UPBEAT CHICAGO MAGAZINE article: "Et tu, Michael?"

I wrote the following piece for a magazine called "Upbeat Chicago" in 1993. The (first) retirement of Michael Jordan shocked the city of Chicago, but my reaction was probably a little different than most.





Et tu, Michael?

By Rick Kaempfer





Michael Jordan's shocking retirement announcement really nailed me. I now want to be a food critic. See if you can follow my train of thought on this.

Every boy on every playground in America wanted to be Michael Jordan. It was everybody's standard dream.

"What are you going to be when you grow up?"
I'm going to be a professional athlete.

Pick your sport: baseball, football, basketball, hockey, soccer. We just want to be the best in the world. We want to suck in the praise as we hit that last second shot to win the game. We spend the bulk of our childhood pretending to be that person. If the truth be told, we also spend our adulthood wishing we were that person. Why do you think we get so emotionally involved in sporting events? We are living our lives vicariously through them.

Which, of course, brings us to our current dilemma. If Michael Jordan doesn't even like being Michael Jordan, maybe we've been wasting our time idolizing the wrong profession. This realization sent me on a quest.

Let's face it, nobody is one hundred percent happy with their job. The bottom line is they don't call it work for nothing. The cold hard truth is that even Michael Jordan didn't love his work, and all he did was play basketball for a living. Apparently the price of fame is the drawback.

So, our new dream job cannot be one that makes us famous. OK, eliminate rock star, movie star, and politician from our list of candidates.

What's left? After a long night of soul searching I decided that what I really want to do is find a job that allows me to sit on my couch, drink beer, eat snacks, and watch sporting events. Ooooh, what about sportswriter? Now that has some appeal. I tried to think of the downside, then it hit me....sportswriters have to talk to athletes. That would really bring me down. Those poor pro athletes are miserable.

OK, so we have to stay away from sports. What about just watching TV? Yeah, that's it! I want to be a TV critic. What could possibly be the downside? Then it hit me....a TV critic has to watch all of the shows on TV. He or she even has to watch those bad Sunday night made-for-television tearjerkers. Scratch that job. If I had to watch one more movie about wife beating I'd be as unhappy as poor Michael Jordan.

OK, so we have to stay away from TV. Sitting on the couch without watching TV wouldn't be nearly as much fun...so scratch that as a possible career. What about just drinking beer? As appealing as it sounds, it probably isn't very healthy. So what does that leave? Eating.

There actually is a way to do that for a living...become a food critic. That scary looking guy on Channel 7 does it, doesn't he? That's his job. He goes to restaurants, gets all of his food for free, gets to try whatever kind of food he wants, gets his butt kissed by the owner of the restaurant, and gets to try just about everything on the menu.

What about the downside? There is no downside. What if the restaurant is bad? So what? You're still eating for free. What do you spend most of your disposable income on? That's right...food. That would no longer be a problem. Wow, my heart is racing just thinking about the possibilities. Think about it. Have you ever heard a food critic complain about his job? Isn't that guy on Channel 7 always smiling like he has the best job in the world? That's because he does.

"So, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
I want to be a food critic.

Don't be surprised if kids across America are now sitting in front of their bowl of Spaghetti-O's saying: "Mom, I think the noodles are simply divine, the sauce is out of this world, but the atmosphere is lacking a little 'je ne sais que.'"

The World Cup

I wrote this for a magazine called "Upbeat Chicago" in 1993. I was very pumped about the World Cup coming to America (in 1994). When it finally arrived, I went to every game I could. (Including the Opening Ceremonies, where Oprah fell through a hole in the stage--that was worth the price of admission.)




A Tale of Two Topics
by Rick Kaempfer


It is the best of times....

It's time to come out of the closet. I'm ready to accept the ridicule. I am a die- hard soccer fan. Now, hold it right there. Some of you have already written me off as some kind of communist or flower-smeller. What follows is for you. I am like you in many ways. I happen to love All-American Apple-Pie sports.

For instance, I can lose myself in the joy of baseball. The leisurely pace of the national pastime is about as perfect as it gets. Whether I'm on my couch, or sitting in the bleachers at Wrigley sucking in the summer air and the summer brew, I'm as happy as a sports fan can be. I check the box scores every morning before I even read the front page. Yes, I admit that some people think it's a boring game. Nevertheless, I'm an unabashed baseball fan.

Just so you don't think I only enjoy so-called "boring games," let me tell you of my love of football. Quite simply, I consider the fall of 1985 to be the best four months of my life. When my friends and I get together the conversation inevitably leads to that eventful fall. We swap our favorite moments until it builds to the crescendo of the Super Bowl half time comments of Pete Axthelm, which we repeat in fever-pitch unison...."It's men against boys!!"

So, when I tell you that I'm a big soccer fan, I'm not just one of those guys that wears dark socks and sandals and speaks with some kind of funny accent.

I know you didn't grow up with soccer. You may have even tried to watch it a few times and found yourself bored to tears. You may tell me that with the Cubs, Sox, Bears, Bulls, and Blackhawks, you really don't have time to add another sport to your repertoire.

But what about your kids? Have you noticed how much they love soccer? More American kids play soccer than baseball or football. If you really take the time the learn the sport, you'll find that many of the very things that attract you to baseball and football will attract you to soccer. Don't be deceived by the low scores. There is much more to a sport than scoring. Besides, a 3-2 soccer game is the same as a 21-14 football game.

Why do I bring this up? Well, this summer something truly special is coming to Chicago, and I fear you may miss it. The World Cup will bring the best soccer on the planet, and it will be taking place right on Lake Shore drive in Soldier Field. If you even have it in your heart to give soccer a chance, this is the time to do it.

National teams against national teams, playing with emotion like you've never seen. If their teams lose, they won't just have an off-season (hear what I'm saying Blackhawks?), they will disappoint an entire nation. Remember the excitement you felt when the US Hockey team beat the USSR. The whole country was watching and rooting for the Good 'Ol USA. The winners become national heroes. The losers kick themselves for a lifetime.

It's hard to top this kind of drama in sports. So, you say you still don't care?
Soccer is still a game played by foreign guys in cute little short pants?

All I ask is that you watch it with an open mind. Observe the passion and majesty of the game that has a tradition as glorious as baseball. Learn the rules and appreciate the tactics. Marvel at the passing, the off-the-ball maneuvering, the graceful athletes performing tasks unimaginable to the average human. America's best athletes may play basketball or football, but in the rest of the world they play soccer. Check them out, you won't be disappointed.

If we support this World Cup we may have another professional league in this country. A league that the youth of America wants to see. The only people stopping that from happening are the "old-school" American sports fans. Don't be governed by your local sports-page. You don't have to listen to them. Make up your own mind. If you watch it with an open mind, and still find it boring...well, then consider me officially off your back.

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It is the worst of crimes....

Tell me if you’ve ever heard this before...”Pretty soon the criminals will be running this country.”

We see stories all the time of criminals getting off on some legal technicality. We see the crime bosses wearing their fancy suits walking out of court free men. We hear about the crooks that live a life of leisure because crime is so easy and profitable.

Of course, this isn’t true at all. There may be a few isolated examples, but the fact of the matter is criminals are not very smart.

They aren’t committing crimes because they have discovered it is far more lucrative than working for a living. They are committing crimes because they are too stupid to work for a living.

I thought I’d share a couple of my favorite examples from 1993.

The glue caper...
In the Brazilian city of Belo Horizonte, a man was robbing a shop on a Saturday morning that he knew was closed for the weekend. During the course of his brilliant money making scheme, he came across a tank of glue.
He had heard stories of people getting high sniffing glue. As he continued to fill his bag with goodies, he kept thinking about that huge tank of glue. Imagine how high he could get with an entire tank of glue! He put his bag down, walked over to the glue, put his head over the tank and inhaled. He got high. So he sniffed some more. He got higher. Unfortunately, in his glue induced stupor, he accidentally knocked over the tank of glue. He was overcome by fumes and collapsed on the floor. Luckily for him, he came to just a few hours later. Unluckily for him, he was glued to the floor. He lay there for thirty-six hours, before firemen cut him loose.

Hey, it doesn’t just happen in foreign countries. Consider the story of the Maryland man I fondly refer to as the Duke of Earl.....

Earl Lathem was one of those smart criminals that escaped from jail. He had it all figured out. He knew that the cops would never think of looking for him at his mother’s house, so that is where he immediately went. He was a little surprised when they showed up on his mother’s front porch just a few hours later. Luckily, Earl had a back-up plan. They asked him what his name was, and he was prepared with an answer. “My name is Earl, uh, Smith,” came the brilliant reply. He knew the cops would leave and look elsewhere after that remarkable retort. Only one thing snagged this intellectual criminal genius. The police asked him to spell his name. He had to admit he had no idea how to spell Smith, and he was immediately taken into custody.

So the next time you hear about the brilliant criminals taking over the world, remember the story of the glue. The next time you hear about the genius criminals taking over the country, remember the story of the Duke of Earl. It sure helps me sleep better at night.

Hats off to Harry

Milo Hamilton, the Houston Astros Play-by-Play man and former Cubs broadcaster, has written a book. In the book "Making Airwaves", he has taken quite a few shots at a Chicago icon--Harry Caray.


Among the things he wrote about Harry in his book:

*After Harry left the White Sox to take over the Cubs job, he talked to Milo. Harry told him "Well, kid, if I were you, I'd leave town."

*Milo didn't like the way he broadcasted. "He rode the managers, he rode the players, it didn't matter. He treated everyone the same way. In short, he was a miserable human being."

*When Milo was hospitalized for leukemia in 1982, Harry responded on the air that he "Couldn't understand how a guy can take time off during the season. Unlike some other broadcasters I know, I've never missed a game."


In my nearly twenty years in Chicago radio (and even before that), I ran into Harry Caray many times. Does Milo's version of Harry sound like the Harry I knew? Judge for yourself. Here are a few examples of my Harry encounters.



*In 1984, my radio station in Champaign (WPGU) was carrying the Cubs. I got to go to the affiliate reception at the Hyatt Regency in Chicago with the General Manager of our station (who happened to be my girlfriend at the time). We met Harry, had a few cocktails with him, and he nearly pushed me out of the booth to hit on my girlfriend.

*In 1989, I was producer of the Steve and Garry show. It was their tenth anniversary on the air together, and I called people from their past to relive the memories on the air. Since Harry was the play-by-play man for the White Sox during Steve & Garry's famous Disco Demolition stunt, I called him at his home (he lived in a hotel in my neighborhood). When I told him what show I was calling for, he went nuts on me, and called Steve and Garry every name in the book. Needless to say, he didn't come on. (In fairness to Harry, I called Jimmy Piersall next and he was even more belligerent. I hadn't even heard some of those words before. Whew.)

*In 1994, I was the producer of the John Landecker Show. It was the week before the strike and Harry was our guest. We told him the interview would be about two things; the strike and Harry's encounter about Elvis (a great story we had heard him tell to Bob Costas. Remember, this was an Oldies station.) When John brought up Elvis, Harry said he didn't want to tell the story. When John said he thought the strike was really going to happen, Harry basically called John stupid--saying that there "was no way in hell that will happen. There's too much money at stake." The interview lasted about two minutes.


Granted, I cherry-picked those stories from my many encounters. There were other times he was a great guy, an accomodating guy, and a fun guy. I was actually a huge fan, and I never took any of this stuff personally. For every bad encounter, there wa s a good one. In short, he was human.

So is Milo right? Probably. Is Milo wrong? Definitely.

I could tell that Harry never remembered my name when I saw him, but he did recognize my face. He called me "Kid," like I'm sure he called everyone else under 70. Heck, Milo said he called him "Kid," so maybe he didn't stop at 70. Despite his flaws, Harry was larger than life. Anyone who ever met him, remembers it well.

When he died, I was inspired to write the following song. Landecker & The Legends performed it that whole summer, and it appears on "Landecker & The Legends, Volume 5." It's to the tune of "Hats of to Larry" by Del Shannon. You may not know the tune, but you can still see my affection for him in the lyrics.

"Hats Off to Harry"
(Landecker/Kaempfer)






When I went to Wrigley Field,
And the seventh inning came,
You weren't in broadcast booth,
It will never be the same,

We miss you Harry, Holy Cow,
I'm here at the old ballpark,
Waiting for your last bow,
But it's God's Plan,
To take away the main Bud Man,
Harry I'm crying in my beer for you.

Though you mispronounced some names,
You are in the Hall of Fame,
Baseball will never be the same.

Hats Off to Harry,
We'll miss your glasses,
We'll miss you in the booth,
Checking out the lasses,
Cruel twist of fate,
Chip's broadcasting behind home plate,
Harry I'm crying in my beer for you.

Bye Harry Caray,
It's not the same,
No more Ryne Sanderson,
No backwards names,
You're the only one,
Who could make a lousy team such fun,
Harry I'm crying in my beer for you.
For You.
For You.
For You.

I also wrote the following article for "Upbeat Chicago" magazine in 1992. This is to show you I didn't just get sentimental about him after Harry died. I really was a fan.



There's Nothing Like Fun From The 'Ol Ballpark
by Rick Kaempfer

From Upbeat Chicago


It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. My wife rolled out of bed around noon, her usual weekend wake up time, and I was ready for her. The picnic basket was packed to the gills, the cooler was packed with a few frosty cold ones, and the blanket was folded nicely.

"Are we going on a picnic?" she asked.

I nodded in the affirmative, and off we went to Lincoln Park. She was still groggy and groaning.

It was time for a bribe. I handed her a book she had been longing to buy. The groan was replaced by a smile, which was then quickly replaced by a scowl when I pulled the radio out of the picnic basket.

"Are we really going to be listening to a baseball game?"

I comforted her. "No, we're going to listen to two baseball games."

I always thought that listening to sporting events on the radio was an underrated form of entertainment. If the announcers are good, the experience can be more exciting than watching the game on television or live at the ballpark. I decided to attempt to prove this to the most skeptical anti-sport fan around.

She comes from a family of White Sox fans, so I thought I would hook her more easily with that game. After all, the Sox are a better team. They're in first place, and the city is catching White Sox fever. Right? Wrong. Not this groggy little filly. John Rooney and Ed Farmer are a good team on WMAQ. They are efficient, polished broadcasters. Unfortunately, they don't really inspire the same kind of excitement as their television counterparts. In fact, after about two innings we suddenly had two groggy campers. I switched it over to WGN.

It was the third inning. Thom Brennaman and Ron Santo admittedly had a better game to work with, but instantly that excitement I was looking for was in the air.

Brennaman is one of Chicago's most underrated broadcasters. He's young, but he is also a first rate baseball announcer. He has a natural delivery, a self assured confident air about him, and most importantly, an engaging personality. His barbs at Santo come frequently, but they are done without the slightest trace of animosity. It sounds like two good friends just chatting about the ballgame, complete with just the right mixture of unabashed rooting and playful sarcasm.

The age difference doesn't seem to matter. Brennaman was still more worried about getting his box of 64 Crayola Crayons when Santo covered the hot corner for the Cubs in the 60's and early 70s. Still, he directs the flow of the broadcast. At the age of 29, he handles the pressures of the big time with ease and grace.

I found myself wishing he wasn't about to switch over to TV, but I knew it was time for the man that is now the Cubs/WGN franchise; Harry Caray. He works the middle innings on the radio. It has become fashionable to bash Harry over the last few seasons. I admit that I laugh at his mispronunciations and occasional gaffes.

I don't know why, but this season I also appreciate Harry more than I have for years. It seems he has regained his edge; his ire turns on the Cubs more easily, his cackle at his own expense is infectious, and his love of the simple things connects with the fan in all of us.

The Cubs hit a long ball. "It might be", his voice raised to meet the excitement of the game. "It could be", the cheer of the crowd reverberated. "It is!" And it was like I was there. Only better. The imagination paints a much more vivid picture than reality.

I lifted my frosty cold one to toast the man when he said "There's nothing like fun at the old ballpark."

I turned to my wife to clink cans with her. Surely Harry must have turned her around. Finally, after all these years I had created the perfect scenario for her to appreciate what I have loved since childhood. She had a big smile on her face. Her imagination was painting a Rembrandt.

Unfortunately, she was fast asleep.