg have been expunged. Asked the favorite question--How can he, Sutcliffe and a number of others improve on the sterling seasons they had in 1984?--Most Valuable Player Sandberg answers brightly, "That's easy. Win the pennant." Think of it, ten hits for Stanley!

This year's shelved veteran and unveiled rookie are Larry Bowa, 39, and Shawon Dunston, 22. Grumpy little coot that he is, Bowa can still play shortstop. Dunston, the well-known shortstop of the future, committed 58 errors in the minors last season. But before anyone begins to question the quality of diamonds in Des Moines, he says, "No, no, no, those were my errors." Dunston is an unusually direct prospect. Unusual for baseball, that is, not Brooklyn, where he won three batting titles at Thomas Jefferson High School. "I want to be a star," he admits, "but I don't want to embarrass myself in front of 50,000 people." That is next to impossible in Wrigley Field.