‘The Bear’ goes to bat for Cubs fan Steve Bartman
Accidental hero of the 2003 Marlins championship gets some well-deserved love from a hit TV show about a fictional Chicago restaurant
SPOILER ALERT! This story contains details about the second season of the hit FX series “The Bear.”
Just ahead of the 20th anniversary of the baseball playoff contest known as “the Bartman game,’’ “The Bear” – an award-winning TV show about a fictional Chicago restaurant – serves up an irresistible homage to the poor Cubs fan forever linked to the last Miami Marlins championship season.
We’re talking about Steve Bartman, the bespectacled dude with headphones who reached for a baseball on an October night at Wrigley Field in 2003, setting off a series of events that doomed the Cubs. At least that was the view at the time of millions of long-suffering Cubs fans who needed a scapegoat after a stunning Marlins rally altered the course of the postseason.
In the immediate aftermath, several Cubs players and team management publicly absolved Bartman, saying he had nothing to do with the loss and that the team blew chance after chance to win the game. But that didn’t stop the haters from hating and sending the poor guy into seclusion, an unfortunate saga that all but ended in 2016 when the Cubs finally won their first World Series since 1908.
Just for good measure, episode nine in the second season of “The Bear,” which premiered June 22, offers perhaps the most emphatic public defense yet of Steve Bartman.
It’s done with a beautifully-acted scene that uses “the Bartman game,’’ as it is known, as an allegory in a pep talk for a chef who’s trying to open a new restaurant.
Oh, and in that scene, f-bombs drop like Marlins hits did in that fateful eighth inning.
First up: What’s “The Bear”?
“The Bear” is a popular comedy/drama on FX and Hulu about a brilliant young fine-dining chef who comes home to Chicago to run his recently deceased brother’s hot-sandwich shop, The Original Beef of Chicagoland.
Season one, described in a New York Times review as “a war story that happens to take place in a kitchen,’’ premiered last year. It won critical acclaim and several awards, including a Golden Globe for actor Jeremy Allen White, who stars as chef Carmen Berzatto. It also earned 13 Emmy nominations, as announced yesterday.
In season two, Carmen sets out on realizing his late brother’s dream of converting the sandwich shop into a high-end restaurant called The Bear (which is both a play off their last name and the nickname given to ‘Carmy’ by his late brother before he committed suicide).
The second season follows Carmen and his crew as they rush to get the new restaurant renovated and opened amid a bleak backdrop as other restaurants around town are shuttering and struggling to survive.
What in the name of Jack McKeon does a fictional Chicago restaurant have to do with the 2003 Marlins?
That question is answered halfway through episode nine, in a quiet but intense scene in which Carmen’s “Uncle Jimmy,” a major financial investor in The Bear, calmly warns his ambitious nephew about the risks of operating a successful restaurant.
“Odds are against you, kid,’’ Uncle Jimmy, played by the great Oliver Platt, says.
“Is that right?’’ Carmen replies, with a hint of sarcasm.
“Yeah, that’s right.’’ Uncle Jimmy looks at him intently and asks:
“May I share with you a story of complete and utter failure?”
“Yes, I’ve been waiting,’’ Carmy replies, turning up the sarcasm.
“Wonderful. Do you remember Alex Gonzalez, shortstop for the Cubs?”
“Ummm... No, no. I don't think so.’’
“Right, and it’s a shame you don't think so, but I'm going to explain why you don’t think so. …’’
Uncle Jimmy goes on to describe the fateful play that turned the eighth inning of Game 6 upside down and sideways for the Cubs — and no, it was not the Bartman incident but a play that unfolded two batters later.
There was one out with runners at first and second. The Cubs were leading 3-1. A double play would end the inning and move the Cubbies three outs closer to their first World Series since 1945.
A routine ground ball was hit to Gonzalez, a slick fielder who led all National League shortstops in fielding percentage that year.
Except this ground ball, as Uncle Jimmy explains, turned out to be anything but routine.
F-bombs away!
(Warning: The following monologue contains numerous f-bombs, which we will spell out from now on in all their profane glory because of the passion and deft with which “Uncle Jimmy” so eloquently drops them — starting with his description of the “National League Championship Fucking Series.”)
“Miguel Cabrera hits a choppy, shitty little thing to Gonzalez, right? And I mean an easy grab, no-fucking-brainer kind of thing,’’ he says.
“But for whatever reason, Gonzalez … bobbled the fucking ball. Didn’t make the double play. Couldn’t send the Cubs to the ninth. Unforced error, right? And the result of that, bases loaded. And the result of that, all fucking hell breaks loose. … Oh, man. Cubs fall apart at the seams, Marlins score five runs, Cubs lose.’’
(The Marlins, who trailed 3-0 after seven innings, actually scored eight runs in the inning, but Uncle Jimmy made his point.)
Carmen asks: “So, why don't we remember him?’’
“Because that very same inning, several plays earlier,’’ Uncle Jimmy replies, “Luis Castillo hits a foul ball to left outfield. And, oh my God, it looks like, it feels like, it smells like Moises Alou is going to grab that fucking thing and the Cubs are going to be four outs from the pennant.
“But instead, just as Moises is jumping for the ball, a fan in the stands, inches from Moises, does what any goddamn fucking person would do with a goddam fucking ball flying toward them in a major league sporting venue. He tries to catch it. But his glove bumps into Moises’ glove. The fucking ball drops and end of play. Fuck you, Cubbies.’’
“Bartman,’’ Carmen says, suddenly remembering the name of the fan.
“Bartman,’’ Uncle Jimmy confirms.
“And everyone wants to kill little Stevie Bartman. But Alex Gonzalez’s fuckup — trust me, it’s the real fuckup, right? Like the eight other fuckups. But then all of a sudden, all of those fuckups are a wash because of Steven Bartman. Because everybody and their mother wants to blame this fucking guy instead of the actual fucking motherfucking fuckups who fucked it up!”
Uncle Jimmy lowers his voice and continues.
“He's just a normal guy, right? With normal fucking head phones. Just reaching for a foul ball. On a lovely night at Wrigley. And he ends up taking the blame for an entire squad who literally took their eye off the ball.’’
Carmen furls his eyebrows and offers what he thinks is the moral of the story: “OK, so we don’t want to be Bartman, right?”
“No, dumbass,’’ Uncle Jimmy snaps back.
“You don’t wanna be Gonzalez. You don’t wanna be unfocused. …
“This business, like a lot of businesses, it sucks, right? But this one sucks extra hard because the profit margins are nonexistent, right? And unforced errors. Trust me, they’re contagious. So you don't have the luxury of hiding behind little Stevie Bartman. It is all you. It’s all you, right? So you’ve got to put your fucking head down, you’ve got to focus and you got to live this shit and nothing else. ... You cannot take your eyes off this thing.’’
Was “the Bartman game” an allegory by design?
Uncle Jimmy’s four-minute speech drives home an important point for the fictional storyline about the risky restaurant business. But it’s also a rally cry in defense of a real-life person whose life was turned upside because he did, as Uncle Jimmy says, “what any goddamn fucking person would do with a goddam fucking ball flying toward them in a major league sporting venue.’’
Was “the Bartman game” mentioned in the episode on purpose, with the approach of the 20th anniversary of the fateful game?
The episode was written by Joanna Calo and Christopher Storer, who is also the show’s creator/director. Storer grew up in the Chicago suburb of Park Ridge. We can assume he’s a Cubs fan who’s sympathetic to Bartman’s plight.
We can also assume he’s a sports fan in general. Another pivotal role in “The Bear” goes to the book “Leading with the Heart” by legendary basketball coach Mike Krzyzewski. (You’ll have to watch the series to understand the Coach K connection.)
The not-so-friendly confines
Confession: I’m a big fan of “The Bear,’’ even if many scenes and characters can be hard to watch. (If you’ve seen the “Fishes” episode, you know what I’m talking about.)
But of all the scenes in all the episodes, Uncle Jimmy’s allegorical pep talk in episode nine (called “Omelette”) of season two resonates most for me. Because I was there for the “Bartman game.’’
As the Marlins beat writer for The Palm Beach Post, I had to rewrite my game story on deadline as the Marlins rallied to win.
What I remember most about that night was the vitriolic reaction from fans who, at the drop of a foul ball, turned charming Wrigley into the not-so-friendly confines.
Wrigley Field was built in 1914, and in 2003 it lacked the basic amenities found at modern ballparks.
Like a press elevator.
To get from the press box high above home plate to the clubhouses beneath the stands, reporters must walk down the concrete stairs and winding ramps, shoulder to shoulder with all of the exiting fans.
As sportswriters made their way to the clubhouse after Game 6, some fans noticed our press passes and didn’t hesitate to tell us through beer breath, as if they expected to be quoted, that the guy who knocked the ball from Moises Alou’s glove (Bartman hadn’t been identified yet) should be shot and hanged.
The Marlins beat the Cubs the next night, punching a ticket to the World Series, which they would clinch with another Game 6 win, this one at Yankee Stadium.
For Cubs fans everywhere, Steve Bartman became a scapegoat. No thanks to the media, he became a part of pop culture, too, spoofed in a “Saturday Night Live” skit and ghosted in a “Law & Order” episode about the “foul ball guy” who gets murdered in a bar.
In 2008, I wrote a five-year anniversary story describing what Bartman went through that night when Cubs fans showered him with beer and trash as security guards tried to whisk him from his seat to safety.
He wouldn't comment for my story, just as he’s declined all other media interview requests since the incident.
As the 20th anniversary of the game approaches, reporters will probably pursue Bartman again in the coming months.
He enjoyed a measure of closure in 2016 when the Cubs gifted him a World Series ring, prompting him to release a statement:
Although I do not consider myself worthy of such an honor, I am deeply moved and sincerely grateful to receive an official Chicago Cubs 2016 World Series Championship ring. I am fully aware of the historical significance and appreciate the symbolism the ring represents on multiple levels. My family and I will cherish it for generations.
Most meaningful is the genuine outreach from the (team owner) Ricketts family, on behalf of the Cubs organization and fans, signifying to me that I am welcomed back into the Cubs family and have their support going forward. I am relieved and hopeful that the saga of the 2003 foul ball incident surrounding my family and me is finally over.
I humbly receive the ring not only as a symbol of one of the most historic achievements in sports, but as an important reminder for how we should treat each other in today's society. My hope is that we all can learn from my experience to view sports as entertainment and prevent harsh scapegoating, and to challenge the media and opportunistic profiteers to conduct business ethically by respecting personal privacy rights and not exploit any individual to advance their own self-interest or economic gain.
Moreover, I am hopeful this ring gesture will be the start of an important healing and reconciliation process for all involved. To that end, I request the media please respect my privacy, and the privacy of my family. I will not participate in interviews or further public statements at this time.
Words alone cannot express my heartfelt thanks to the Ricketts family, Crane Kenney, Theo Epstein, and the entire Cubs organization for this extraordinary gift, and for providing the City of Chicago and Cubs fans everywhere an unforgettable World Championship in 2016. I am happy to be reunited with the Cubs family and positively moving forward with my life.
Tally your scorecards
For those keeping score, Uncle Jimmy drops precisely 23 f-bombs while sharing his Bartman allegory in episode nine of season two of “The Bear,’’ including the 20 mentioned in this article.
Another telling statistic from the saga: Steve Bartman has more World Series rings than former Cubs shortstop Alex Gonzalez.
Here’s hoping that Bartman sees and appreciates episode nine, season two, of “The Bear.’’
Brilliant mate, just brilliant.
I can't get over the fact that the script refers to left field as "left outfield."