I hate to say I told you so, but I friggin’ told you so.
We just lost 2 outta 3 to the Giants — one of the worst teams in baseball — after dressin’ up like a biker gang on the trip out to the coast. Another one of hippie manager, Joe Maddon’s, let’s-have-some-fun-cuz-playing-pro-ball-ain’t-fun-enough theme’d dress-up brain farts.
Having fun now, Joe?
I hate losing. Ask the missus. And losing to the Giants is the worst. Why? Cuz they’re so far outta first place (35 games) it’s like the baseball version of gettin’ lapped. Losing to them actually physically hurts … like having your nards in a vice grip. The bottom line is that this dress-up thing is every synonym for “stupid.”
Why? Lot’s of reasons. Not the least of which is that the Cubs did the same damn thing on their first trip to the left coast this season, only instead of bikers they dressed like Ron Burgundy on account of they were going to San Diego. (If you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about, watch the movie.)
We got swept. By the Padres. Also one of the worst teams in baseball. But did we learn anything from that experience? Based on the biker thing, no we did not.
Acting like a bunch of teenage girlies ain’t helping the Cubbies get back to the Series. It’s childish, moronic and, quite frankly, it’s a colossal embarrassment. If you act like a Major League ball club, you at least have a chance of playin’ like one. From what I have observed, you dress up like Ron Burgundy or the Hell’s Angels, you play ball like ’em.
Pull your heads out, Chicago!
You had 108 years between Championships. That’s not a dry spell, it’s a friggin’ Death Valley spell. Hey Joe, Maddon, that’s not fun for us fans! You wanna have some fun, Joe? Flush the Pretty Pretty Princess routine and try focusing on winnin’ ballgames. I’ll bet the friggin’ Dodgers are having fun. Are they prancing around in onesies? No, they are not. But they’re doing a shit load of prancin’ around the bases. (Yes … they prance. They’re from LA.)
What the Cubs don’t realize is that they get to play dress-up almost every day. They have the privilege of donning the uniform of Chicago Cubs. That oughta be enough.
Of course I could be wrong. But I’m not.
Hey there, tire irons. I’ll say this; since comin’ back from the break, the Cubs have been flashing a bit of last year’s magic. And if you’re gonna do any flashing, San Francisco is definitely the place to do it, my friend. They showed just enough of their former selves to beat the G-men last night, which was one helluva lot better than the Sunday spanking we took at the hands of a real team — the Nats. The Cubs were this close to takin’ the home series against Washington, thanks to the nuclear powered bat of Wilson Contreras (again) and a little Lackey wizardry. But instead, the Cubs decided to reach into that black hole of surprises they call a bullpen and pull out a whimpering defeat. I bet Lackey was thrilled. It was another crap performance by what continues to be one of the biggest question marks in baseball — the Cubs relief staff. Even worse is how this kinda play is rewarded. Yep … another Joe Maddon costume party. Incredible. I mean is this a Major League baseball team or a bunch of Girly Scouts on a sleep over?!
I hate beatin’ a dead horse — unless it friggin’ deserves it, like if it keeps wanting to dress like a donkey or somethin’ — so I just gotta re-register my position on the nine kinds of stupid this themed road trip thing is.
First, I love Joe Maddon. I coulda given him a sloppy wet kiss last November 2nd. Without Joe, I think we’re on a 109 year losing streak. And I think the way he’s able to relate to players has worked pretty well. We’re Series Champs, after all, and you can’t argue with that. Still, I can’t get past the fact that these themed road trips come from the same mind that drove the Cubs into the winner circle, nor the stated reason for them — Joe wants his players to have more fun. MORE FUN?! These guys play a friggin’ game for a living. And by “living” I mean you’ve got over 160 million bucks gettin’ split just 25 ways. Not equally, but holy craptoids … if they’re not havin’ enough fun playin’ a game and makin’ a king’s ransom for doin’ it, something is rotten in Denmark, not to mention Wrigleyville. Dressin’ up like Ken dolls ain’t gonna fix that.
Second, we’re just a half game up in the Central. Now if we had … say … a 15 game lead and everything was going along swimmingly (By the way, what the hell does swimming have to do with somethin’ doing good. Never understood that one. Of all the exercises I’ve ever done — swimming is maybe the toughest. Bowling, for example, would be way easier. Like we should say “bowlingly” rather than “swimmingly.”) Anyway, like I was sayin’, if we’re basically on autopilot cuz we’re obviously the class of baseball, like we were last year, then maybe … MAYbe … you can do the Pretty, Pretty Princess thing. But if you’re grasp on the Central Division is limited to your fingernails, what the hell are you doin’ prancing about the country like bikers? (The theme for this trip is “Easy Rider.”) Not to mention the fact that this season has been about as “easy” as gettin’ to third base with Sister Mary Whatchyamicallit, so it’s not even is the same zip code as reality.
Or is the whole “Easy Rider” thing an arrogant slap in the face to the Giants who, at 44-69 are stinkin’ up all of northern California. Other than the Cards and the White Sox, I can’t think of another team I’d like to slap in the face more than the Giants but, to me, this would just be tempting fate. Are we a better team that San Francisco? Yeah, sure we are. We’re we a better team than the Pads the last time we played dressed up on our ride to the west coast? Also yeah. And what happened? We got SWEPT, pallie.
I’m also wonderin’ if anyone gave some thought to the fact that biker gangs — not all of ’em, but some — tend to be associated with things like chains, brass knuckles, knives, guns and words like “melee.”
But what the hell do I know? After all, I picked the Cubs to win 110 games this year so no one is gonna confuse me with Bob Costas or anything. Still, if the Cubbies go undefeated the rest of the season, my prediction is still golden. There’s a zero game margin of error, which is thin, I grant you, but it’s still matheMAtically possible. Of course it’s also mathematically possible for Scarlett Johansson to deliver my next Malnati Classic wearin’ nothin’ but her smile. I’m not countin’ on either one. (Full disclosure; if I was forced to pick between the Cubs repeatin’ and the human lollipop pizza delivery, I may have to do with the latter. I’m just sayin’.)
In the end, all I can hope is that this “biker” thing continues to do somethin’ for the Cubs in San Francisco. Besides gettin’ them a free pass to the Castro.
PS. And in reference to Maddon’s comment, “For the group that doesn’t understand it, that’s too bad that you forgot what it’s like to be a kid,” I say bit me, Joe. What I understand is that you think playin’ dress-up games is gonna help you get back to the Series. I say drivin’ in runs and not giving up grand salamis in the 9th is a better strategy. I also remember just fine what it’s like to be a kid. And in my neighborhood, you could get the livin’ crap beat outta you by playin’ dress-up.
C’est la vie. Forgive and forget. Que sera sera.
That’s the sound of the Chicago Cubs gettin’ all moist over Steve Bartman, and handing over about a nine million carat diamond encrusted World Series ring to the guy.
And that’s the sound of me, Joe “the elephant” Schlombowski — a nickname I got cuz I never, ever, ever, never forget. (Also cuz I’m tippin’ the scales somewhere between ‘hippo’ and ‘elephant’. “Round up,” the missus always says.) Anyway, I’m standin’ here scratchin’ my noggin, wonderin’ why … WHY … that human skid mark is gettin’ a Series ring. Unless it’s a Rodeo Drive kinda “thank you” for stayin’ the hell away from the ball park during last season’s Series run, I’m at a loss to explain it.
Not that any fan should get a World Series ring … but you’re tellin’ me there’s not one other Cubs fan … not one … that’s more deserving than Bartman, the guy who singlehandedly tacked on another 13 years of “wait until next year” to the longest losing streak in the history of sports?! There’s not some 90 year old granny that hasn’t missed a game since FDR was in the White House? None of the hawkers sweatin’ out the Chicago summers in the Friendly Confines have any merit? Not a single, gear-wearin’ human Cubs billboard who’s faithfully returned, year after disappointing year, to drop thousands on seats, dogs, beers and nachos buried in that melted cheese crap have given more for a ring? And what about Bill Murray for chrissakes?!
Whatever Bartman deserves, it sure as hell ain’t a World Series ring, my friend. A few things come to mind:
1. A unmentionable rash.
2. An atomic wedgie.
3. Six weeks on a desert island with the Village People.
3. A one-way, all expense paid trip to Syria.
4. Three minutes in a cage with Stipe Miocic.
5. Bullet ants.
6. A full body wax.
7. Eight non-stop hours on the “It’s a Small World” ride at Disneyland.
And imagine if you’re Bartman for a second; disguise and all. (Humor me.) Are you seriously gonna wear that damn thing in public? “Hey, look what I got for derailing the Cubs in 2003!” I would predict more death threats.
Full disclosure: Bartman didn’t act alone. 2003’s horrific collapse against the Marlins took some wicked crappy pitching and brain-dead play on the part of the Cubs for the wheels to come off. But Bartman was definitely standin’ on the side of the road with a lug wrench in his sweaty little paws.
I guess this gesture by Cubs management is some sort of parole. Bartman has served 13 years for murdering a season — long enough according to Ricketts. And maybe he’s right.
Then again, maybe he’s not.
Personally, I’m still a big fan of an atomic wedgie for Bartman. Seems much more fitting than a World Series ring.