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BLEACHER REPORT GETS A “C” ON GRADING THE MLB’S FIRST 30 DAYS.

· 2018 Cubs, Joe Sez · ,

Hey there, flap jacks. You know, I love Bleacher Report. Period. Full stop. No question about it. But I think the grades they handed out this morning for each Major League team’s performance so far look a little inflated; like they were thrown together by some left coast university professor or somethin’.

Not to be nit picky (well, yeah … let’s be nit picky) but I’d like to point out that you should say, “We will go in alphabetical order by city,” if and only if you actually plan on going in alphabetical by city. I grant you, I hold zero advanced degrees, and I almost had to repeat the third grade, but Arizona, Colorado, Minnesota and Texas were states, not cities, the last time I checked. I dock Bleacher Report a full grade just for not followin’ their own directions. They coulda easily said alphabetical order by location, but did they? No, they did not. Maybe they even coulda put them in order of winning percentage (which woulda made more sense, I think) but they didn’t do that either. Anyway, nuff said.

The Cubs

Following the Joe Schlombowski no-particular-order method, I’ll start with — of course — the Cubs. Bleacher Report gives the Northsiders a B-minus, to which I say, ARE YOU FRIGGIN’ KIDDING ME?!!! How does a team with that line up, that staff, that bench and a pen that I totally don’t recognize, add up to a pathetic 11-10 record? And how does that skid mark of a record deserve a B-minus? No way. I mean if you just go strictly by the numbers, they’re playin’ .524 ball. That’s average, which in the Cheap Seats is a C, pallie. And if you take into account the $184,000,000 of Grade A prime beef grazing in the friendly stockyards of Wrigley Field, it’s a D.

Boston and Houston

The Red Sox, at 18-5, deserve an A. And that’s what Bleacher Report gave ’em. Of course they also gave an A to the Stros (17-9). As a result, a pretty good argument can be made for bumping the Sox up to an A-plus cuz of their historic start. I mean if you can’t get an A-plus when you’re doing somethin’ on the positive side of historic, when can you … right? I’d think about nudging the Stros down a half grade, too. Maybe more. Considering they’re the reigning World Series champs, have been picked to repeat by certain respected prognosticators and, according to Las Vegas odds-makers, are favored to win again as well, pushing Houston down to at least an A-minus is a reasonable move. If you consider that the Stros winning percentage is a smidge under 130 percentage points lower than the Bosox, and you wanna hand the Sox just a solid A, then in the the Cheap Seats Houston gets a B. No more.

The Mets, D-backs and Phillies

What’s more, the D-backs (.696) and Mets (.682) are both playin’ better than the Stros, and the Phillies (.652) are just 2 percentage points behind. How come, then, does Houston get an A from Bleacher Report and the others get a B-plus, a straight B and B-minus respectively? If this kinda grading was going on in a classroom you’d have a riot on your hands. I will say this, though: I’m of the opinion that those fashion-don’t uniforms Arizona has the balls to wear in public deserve some sort of sanction. That could explain their grade, but not the other two. Somebody at Bleacher Report needs some detention.

The Bottom of the Barrel

On the other end of the grade scale, Bleacher Report assigned an F to the Orioles, Reds, Marlins and Rangers. Yep, so far they all stink. They’re aggregate winning percentage is .380. Having been a Cubs fan since the doctor swatted my backside, I’m familiar with that number and I can tell you that it totally sucks. I’ll can also tell you that they deserve those Fs. Where things go sideways with Bleacher Report’s grades is how some of the other crapolla teams faired better than these four.

For example, the White Sox (5-16) were handed a D-minus, but their .238 winning percentage is a shit-ton worse than the four teams swirling around the bottom of the baseball toilet that received a failing grade. Based on that, the Sox deserve an F-minus, pallie. In fact the Sox should have to repeat the first month altogether. Ditto the Royals, who at 5-17 are even worse, winning ballgames at a frigid .227 pace. Nonetheless, they managed a D-minus outta Bleacher Report, just like the Pale Hose. Makes no sense whatsoever.

The Yanks, Cards and Blue Jays

Another oddity in Bleacher Reports first month’s grades are the B-pluses given to the Yanks and Cards for their .609 pace, while they handed the Blue Jays a straight up B for the same 14-9 record. One can argue that a half a grade should be deducted from the Blue Jays just for being in Canada, but all things being equal, all three of those teams earned the same grade … whatever you wanna call it.

Needs Improvement

One last thing: How does a team with a .538 winning percentage — the Rockies — get just a D-plus from Bleacher Report while the Cubs (.524) get a B-minus? I’m thinkin’ Bleacher Report’s request for comp tickets got turned down by the Rockies or somethin’. And how about the White Sox? They got the exact same D-plus grade as the Rockies even though their record is 5-16, 300 percentage points lower than the Rockies. The Tigers, the Dodgers, the A’s, and the Giants, Rays and Nats all have lower winning percentages than the Rockies, yet each received a higher grade from Bleacher Report.

Based on all this, I give Bleacher Report a C for this early season evaluation, and say to them the same thing Sister DeMaurus used to write on my exams: “Needs improvement.”

Of course I could be wrong. But I’m not.

Joe

PS. I apologize to White Sox and Cards fans for using math that outstrips the calculation capacity of your fingers and toes.

IT’S TIME FOR MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL TO DEAL WITH IT’S LATEST CHEATING SCANDAL; REINCARNATION.

· 2018 Cubs, Joe Sez · , , , , , , ,

Hey there, racquetballs, how’s it goin’? It’s about .500 for the Cubbies so far. Not so good, but something that’ll take care of itself, I expect. What’s itchin’ my six like a couple thousand fire ants, though, is how Major League Baseball is lettin’ this whole reincarnation thing run amok before its very eyes. Of course I’m talkin’ about Shohei Ohtani, who OBVIOUSLY is Babe Ruth reincarnated. There’s no other explanation, unless he’s a super hero or somethin’. And what sorta crackpot believes in something that far fetched?!

Reincarnation, on the other hand, is absolutely, totally 100% real. Hey, if it’s good enough for Oprah it’s good enough for me and 80% of the housewives in America, pallie. Besides, how else can you explain Donald Trump (who’s actually the Three Stooges reincarnated) or Harvey Weinstein (Marie Antoinette) or Lester Holt (a deer in the headlights)?

And what is Rob Manfred doin’ about it? Not a damn thing. He’s too busy counting his fingers and toes, which is how he tracks the time between pitches. That’s what he thinks is ruining baseball. To be fair, Womanfred wasn’t part of the game when Barry Bonds was turning himself into the Incredible Hulk, so maybe he’s not tuned into the way ballplayers try to get an edge. But reincarnation is happening on his watch, my friend, and he’s lettin’ Ohtani play unfettered ($5 big word bonus) like he’s just another Japanese import that rolled off the boat from the Honda factory.

Look at the guy’s numbers:

Ohtani has got some serious chopsticks. He’s 2-0 with 18 strikeouts in 13 innings while on the mound, and opponents are hitting just .133 against him. Friggin’ unreal. Maybe it’s the almond shaped eyes and the language thing that’s throwing people. Maybe that’s why it’s hard to grasp how a white guy with a beer gut could be a Japanese guy built like a ramen noodle. But what makes him Babe Ruth in an Angels uniform are the rest of the numbers. Ohtani’s slash line is an other worldly .368/.400/.842/1.242. To which I say, Hi-ya Babe. What’s the afterlife like and can you tell me how Shoeless Joe Jackson is doin’?

The only other guy that ever played the game of baseball like that was Babe Ruth. He could do it on the mound AND at the plate. And what … there’s been like a hundred million major league ballplayers since then. So if reincarnation isn’t the answer to the Ohtani voodoo, how come there haven’t been any other two-way phenoms this side of the sushi bar? Plus, Ohtani picked the Angels. That’s right, ghost busters. After lookin’ at a bunch of teams, including the Cubs, he picks a team named for the spirits of dead people. Coincidence? I think not, my friend. Ohtani is the Babe. I’d bet my kimono on it.

Why somethin’ has got to be done:

Are you kiddin’ me? So the Angels have brought Babe Ruth back. Who’s next … Lou Gehrig? Cy Young? Jackie Robinson? I’m not sure if someone could bring Ted Williams back cuz his frozen head was disconnected from the hittin’ and throwin’ parts. But if players like Ty Cobb and Mickey Mantle and Roberto Clemente and Jimmy Fox, not to mention Josh Gibson and Yogi, are reincarnated and playin’ again as someone else, that’s not quite a level cemetery. Know what I’m sayin’?

So how about it, Manfred? Time to pull your head outta your stop watch and take on reincarnation. Baseball is a game of numbers and Shohei Ohtani already had his chance to put his up when he was playin’ for the Sox and Yanks as Babe Ruth.

Of course I could be wrong. But I’m not.

Joe

PS. If reincarnation is left to run rampant, I say we bring Ernie outta retirement.

NAMES IN A BLENDER; THE 2018 CHICAGO CUBS OPENING DAY EDITION.

· 2018 Cubs, Joe Sez · , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Hey there, garment bags. I’ll tell ya, yesterday woulda been a lot better as another snow day instead of Opening Day. It was about as exciting as watchin’ the yule log video on Christmas morning. About as warm, too. Pirates fans were definitely lovin’ it, though, and none that I saw showed any ill effects from eatin’ yellow snow the day before. I guess if you do it enough you build up a tolerance or somethin’.

Anyway, after a pretty good start, includin’ the first of Javi’s two moon shots, things went total Frankenstein-ugly in the third, and got worse from there. I don’t know about you, but in game situations like this, my mind tend to wander, always ending up in its predictable corners; 1) What’s for dinner and 2) Scarlett Johansson … er, uh … I mean the missus. I actually do mean that, too. The missus is hotter than a crate of barbequed Carolina Reaper peppers smothered in Blair’s Ultra Death Sauce. Besides, Johansson has answered exactly zero of the 4,617 letters I’ve written her.

Point is, I was lookin’ for somethin’ to do during the game, cuz the Cubs sure as hell weren’t doin’ much. So I played a little game I call Names-In-A-Blender to pass the time. I have what’s known as an elastic set of rules for this game so it can be adapted for actors, politicians, Olympic athletes, nightly news reporters … you name it. I’ve done it with ballplayers a lot, of course, but sometimes with different guidelines than yesterday. Anyway, it’s a good way to pass the time if you’re not doin’ much cheering and clapping, like at yesterday’s Cubs game.

Here are yesterdays Official Joe Schlombowski Names-In-A-Blender rules: You take the name of any major league ball player, say Trevor Hildenburger, and you combine it with another major league ball player, say Jake Lamb. You put those two together and you get TREVOR LAMB-BURGER. Turns out that’s what the red-hot missus cooked up for dinner last night, too. Great minds.

So let’s play a few rounds.

You put Jhoulys Chacin together with Matt Szczur and you get MATT JHOULYS SZCZUR. Probably as much chance of conquering the world as gettin’ into the Hall.

In honor of Harry Caray, mix Bud Norris with Tommy La Stella. That gives you BUD NO-STELLA. Definitely somethin’ Harry woulda said in some hipster bar.

Stayin’ with the hipster bar theme for a minute, combine Shin-Soo Choo and Yu Darvish. That gives you SHIN-SOO CHOO YU. Have a few Buds OR Stellas and try sayin’ that 3 times fast.

When you mix Sean Doolittle with Alex Wood you get ALEX LITTLE-WOOD. Not somethin’ you want on the back of your uni.

But mash up Evan Longoria and Blake Wood and you get EVAN LONGOR-WOOD. Much better, right ladies?

And for you guys from Boystown, there’s this one: Combine Albert Pujols and Doug Fister and you get DOUG PUJOLS-FISTER. Hey, to each his own, pallie.

Give it a shot sometime. Once you run out of ballplayers, start in on golfers, hockey player, football and soccer. Mix it up with the names of Donald Trump’s former cabinet members, and throw in the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders for good measure. If all else fails, go to your Facebook friends list.

Before you know it, you’ll be back on the El, lookin’ forward to tomorrow’s game.

Joe

TIP FOR PIRATES FANS TOMORROW: DON’T EAT THE YELLOW SNOW.

· 2018 Cubs, Joe Sez · , , , ,

For those who’ve been livin’ on another planet, tomorrow is the 2018 Chicago Cubs home opener. No doubt there will be a handful of Pirates fans who are incapable of suppressing their desire to don that hideous yellow jacket-colored swag and sprinkle themselves throughout the Friendly Confines.

I can think of only two reasons for this:

1) Pirates fans are masochists: They get some kinda perverse pleasure outta pain … like the kind the Cubbies are gonna unload on the Bucks tomorrow.

2) Pirates fans like snow: It’s gonna snow tomorrow. And even if it doesn’t, it’s gonna be wind-off-the-lake frigid — like Hillary Clinton. This is not baseball weather, my friend. At least in Chi-town. But at least we have a totally legit excuse for showin’ up for a ballgame dressed like we just beamed down from K2’s basecamp. It’s the home opener, pal. Nuff said.

But Pirate fans? It’s gotta be cuz they like snow as much as they like dressin’ like human caution signs in public. Why else subject yourself to an in-person beat down under the influence of a large Canadian low?

Whatever the reason, they’re bound to show. And there’s bound to be yellow snow: 40,000 fans, 100,000+ beers, post game revelry, Wrigleyville. Yeah, there’s gonna be yellow snow. But I, Joe Schlombowski, master of the cheap seats, implore you to offer them the best of the midwesterner’s code — be friendly; share your scarf or somethin’; maybe buy ’em a hot chocolate. And by all means, don’t forget to warn ’em about the yellow snow. (They like yellow. They’re Pirates fans. They’re likely to eat it.)

Joe

PS. You might wanna give ’em a similar warning about urinal cookies.

NOT EVEN SHAKESPEARE COULD HAVE WRITTEN A MORE POETIC ENDING.

· 2018 Cubs, Joe Sez · , , , , , , , , ,

Hey there, popcorn balls. Yesterday’s Cubs-Crew matinée was a slow build, don’t you think? It wasn’t the kind of performance you’d walk out on (which is somethin’ you better hope I never catch you doin’) but I give just a single Siskel & Ebert thumbs up for the first seven frames — mostly for the command performance by Yu Darvish, who had control of the entire cast, especially the Crew, from the moment he took center stage. But after Happ had K’d for the third time (bringin’ his 2018 total to a lead0ff hitter, mind-blowing 17) and we’d squandered I don’t know how many opportunities to yank Milwaukee off the stage — including handing them the lead in the 8th — it started feelin’ a whole lot like another tragedy — somethin’ we’ve had to sit through way too many times already this season.

“The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.” ~ All’s Well That Ends Well.

Just when it started to look like the curtain might come down on the Cubs, though, the last scene began to unfold, with unforgettable performances by Happ, Zobrist, Bryant and Lester, as well as a few memorable scenes from the rest of the lineup. But the standing ovation goes to the left side of Milwaukee’s infield, who’s bumbling performance in the 9th turned what could have been a scene-stealing 2-1 ending into a laugh-riot comedy of errors.

The final act opened without betraying what was about to happen when LaStella popped out on the first pitch. But then Brewer shortstop, Orlando Arcia, booted a routine Caratini grounder for an error, which Heyward followed with a walk. Now we got guys on first and second; one out. Baez then swats a potential double-play ball to third baseman Travis Shaw. But Shaw, blinded by the lime light or somethin’, couldn’t get his glove on the ball, and loaded the bases, settin’ the stage for what happened next.

First, Russell, who’d come in to pinch-run for Caratini, scores on Zobrist’s infield single to tie the game at 2. Nice diving grab by Thames at first, too. But Barnes, who’d been brought in to close and was coverin’ first, missed it with his foot. Nothin’ hit outta the infield yet, but the game is tied, the bases are still loaded, still just one out.

Enter Happ, stage left, who like I said before has been playin’ like he WANTS to get pelted with rotten tomatoes. But he spanks a singled to left center, drivin’ in Heyward and Baez instead. The ovation nearly brought down the house … AND WE WERE IN FRIGGIN’ MILLER PARK for Chrissakes! (I know that really pisses off Brewers fans, which makes it all that much sweeter, especially since they tied to keep Cubs fans outta Wrigley North with a stupid “Wisconsin residents only” ticket policy this year. How’d that work out for ya, Crew?!)

Still just one out, bases still loaded and Bryant, who’d singled and homered earlier, and tripled in the 8th, gets a free pass, which brings me to my favorite act in the whole damn show. The stage is set for tackin’ on a few more runs: There’s still only one out and the bases are still jacked. So what does Maddon do? He brings in Lester — a pitcher hittin’ .083 — to pinch hit. That’s gotta friggin’ sting. Most especially since it worked. Lester’s sacrifice bunt to scores Zo from third makin’ it 5-2, Cubs.

“To be or not to be? That is the question.” ~ Hamlet

Sometimes you gotta wait ’til that last act unfolds before that question gets answered, and that’s what happened yesterday, my friend. As it turned out, it was most definitely “to be” for the Cubbies. Brandon Morrow came in and swept up the stage with what was left of the Brewers, and that, as they say, was that.

I expect my whining the past week over the Cubs’ lukewarm start is gonna turn out to be much ado about nothing.

Joe

PS. Parting is such sweet sorrow. Not as sweet as takin’ a dump on Milwaukee, though.