Todd Hundley
#1: “I’m Sofa King Wee” Todd “Did From All Those Beers” Hundley
Posted by: Bad Kermit in The Bottom 126
If you’re ever standing next to both Todd Hundley and an abandoned well, and you don’t accidentally pat him on the back hard enough to send him hurtling into the inky dark abyss, well I guess you don’t have a murderous heart. And that’s okay. I guess if you compared him to, say, a group of guys who dress up as clowns and drive across the country getting into circuses for free and then slaughtering all of the caged animals and making kids cry, he’s not that bad a human being. But when it comes to guys who have donned the blue pinstripes in my lifetime, he’s the worst of the worst. So if you can’t find it in the darkest part of your heart to send the man to his doom, at least turn to him and say, “You know what, Todd? You were the Number One Bottom Cub of Bad Kermit’s lifetime. Man, did he ever hate you. You’re lucky I’m not him right now, because he’d probably want to throw you into that abandoned well right there.” And when Hundley says, “Who the f@#$ is Bad Kermit?” that’s when you shove him. F@#$ that guy.
For those of you old enough to remember the play of Randy Hundley, you probably remember him as a pretty solid catcher for the Cubs in the late 60s and early 70s. Even if you never had a chance to watch him play, you have probably heard his Virginian draaaaaawl in the booth with either Harry and Steve, Chip and Steve/Joe, Len and Bob, or Pat and Ron.
Did you ever notice that, since 2001, all of the broadcasters have been sort of tiptoeing around something when Randy is in the booth?
Like, for example, the fact that Randy’s f@#$stick of a son spent two seasons with the Cubs taking a massive steamer on his father’s memory. That, since 2001, every time a Cubs fan hears the name “Hundley,” they roll their eyes and say, “F@#$ that mother f@#$er” instead of saying, “Oh, yeah! Good old Randy! I met that guy! Hell of a nice guy. The accent’s a bit much, but he seems like good folk.” Did you ever notice during the 2001 and 2002 seasons how, when Randy was in the booth, Ron Santo had to bite his lip bloody to keep from screaming down from the booth, “F@#$ you, Todd! You’ll never be your father! Shit, you’ll never even be Scott Servais!”
You should have noticed. The Cubs signed Todd Hundley as a free agent on December 19, 2000, to a FOUR-YEAR, $23.5M DEAL. Hundley had put together a couple of decent years with the New York Mets (including a 41-home run season in 1996 which broke the single season Met record and single-season catcher record at the time) and the Los Angeles Dodgers. I guess at the time that was the going rate for catchers who switch hit. Also for ones that batted from both sides of the plate.
I remember being pretty pissed that the Cubs were spending that much money on a catcher who was thirty-two years old at the start of the 2001 season, and who had missed an awful lot of time with “injuries.” And when I say “injuries,” I am of course referring to the rumors which swirled around Hundley during his Met years that he spent a lot of time on the disabled list with Betty Ford.
I don’t recall if it was Hundley’s first start as a Cub on April 4, 2001, at Wrigley Field against the Expos or if it was soon thereafter, but I do remember one blustery day in Chicago as I was watching the team and their fans bundled against the frigid Chicago April. Everyone’s teeth were chattering, everyone was forgoing beer for hot chocolate and huddling together against the cold. Everyone, that is, except for Hundley. Hundley was sweating like a whore in church. I imagine anyone actually at the game could have gotten a contact drunk off the guy if they were within six rows of the Cubs dugout. I’ve seen guys sweat out hangovers, but until that day I had never noticed it happening in the middle of a Major League Baseball game.
If I owned a bar in Wrigleyville, without a doubt I would invent a signature shot called “Todd Hundley Sweat.” It would have absinthe, tequila, a Cubs fan’s tears, and a few drops of failure. It would taste like ass. You could order it by saying, “Gimme a Hundley,” or you could just say, “F@#$ this f@#$ing team,” and I’d know what you’d want. And I’d charge you $23.5M for it.
Hundley’s alleged drunkenness fit in with the entitled asshole attitude he carried around his entire life. After his dad caught on with the Cubs, he was able to provide Hundley with a nice upbringing in Palatine, Illinois. There are people out there who have had a comfortable upbringing who didn’t turn into complete f@#$wads. Hundley was not one of those people. He was just like that kid at the end of your block who had the G.I. Joe U.S.S. Flagg aircraft carrier, and he never let you play with it, and when he got sick of it, instead of giving it to some kid who would play with it, he f@#$ing blew it up with an M-80. While his pet frog was on the deck of it.
Hundley didn’t help his image at all with his on-field performance. He hit below the Mendoza line in his first year with the Cubs, putting up a .187/.268/.374 line. I think he also struck out looking six hundred times that season. No? Well, it sure seemed like it. He didn’t do much better his second year with the Cubs, as his .211/.301/.421 line shows. Hundley also spent a lot of time on the disabled list in his two years with dragon-breath, a headache, cotton mouth, and a fat chick in his bed a “bad back.” Hundley appeared in 171 games during his two years with the Cubs, yet managed to compile 169 memorable strikeouts in 512 at-bats in that time. I know the Kerry Wood 20-strikeout game gets a lot of play, but I would love to watch a replay of the third strike of all 169 Todd Hundley strikeouts with “Tubthumping” playing in the background. If someone makes it happen, I will pay you with a post-dated bad check good money for it.
Hundley continued acting like a spoiled f@#$ing asshole his entire life. In August of 2005, Hundley was arrested under suspicion of driving under the influence. In his Hummer H2. With his 15-year-old daughter in the back. And his 8-year-old daughter. First, let’s get past our initial anger that Todd F@#$ing Hundley made enough money in his Major League career to be able to pay the gas prices on a Hummer H2. Never mind the fact that Hundley has spawn roaming the earth. This f@#$ing asshole had the nerve to endanger everyone on the road and his two young daughters. If you’re going to drive drunk (NOTE: Don’t drive drunk), at least do the responsible thing and take a Hancock into a tree by yourself. Don’t endanger everyone else around you.
Hundley proceeded to fail a field sobriety test, and blamed his failure on the Vicodin he took for his ailing back. I’ll let 98 Years and Counting handle that bullshit claim.
You mean to tell me that he expects us to believe that this strapping ex-jock couldn’t pass a field test because he took one Vike on an empty stomach? It’s not like he’s a 60 year old ex-NFL’er like Jim Otto who takes an hour to get out of bed. He’s 36 and he’s got a bad back. If he can’t even stand on one leg, what on earth is he doing driving? This guy obviously thinks we’re dumber than he is.
Hundley also claimed that he didn’t ask for “special treatment” when he failed the sobriety test. Yeah, right. Does anyone believe that Hundley didn’t immediately play the spoiled rich kid “Do you know who I am?” card? And when the cops said, “Who? Phil Nevin?” I imagine Hundley said, “Well, do you know who my dad is?”
Hundley went on to say, “I wasn’t driving 100 m.p.h. through the neighborhood, I was going 2 m.p.h. and just got discombobulated. People that know me personally know I don’t go out getting drunk around town and killing people, that I’m not like that.” How good of him. When Todd Hundley gets shit-faced and starts bombing around town in his tank car, at least he doesn’t intend to kill anyone. And someone might want to check on Todd’s 2 m.p.h. story. I used to work at the Brookfield Zoo, and the speed limit of the street which connected the parking lots was 3 m.p.h. My car’s speedometer at the time started at 5 m.p.h., and I had to brake the entire time to go the speed limit. The only things Hundley has ever done at 2 m.p.h. are lift a beer to his mouth and run full speed to first base.
I wonder if his upbringing had anything to do with the fact that the guy steadfastly refused to button his f@#$ing jersey. The guy wore his jersey like he had just been broken out of Fox River State Penitentiary by his smart younger brother. Christ, man. Nobody wants to see your chest hair all slimy and matted down by the grain alcohol gushing out of your pores.
As far as I can tell, Todd Hundley is the only member of The Bottom 126 who has his own anti-fan page. The page was briefly revived in April of this year, but has not been updated recently.
Hundley was finally traded on December 4, 2002, with Chad Hermansen to the Los Angeles Dodgers for Mark Grudzielanek and Eric Karros. It was a bittersweet day for me. I knew that one day the end of the Todd Hundley Era would spell the end of The Bottom 126. It has been a damn fun, occasionally-exhausting, incredibly frustrating ride. Thanks for reading and keeping me motivated to count these guys down. Stay tuned this weekend, as I plan on not only giving you guys a chance to give your input as to the list as a whole, but I also plan on unveiling the details of HJE’s next recurring series.
