Coppock On Books: "Fat Guys..." Reviewed And A Dozen Great Chet One-Liners
By Karl Klockars in News on Oct 7, 2009 6:20PM
Sports radio pioneer and consummate athletics-savant Chet Coppock's new book, "Fat Guys Shouldn't Be Dancin' at Halftime" is everywhere this month, from Borders to Costco. Chet himself is on a Chicago news program or talk show pretty much every hour, on the hour, hawking this tome of encyclopedic local sports knowledge.
But: Has anyone in the media actually read the book?
We have. And it's a pull-no-punches festival of shit-talking towards bad fans, terrible front office executives, horrible players, clueless TV reporters, and everyone else who's ever raised the ire of Chet during his long career, and that includes himself as well - Chet has always been in on the joke. It's also a love letter to the sports teams that he's covered and loved for his entire professional life, which dates back decades. If you can't hear the man's enthusiasm for sport, you're just not listening.
Is it a perfect book? Of course not. Parts of the book tend to recycle information and lines from other parts we've seen earlier (repeated references to Crane Kenney and Megan Mawicke come to mind), which is no surprise since the list of chapters cover some similar ground. But they were no doubt written out of sequence and off the top of whatever happened to pop into Coppock's head at the time, then reorganized into section by sports.
It's also damn near two books in one - at almost 300 pages, Triumph Books could have chopped this in half and built in a sequel easy-peasy. But Chet has never been known to self-edit very well (despite the fact that he's somehow keeping himself to 140 characters on his twitter account). At points it becomes a bit of a marathon effort, forcing the reader to say to themselves, "How much more does this guy really have to talk about?" Answer: About as much as Chet wants.
Still, it's a must-read for anyone who considers themselves a fan of Chicago sports, if only to expose yourself to a rundown of what every Cubs, Sox, Bears, Hawks, Wildcats, Irish, Sky and even Packers fan needs to do to truly know and appreciate the games they love. Coppock's voice comes through loud and clear on the page, and it's still a finely honed tool of communication.
Here are a randomly selected number of quotes from the book which will very likely reinforce any opinion you may have about Chet Coppock. If you like him, you'll enjoy any of these one-off chunks of wisdom. If you think he's a self-important asshole, these lines probably won't change your mind...but you might still get a laugh out of them.
On letting go of the '85 Bears:
If I want you to drop the addiction, I guess I have to wean you off the memories. We will only deify Mike Ditka four days a week. Let's put it in these terms - Mike's so damn big in this town that if he were booked on six counts of arson, Richie Daley would personally hand-deliver the bail money. Richie knows you can screw the folks in Bucktown, but you can't screw Ditka.
On Northwestern football:
Convinced that because Charlton Heston, noted actor and gun freak, attended their school, the world owes them a sell-out. When the 'Cats do try to hustle their footballers, they generally come up with lifeless slogans like "Go Wild." Go see a Northwestern football game. Remember, if you don't there's a hell of a chance that nobody else will either.
On Bears QBs:
God, I've seen brutality - that's brutality over 6 decades. You think Rex Grossman was treated worse than dirt? Do you remember Bob Avellini? He got booed at the Burger King drive through window.
On that infamous fur coat:
For years I've worn a raccoon coat. Why? It produced great talkability and if Red Grange could wear one so could I. (Okay, an oversized ass and a great deal from York Furrier may have been more important to me than the fashion sense of the old red head.)
On Bears tailgating:
Why is there a certain portion of our local populace that figures a day of tailgating at a Bears game isn't full and complete unless they vomit on your North Face parka?...If you're going to be completely slopped up by 9:30, just stay home in your garage, turn on the engine and - please - lower the door.
On reporting:
If a keen, penetrating interviewer like WBBM's Vince Gerasole sticks a microphone in your face and says, "Who's gonna win?" Give him this sane, logical, and thoughtful reply, "The team that scores the most points, you illogical, witless testament to misery." You may then call security.
On "dibs:"
We're a city of deal makers, power players, crooked politicians, wise guys collecting "street tax," and aldermen on the take. We're also a city where wintertime dibs is a way of life. Dibs is an old dining-room chair, a busted baseball bat or a $20 golf back, locked in a street-side snowdrift and making a reasonably strong statement of intent: Park here after 5:00 PM and my psychotic brother-in-law will tattoo your head with a bowling ball.
On Eddy Curry:
Eddy should be a billboard: "I am all things wrong with the NBA."
On Jay Mariotti:
Why was Mariotti so hot for Sosa? Easy. Adam Katz, Sammy's agent, fed Mariotti stories on Sosa in the same adorable way that young children feed dog biscuits to collies.
On hockey fights:
I loved [Blackhawks defenseman Keith Magnuson], but he never met a fight he couldn't leave with four face cuts and a chipped molar. You think Maggie didn't love to brawl? He would have gone 15 rounds with Joe Frazier over a lunch check.
On Roller Derby / The Windy City Rollers:
This is a pretty good marketing twist. The Manic Attackers just don't hop on the track until they hear their fight song, "Raining Blood" by Slayer. You're right, the Beach Boys harmonizing on "California Girls" wouldn't play in this neck of the woods. I really hope the league jells, if only to pay tribute to retired Fury star "Tall Drinka Slaughter." Be honest. Don't you just love these names? They remind me of a bygone era when a popular local stripper worked various joints under the name "Princess Sockeetomee."
On Harry Caray:
Once had the gall to tell me he didn't see himself as "controversial." That's the kind of cool that reminds me Harry once called White Sox President Eddie Einhorn a "lyin' bastard." He knew during his WGN years that every time he appeared on my radio show, he was violating the terms of his contract. Harry interpreted that to mean he would do my show, or any fuckin' show in the city, whenever he damn well felt like it.