A Place to Hang Your Hat, Cubbie

The windiest game I ever attended at the 'Stick was also one of only five of the hundreds of night games warm enough to wear shorts. "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco" comes to mind. It was 72 degrees at night with about a 40 mile-per hour wind. The Giants were hosting the Cubs.

With the Cubs in the field, and their pitcher on the mound, a sudden gust of wind ripped his hat off his head. Now, it didn't just fall off because of a strong breeze. This was just like the old "B" westerns when a speeding bullet tore the ten gallon hat off a cowboy. In a matter of a few seconds, the hat was yanked off his head, then it bounced through the hole between short and third, evading the infielders, and hopped several feet off the ground on each bounce, tumbling through the gap in left center like a tumbleweed across the Texas desert, finally sticking permanently to the chain-link outfield fence about three feet off the ground. There it stayed, the force of the wind handily defeating the force of gravity until it was retrieved by an outfielder. A wild cheer erupted in the crowd.

Only at Candlestick.