Ode to a rant

 Lee Elia shuffled off this mortal coil yesterday, which will mean nothing to those of you who don't live and die with the northsiders in Chicago, and even less to those who have the standard American memory span here in 2025.

Which is to say, if it didn't happen before noon today, it didn't happen.

Well, Lee Elia's moment in the (bleepin') sun didn't happen today. It happened in (bleepin') 1983. Which is a (bleepin') long time as America measures these (bleepin') things.

And if you're wondering here "Why all the bleepin's, Mr. Blob?", well, gather around children. It's time you heard the tale of the most famous rant in the history of rants.

It happened one April afternoon in the Friendly Confines, aka Wrigley Field, where the Chicago Bear Cubs were having a tough start to the season. So tough, in fact, that boos were heard in the Confines that day.

This got Lee Elia, the Bear Cubs' manager, a trifle exercised.

The official transcript of his postgame soliloquy went like this:

I'll tell you one f—— thing. I hope we get f—— hotter than s— just to stuff it up them 3,000 f—— people that show up every f—— day. Because if they're the real Chicago f—— fans they can kiss my f—— a– right downtown and PRINT IT! They’re really, really behind you around here. My f—— a–.

What the f— am I supposed to do? Go out there and let my f—— players get destroyed every day and be quiet about it? For the f—— nickel-dime people that show up? The m———— don’t even work! That’s why they’re out at the f—— game. They ought to go out and get a f—— job and find out what it’s like to go out and earn a f—— living.

Eighty-five percent of the f—— world’s working — the other 15 come out here. A f—— playground for the c———-. Rip them m————, rip them c———- like the f—— players. Got guys busting their f—— a– and now f—— people boo and that’s the Cubs? My f—— a– ...

And so on, and so forth. 

Elia went on for three minutes, and it was pure (bleepin') stream of consciousness. Almost poetic, in a way, with "My (bleepin') ass" as its rhythmic anchor. It became so legendary someone recorded a Wrigley Field jingle punctuated with audio from Elia's rant.

What not even some of the oldtimers remember is Elia sort of halfway apologized the next day, and life went on until later in the season, when the Cubs let him go. It remains the wonder of this age how the Cubs didn't immediately fire him the day after The Rant, but it was a different time then. After all, in those days Mel Brooks could make a film like "Blazing Saddles" without every knucklehead who doesn't understand satire get all wound up about it.

In any event, The Rant followed Elia the rest of his days, which is kind of a shame. He went on to manage the Phillies for a brief spell, then wound up in Seattle as a revered coach. So here's to his (bleepin') ass.

I mean, here's to him.