Elia hopes to use famous tirade in fight against cancer

Then-Cubs manager Lee Elia's 1983 tirade is to swearing what Michelangelo's David is to sculpture.

Working with the medium of bile instead of marble, Elia's improvised, swear-filled eruption captured on audio tape is an ageless thing of perverse beauty. In a modern world where we often crown the ubiquitous F-word king, nobody has ever done a better job than Elia of mixing one-syllable barnyard epithets with complicated, multi-hyphenated perversions far above the quality of even middle-school playgrounds.

The rant Elia unleashed on April 29, 1983, against "(blanking) nickel-and-dime" Cubs fans has achieved immortality.

"The (blanker-blankers) don't even work. That's why they are out at the (blanking) game," Elia said during the heart of his beef. "They ought to go out and get a (blanking) job and find out what's it's like to go out and earn a (blanking) living. Eighty-five percent of the (blanking) world is working; the other 15 come out here -- a (blanking) playground for the (blank-blankers). Rip them (blanker-blankers). Rip them (blanking blank-blankers) like the (blanking) players."

His post-game message, delivered in his office to a handful of reporters, came after a Lee Smith wild pitch let the winning run score in a one-run loss to the Dodgers. Not the jovial party animals who fill Wrigley Field these days, Cubs supporters then were a small group of angry fanatics just as mad as Elia about another loss. In a crowd of 9,321, a few heckled the Cubs players unmercifully and threw beer at them.

"I'll tell you one (blanking) thing," Elia concluded that day. "I hope we get (blanking) hotter than blank, just to stuff it up them 3,000 (blanking) people that show up every (blanking) day, because if they're the real Chicago (blanking) fans, they can kiss my (blanking blank) right downtown. And print it!"

On the eve of the 25th anniversary of his meltdown, a tan, well-dressed, gregarious, soft-spoken, 70-year-old Elia hosts a press reception Monday at Harry Caray's downtown restaurant. He uses his infamous moment as a way to endear himself to today's Cubs fans and raise money for the Chicago Baseball Cancer Charities.

"I have no idea where that all came from," Elia says Monday, shaking his head. He didn't remember going off, and wouldn't have believed his language if Cubs General Manager Dallas Green hadn't made him listen to radio reporter Les Grobstein's tape of the incident.

"When I was listening to the tape in Dallas's office and Dallas hit that button, I couldn't believe what I was saying," Elia says.

Neither could the Daily Herald's Don Friske, who covered the Cubs during Elia's year and a half as manager and remembers Elia as "one of the greatest guys ever … friendly as can be."

Elia issued an apology that same day, and apparently lit a fire under his team, which went on a win streak and climbed into second place by the All-Star break. But it was only temporary. Elia was fired when the Cubs dipped in August.

For the next 25 years, while Elia managed the Phillies and earned credit for crafting the swings of sluggers such as Alex Rodriguez and Ken Griffey Jr. as a coach for Lou Piniella in Seattle, his Wrigley Field tirade has been the measuring stick against which all other tirades are compared.

White Sox slugger Paul Konerko, a friend of Elia's, is said to play the tape every once a while -- perhaps to remind players that Sox manager Ozzie Guillen is mild. Gov. Jim Thompson reportedly played the tape to get his juices flowing before a passionate political speech.

Former Cubs public relations director Bob Ibach and Roger Dewey of A&R collectibles in Prospect Heights put together a collectible autographed "talking" baseball in a case with a sound chip. Embarrassed by the language and hesitant to put his meltdown back in the public eye, Elia says he agreed to the project only after talking with Cubs fans at spring training.

Elia says he wants to let today's Cubs fans know that he was talking then about a small group of Cubs fans, and that he still loves the city and the fans. Having survived prostate cancer (the disease that killed his father), Elia says he also wants to raise money for cancer charities.

The ball, which plays Elia's new upbeat message (an accompanying CD plays the original message), sells for $89.95 with $9 from each ball going to the Chicago baseball Cancer Charities. See www.leeunplugged.com or call (800) 581-8661 for more information.

Elia will meet fans between 5 and 6:30 p.m. today at Harry Caray's Tavern, 3551 N. Sheffield Ave., across from Wrigley. Then, he'll go to the game as a guest of Jim Anixter, longtime fan and one of the suburban business executives who wants to buy the team. He will not sing the 7th-inning stretch.

Elia, who still works as a special coach in Seattle, says he went 20 years without hearing his rant until he stumbled upon an Internet version of the audio this spring.

"My wife and I were sitting there having coffee, and we hit the button," Elia says. "I looked at her and we just roared."

Elia grins.

"The thing that bothers me the most are all these percentages," Elia says, recounting his estimates about those unemployed Cubs fans. "I'm not a percentages guy."