David and Rich . . . and Mr. Submarine

We have covered some traditions at the draft already.  For a while, the Co-Commissioners enjoyed a pretty cool Pre-Draft ritual.  For a few years, before wives and family made it near impossible, we would meet at Mr. Submarine in Brookfield on Ogden Avenue the night before the draft.

Since we were competing owners, we wouldn’t talk draft strategy so much lest it lead to another Jeff Stone Incident.  We would burn off some nervous energy while talking about league things (new rules, how to run the draft in a timely manner, stuff like that).  David has a better memory for this than I do.  He claims I introduced him to Mr. Submarine at the location in downtown Chicago near the college I attended.

From there our Pre-Draft ritual took place in Brookfield after one or both of us would stop by the Bald Eagle’s residence to pick up all the accoutrements we needed for the draft that Bob would print off on his computer.

I do specifically remember calling David one Draft Day Eve while I was working security at the McDonald’s Headquarters in Oak Brook.  I pointed out I got off at midnight and could meet him at Mr. Submarine around 1am.  Sure, why not?  We were young.  We didn’t need much sleep.  Besides, who can sleep on Draft Day Eve Night?  Not us.

Mr. Submarine has followed us across the city for more than just the Pre-Draft Ritual.  There were many a Friday or Saturday evening when we would stop in Mr. Submarine on our way to or on the way home from The Roxy where we would watch Four Guys Standing Around Singing perform.  We combined an old favorite (Mr. Submarine) with our new obsession (A Cappella music – specifically the Four Guys).  We even tried to have the Four Guys as the Official Music Group of the CFCL.  We approached Noah Budin (baritone) and said something to the effect of “We want you guys to be our official music group.”  Noah responded somewhat bored “You’ll have to talk to our manager.”  Ah well, it wasn't really an offer to hire them.  It was more a couple of guys who were obsessed with these local celebrities.

As the saying goes, “All good things must come to an end”.  Eventually life got in the way from our midnight forays to Mr. Sub.  At least we’ll always have Brookfield.