My dad and I had a less-than-pleasant encounter
with Skip Caray about twenty years ago. I'd been
wanting to see a Cubs game at Wrigley Field, and
the wife of a man who worked with my dad worked
in a travel agency in Chicago; she got us tickets, a
hotel room, the works.
Anyway, we were at Hartsfield waiting for the flight
to Chicago, and my dad recognized Skip Caray and went
up and started a conversation with him, telling him that
we were on our way to see the Braves and the Cubs at
Wrigley. Since this was still the period when the Braves
seemed permanently mired in the cellar, Caray said, "I
don't know why you'd go all the way to Chicago just to
see us."
I'm rather glad I didn't join in that conversation, or I'd
have told him I wanted to see his dad in person and join
in singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" as much as I
wanted to see some of my favorite Cubbies, especially
Andre Dawson (who hit two home runs that day in a
Cubs win--I forget the score).
I will say this about Skip Caray: whether you liked him
or not, he never minced words--if the Braves were lousy,
he said so.
