So, the Cubs filed for Chapter 11. Kinda poetic, don’t ya think? But it’s like Dr. Seuss poetic, not Robert Frost or Robert Service or Shakespeare poetic. Although, this season was a comedy of errors. (Uh, for you White Sox fans … that was one of Shakespeare’s plays.)
Anyway, it just seems fitting that the most pathetic baseball team in the history of history is declaring bankruptcy. I know, I know, it’s just a technicality that will let the Ricketts family take over the club. It’s not like they’re breakin’ up the team and selling off the jock straps. Although, I think I can get maybe two or three hundred thousand people who would agree that may not be such a bad idea.
One thing’s for sure, the Monopoly Guy has got to go. In fact, he oughta go directly to jail without passing Go, and without collecting $7,000,000. That’s right, sports fans, Wiltin’ Milton took home a seven with six zeros after it. And you know what we got for that? A .257 average, a whopping 12 dingers, and the attitude of an abused rottweiler. And who does he blame this on? Us; the fans; Chicago; the best fans and the best city in the world.
Lemme get this straight. A-Rod juiced because he had the burden of carrying around a $252 million contract on his shoulders???? Awwww, poor widdle baby. I’ll tell you what this pin cushion needed: a large, economy-size dose of Vito Corleone slapping him in the face and telling him to man-up.
Every friggin’ time I hear one of these pussies whining about the pressures of the money they’re making — to plaaaaay a sport, by the way, for a cruel and unusual 6 months a year — I wonder if they’d like to step into the well-worn shoes of some single mother who cleans hotel rooms for a living. You know, someone who doesn’t have two nickels to rub together for anything more extravagant than an extra helping of Top Ramen. THAT person knows what money pressure is, my friend, not a guy with a car collection.
News flash: Barry Bonds tested positive for three types of steroids.
No freaking kidding.
Guess what else. It rains in Seattle. Yeah. And if you stick your hand in a fire you get burned. And, can you believe this? … Rod Blagojovich, a Chicago politician, is a crook. Yeah, a shocker. Know what else? If you fall out of a boat, you hit water. (Unless your name is Alfonso Sorriano and it’s the playoffs. Then, no.)
I gotta tell you though, all this hullabaloo over Bonds’ cheatin’ heart is starting to get on my nerves. I know it’s against the law and all, but I could give a crap if he lied to a Grand Jury. It’s not like he shot somebody or ‘accidentally’ forgot to pay $140,000 in taxes. Besides, everybody knows he used, so everybody knows he lied. The Grand Jury knows, baseball knows, Greg Anderson certainly knows, hell, even you latte-drinkin’ Giants fans who defend the guy know. I mean you gotta be living on another planet to look at the guy and think he’s clean. Arguing about it is like arguing over who won the game three days after the last out was recorded. The guy did it — look at him — so who gives a crap if he didn’t man-up in front of the Grand Jury?
I do believe the entire Texas Rangers pitching staff has just seen their careers flash before their eyes. Why?
Muntadhar al-Zaidi — reporter for Baghdadiya Television; right handed; excellent velocity; decent control; deceptive delivery. And he’s a free agent. Well, technically he’s currently an incarcerated agent, but I think you know what I mean, my friend.
Alright, alright. He was throwing shoes, not baseballs. And that is a girly thing to do, I grant you. But hey, the Rangers already pitch like a bunch of junior high cheerleaders, so you can’t really use that against this guy. And just try throwing a shoe compared to a hardball. No way you can control a size 10-1/2 as well as the horse hide, my friend. Plus, there was some serious cheese on those things. At least the first one. I gotta think he took a little off the second one to try and throw Bush’s timing off, but he ducked that one, too. Behind a podium, I might add.
So I figure you put this guy on the mound in Arlington — where guys can’t hide behind large, immovable wooden objects — and the Rangers just improved their team pitching stats by about 20%.
Hey there, ballot boxes. I expect you’d have to be dead to have missed all the stuff flying around about our august, soon-to-be-wearing-an-orange-jumpsuit governor Roddy, and the lovely and oh so eloquent Mrs Roddy. Of course, that’s not sayin’ much, since dead people have been part of Chicago politics forever. I’m just sayin’.
But can we cut the crap already, and drop the use of the word ‘allegedly’ from the Blagojovich story? That’s like sayin’ Bartman didn’t cost us the Series cuz it wasn’t proven in a court of law. It was on tape, pal. Bartman did it. You saw it. I saw it. Friggin’ Hellen Keller woulda seen that. And Blago? His I’ll-make-you-an-offer-you-can’t-refuse back scratching has been preserved in full Dolby digital glory. Along with the supporting, delicate and poetic demonstration of the english language by that *%@# Lady Macbeth — as so perfectly anointed by the Trib.
Regarding Manny’s whereabouts next year, I quote … “I want to see who is the highest bidder,” Ramirez said after the Dodgers’ NLCS loss to the Philadephia Phillies. “Gas is up and so am I.”
What a friggin’ a-hole.
I grant you, he’s not alone. Everywhere you turn you got guys hitting a buck-75 going to arbitration cuz they think they’re lightin’ the world on fire. But, exxxxccuuuuuuuusse me! This guy was basically asked off the Red Sox by his teammates because he couldn’t be counted on. He made it crystal clear that he didn’t want to play for Boston anymore by dogging it, and pretty much treated Epstein, the owners, the rest of the team, and the fans the same way a baby treats a diaper. Well let me tell you Manny, you are not well-loved when your team dumps you but pays the remaining $7 million on your contract while you play for someone else. That pretty much says it all. In fact, it says you’re not just a garden variety a-hole, you’re a large, economy, only-available-at-Costco sized a-hole; with a capital ‘A’ and a ‘hole’ you could drive a cement truck through.
Hey there, ballot box. So, last night, after the Phillies finished wiping their feet on the Dodgers, I flipped the channel to one of those talking head news things. Well hoo-boy! They’ve all got their panties in a wad, screaming and cuttin’ each other off while reviewing the instant replay of the game I shoulda watched; Obama vs. McCain.
So here’s my take.
Obama? He’s your Mark Mulder type — smooooooth delivery; deceptive. Plus he’s a lawyer (like Scott Boras). I trust him about like Billy Martin trusted Steinbrenner. Then you got McCain. He’s like Joe Torre — been around a while; nice guy; spent time in a prison camp which, by all accounts, was almost as bad as working for the aforementioned Yankees owner. I think he’s here for the old-timers game, but that’s almost over. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter what happens, or whether you like one of these guys and hate the other one — or vice versa — you will be disappointed in the end, I guarantee. In 4 years we’re all gonna be shakin’ our heads wondering what the hell happened. Again. High hopes followed by disappointment: one helluva lot like being a Cubs fan, my friend. Plus, I don’t see either one of them getting serious about legislation that would outlaw the designated hitter, which is what America really needs.
Alright. So you know how when your team wins the Series (I actually have no first-hand knowledge of this but I’ve seen it on ESPN) it’s expected that the city throws a big party, right? And you gotta have a parade down the biggest street with bands and confetti, and a buncha people screaming like Jesus himself is in the lead car and has just agreed to a 10 year contract for a dollar a year. So I wanna know … where’s the other side of that coin, my friend?
Leading off, Alphonso Soriano:
I am — and anyone within a few blocks of my house will confirm this — pretty miffed about what I’ve been hearing out of a few of the Cubs who allegedly ‘played’ in the NLDS. Leading off, for example, we have the always eloquent Alfonso Soriano. The other day he says, “We’re a good team for  games, but we don’t do nothing after that. That’s the difference. We’re not put together for [a short series].”