Now that we’ve got that “Back to the Future II” prediction out of the way, here are a few truths (and not-so-truths), from the Sun-Times perspective, about the ’16 Cubs. I’d like to note that the Sun-Times likens Maddon’s “embracing the target” approach this season to George Custer embracing the target of the Sioux Nation in 1876. I’m canceling my subscription.
Joe
Okay, cotton balls, take a knee.
Is it just me, or has the tendon that connects Rob Manfred’s cranium to his sphincter suddenly grown long enough to wrap around his man grapes?
As if the bonehead 30-second clock wasn’t enough to boil the cholesterol in my blood, the Commish’s office just approved a slide rule at second base. A slide rule at second base? Are you dry humping me? I thought we already had two slide rules at second base: 1) you better slide on a double play, so the shortstop’s throw doesn’t knock your teeth out; and 2) unless you knock the shortstop on his ass trying to break up the double play, don’t bother coming back to the dugout — just leave five hundred big ones on the skipper’s desk and beg his forgiveness at the hotel bar. Maybe he’ll let you play again in … oh, I don’t know … A FRIGGIN’ MONTH!
What are we a bunch of milksop, namby-pamby, pantywaist powder puffs since Reuben Tejada made the mistake of turning his back on Chase Utley in the seventh inning of Game Two of last year’s NLDS? Utley plays hard — frankly, I wish he was Cub — and, yes, he turned Tejada into a rag doll and ended his season. But you know what else Utley did? He sparked a friggin’ four-run rally that lifted the Dodgers over the Mets in Game Two of last year’s NLDS. (God, I hate the Mets, but that’s another story.)
What in theee HELL has baseball become under the new Commish? Well, I’ll tell you, pal. We got the Buster Posey Rule at home; the Chase Utley Rule at second; and coaches reporting to spring training two weeks before pitchers and catchers so they can practice running sprints from the dugout to the mound without having a friggin’ coronary.
Hey, Robbie, you know who plays with a slide rule and a clock? College kids, that’s who. Hey, if I wanted to watch kids play I’d drive the Pinto up to Northwestern. No, thank you, Mr. Womanfred. I want to watch MEN play — hard-nosed, hairy-backed, tobacco-eatin’ men like Ty Cobb who’d wipe out a second basemen just for standing NEAR the bag. Slide rule? Please. What’s next Robbie, friggin’ Cross Out?
Joe
Tighten up, melon balls.
I got a craw, and there’s something jammed in it pretty tight. Actually, really tight, you know? Like pickles. Sardines. Like a Krakus canned ham. Know what I’m sayin’?
It’s called the Commissioner’s Office and it’s got me feeling a little salty.
Far be it for yours truly to criticize the genius sitting in that particular ivory tower, but didn’t Bud Selig retire? I kinda hoped when he broke wind in his high-back leather chair for the last time he’d be taking his ham-fisted decisions with him. (Can anyone say inter-league play, and a 7-7 tie in the FRIGGIN’ ’02 ALL-STAR GAME?!)
No such luck, pallie. It seems while I was outside grabbing some air after Selig finished crop dusting the room, Rob Manfred stepped in to give us — after, like, nine hundred years of sports perfection — a clock on the field to limit, of all things, the time a coach takes to start and finish a mound visit. I’m sorry, cheese doodles, was that a problem? I got news for Robbie: the only thing wrong with the game is the amount time I spend waiting for the Old Style vendor to reload. Other than that, the game’s fine. Leave it alone.
Let me spell it out for you, sports fans: the commissioner is going to make the game better by speeding it up. And the way he’s going to do that is by starting a 30-second clock when the coach leaves the dugout on his way to the mound? Hey, I’m all for fast games — win or lose inside two-fifteen, I say. Nobody likes their infielders falling asleep, and since they stop pouring beer in the eighth … well, I start to get a little parched. Know what I’m sayin’? But is making a coach run to the mound and back really the answer? Hey, Robbie, you think for two seconds how much time it will take for the paramedics to resuscitate Chris Bosio when he collapses on the infield grass? Hell, Lou could light up a pitcher for thirty seconds before he crossed the foul line. Makes no sense to me.
Want to make the game faster, Robbie? Lose the DH in the sissy league, instant replay, and inter-league play. And for God’s sake stop letting TV dictate when the next pitch is thrown.
Joe
Roger Ebert, perhaps the best movie critic EVER, died today. A moment of silence, please.
Thanks.
I was thinking that there are some parallels between watching movies for a living (like Mr Ebert did) and being a die hard Cubs fan (like you and me). I mean when you’re being paid to critique movies, you pretty much gotta see the credits roll in every piece of crap Hollywood dishes. And I mean crap with a capital K, pal. How ’bout Hansel and Gretel, or Oz the Great and Powerful? And lemme tell ya, if anyone knew the difference between a good movie and a turd, it was Ebert. How he could sit through stuff like that, I’ll never know. And maybe he couldn’t. There’s a rumor going around that he died from complications resulting from watching A Good Day to Die Hard, perhaps the worst 97 minutes excreted by Hollywood in the last 10 years. And I’m a Bruce Willis fan, for Crissakes!
I’m just saying that having to watch movies all the time, when most of them suck, is a whole lot like watching Cubs baseball games, when most of THEM suck, too. I mean how different is it? You pay waaaaaaay too much to get in, you munch on stuff that’s not good for you (but is deeeeeelicious), and you already know how it’s gonna end within the first 20 minutes.
I figure Mr Ebert loved the movies more than just about anything. Ditto, me and the Cubs. That’s why, no matter how bad the performances are (yeah, Marmol, I’m talking about YOU!) I just can’t get up and leave before the last out.
Anyway, you know how Hollywood is always making movies about baseball? Well, I’m thinking the Cubs could learn something from that … maybe make a few baseball games like the movies:
1. The Surprise Ending: Imagine Marmol taking the mound in the 9th and actually closing the game out without sending us all home with mild coronaries. Shocker.
2. Best Actor: The Cubs portray a Major League baseball team, instead of that t-ball crap they’ve been serving up during the longest running losing streak in sports.
3. Special Effects: Epstein works some of that magic he used in Boston on the Cubs. Not sure what he’s waiting for, but now would be as good a time as any, Theo.
4. The Thriller: One in which we actually WIN.
It would be good to note here that, as far as genres go, we don’t need any more Comedy, Horror, Adventure, or Crime. Same goes for Drama (we had waaaaaaay too much of that when Zambrano was here) and Disaster (Milton Bradley ring a bell)?
What we could use would be a little more Action. Maybe some Fantasy. Ideally, a two-thumbs-up Epic that ends in the Cubs winning the Series. Preferably over the White Sox. In a sweep. With the smallest margin of victory somewhere in the teens.
Anyway, thank you Roger Ebert for showing us how to stick it out for The Bad News Cubs. Say “hello” to Harry.
Joe
One and Oh my friends! Feels good to be sure on this fine morning after. Yeah I know, Marmol tried to wreck it for us. Again. More on that later. Let’s just keep the good feeling going for a couple more moments, shall we?
Jeff “The Shark” Samardzija turned in the kind of performance yesterday that makes you think that maybe, just maybe, those first 4 or 5 years when he pitched like a steaming turd were just a fluke. Those fastballs to the backstop … history! Those sliders that got parked in the bleachers … forgotten! It could happen, right? Of course right. Now I will admit that when a guy like Samardzija is a team’s number one Opening Day starter, it worries me a bit. Kind of like putting Mario Mendoza in the clean-up spot. And I also will admit asking myself more than once over the past several years, (usually every 5th day) “Why didn’t he choose football? He was a big football star at Notre Dame after all, so why did he choose baseball? Why, God, oh why?” But I am washing those feelings aside this morning and will live in the 15 watt glow of his fine performance yesterday, at least for another 4 days.
Which brings me to the black cloud that is Carlos Marmol. Seriously, Carlos… THE VERY FIRST FREAKIN GAME OF THE YEAR?!!! Marmol’s like the guy who shows up at your party uninvited, drinks your last Old Style, and then blows chunks all over your Mom’s carpet. Of course he comes from a long line of chunk-blowing closers, so what can we expect? Mel Rojas anyone? Dave Smith? Turk Wendell, Rod Beck, Kevin Gregg? How about the 6 fingered wonder that was Antonio Alphonseca? The Cubs could have their own Crappy Closer Hall of Fame for Chrissakes!
The misses is yellin at me to cheer up. The Cubbies are One and Oh.
Go Shark!
Joe