Joe Sez

WHAT’S THE OVER / UNDER FOR WHEN MANFRED SKATES ON TONIGHT’S CUBS-CARDS OPENER?

· 2017 Cubs, Instant Replay, Joe Sez · , , , , , , , , , ,

NIGHTENGALE-MANFRED-TWEET

Hey there, sponge cakes. Welcome to Opening Day — not Opening Week, as baseball has taken to calling it. That’s gotta be a Manfredism. Speaking of which … Bob Nightengale reports that commissioner Rob Womanfred will be in attendance at the Cubs opener in St. Louis tonight. My question is: When does he adios the game? I figure it’ll be after the 7th, cuz that’s how long he thinks major league games oughta last.

I tend to pick on commissioners, and Manfred is no exception. But, hey, they bring it on themselves. Bud Selig, for example, decided to end the 2002 All Star game in a tie. It’s baseball. There are no ties. And that “World Series home field advantage to the league that wins the All Star game” rule was his, too. I’m tellin’ you … listening to baseball commissioner ideas is like walkin’ your dog — you gotta bring a plastic bag along to pick up all the turds. I’ll give this to Manfred: the guy flushed the ASG/World Series advantage brain fart. But that’s it on the plus side of the Manfred board. Everything else he wants to do — most of which revolves around makin’ games shorter — screws with the fundamentals of baseball.

Some people want shorter games. Yeah, I read about that all the time. But I ask: Who are these people? Are they millennial types raised on iPhones, video games, and blaring music so loud during any break in the action that it makes my toenails hurt? I think maybe so, cuz I don’t hear people my age complaining about watchin’ a game for 3 hours. (Except for Mr. “if it ain’t broke, fix it anyway” Womanfred.) I’d even be willin’ to bet that it was Robbie’s idea to broom the nudie pictures from the pages of Playboy — another institution that didn’t need to be “improved.” I’ll tell ya … if congress wants to investigate something that’s truly un-american … that would be it, my friend!

Point is, maybe it isn’t baseball that needs fixing. Instead, maybe it’s the binge-watching, instant-gratification, short-attention-span generation that can’t spend four seconds away from their social media feeds without breakin’ out in a sweat that needs fixing. Baseball has been around for like a million years, and other than stupidly not lettin’ black players in until Jackie Robinson, it’s pretty much been perfect. It doesn’t need the pathetic DH. It doesn’t need instant replay … especially when the umps still can’t get it right. (See today’s Yankees-Rays opener.) Baseball doesn’t need a fake intentional walk, or a protective bubble around middle infielders, or a special purpose rule puttin’ a guy on second in extra inning games. And it SURE as hell doesn’t need two innings clipped off the tail end. If anything in baseball needs to be clipped, it’s Rob Manfred’s self-important wings and Noah Syndergaard’s goldilocks. Other than that, unless you wanna make American League pitchers man up and take their swings, or turn that F-ing head-banging noise off between batters, or hire the displaced Playboy models as bat girls, we should just leave baseball the hell alone, pallie.

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

Joe

THERE IS NO JOY IN METVILLE. MIGHTY TEBOW HAS STRUCK OUT.

· Joe Sez, News, Spring Training · , , , , ,

MIGHTY-TEBOW

Hey there, turf toes. Happy little Friday. (Uh … that mean’s Thursday, White Sox fans.)

Anybody see Tim Tebow’s debut as a Met yesterday? Two words: strike six. One can only hope that the rest of the Mets — all goose-bumped from showerin’ with a Heisman Trophy winner — start swingin’ just like him. Hey, I totally get that hittin’ a wicked-nasty Rick Porcello sinker is harder than a choir boy at a porn festival. And I freely admit that the only difference between Tebow at the plate and ME at the plate is about 5 inches and 47 lbs of solid muscle. But I mean, c’mon … Puttin’ Joey Chestnut in a suit and tie doesn’t qualify him to teach classes on the finer points of culinary etiquette.

Now I like Tebow. As a football player. In that capacity, I thought he got the shaft by the press — a bunch of yay-hoos who couldn’t hit water if they fell out of a boat, by the way, and who attacked the hell outta him for wearin’ his faith on his football uniform sleeve. Especially that colossal trouser snake, Bill Maher. Of course you never hear anyone breath a friggin’ syllable about players of color, in any sport, for expressing their thanks to the Almighty after takin’ someone deep, or for praising the G-man after winnin’ the Super Bowl. But Tebow? They did everything but actually nail him to a cross, my friend.

I give a lot of credit to the guy for standing up to that pinheaded crap and chasin’ his other dream. I mean I’m guessing baseball is some kinda dream. Although, so far, it’s a pretty bad one. Still, workin’ hard enough to get a shot is commendable. But at some point, I think we’re gonna have another Michael Jordan come-to-Jesus revelation, and Timmy is gonna realize that hittin’ a running back would be lot easier than hittin’ a baseball.

And if that doesn’t happen, even the geniuses running the Mets may eventually bring their heads back out in the sunshine. Of course, I could be wrong. But I’m not.

Joe

WHAT’S THE PROPER ATTIRE FOR PROTESTING THE CUBS’ WORLD SERIES CHAMPIONSHIP?

· 2017 Cubs, Joe Sez · , , , , , ,

CARDINALS-FANS-PROTEST

Hey there, pocket squares. Have you seen the “what not to wear” fashion fart from joesportsfan.com? Once again, Cardinals fans are livin’ up to my expectations. In true, sniveling, diaper-wearin’, I-didn’t-get-what-I-want-so-I’m-gonna-protest political fashion, good ol’ Joe is sellin’ a t-shirt with a Cubs-like logo and “Not my World Series champions” on it.

“Not my World Series champions?”

Is there another World Series somewhere with another champion? Last time I checked, the Fall Classic was it, my friend. Maybe there’s one on another planet or somethin’. Like the planet Uranus … where Cards fans rule, cuz it was named after ’em.

Now, I could try to write this pinheaded thinking off to a study which showed that people get more stupid in a crowd. Or another one suggesting that society in general is getting “stupider.” (I don’t even think “stupider” is a word … so maybe it’s true.) The problem with both of those is that Cubs fans are part of American society. AND we form crowds. Big ones. Really, really big-ass crowds. In fact over five million of us gathered to celebrate the Cubs’ 2016 World Series championship, making it the 7th largest gathering in the history of history.

How many fans gathered to commemorate the last Cards championship? I have no friggin’ clue, but I can tell you it wasn’t five million, my friend. I am, however, willing to concede that whatever the headcount it was surely the largest gathering of pinheads in the history of the world. Congratulations. Have a lollipop.

Anyway, go to Joe Sports Fan and take a look at that friggin’ shirt! Any self-respecting Cards fan would rather take a nap with a scorned Lorena Bobbitt and a four-foot machete than strut around with a bastardized Cubs logo on his chest. I mean, the Cubs-Cards thing is baseball’s version of the Hatfields and McCoys, right? They hate us; we hate them. So wearin’ your arch enemy’s colors is a weird way of showin’ whose side your on.

You’ll never ever ever never see a Cubs fan wearin’ a Cards logo, I guarantee you. Not and live to tell about it. Quite the opposite, my friend. For example: You know those urinal cookie thingies? Well, down at the plant we got a bunch made with Cards logos on ’em. THAT’S what Cubs fans do with Cards logos. Great for target practice.

I’d also like to point out the copy that Joe Sports Fan writes about the shirt. It reads, “We are strong. We are united. We are clothed in a delicious blend of cotton and polyester sure to make friends jealous on Opening Day as the 11-time World Champion St. Louis Cardinals take the field against a team that hasn’t won one in over a century. Sad!” Since the Cubs are currently sittin’ on the trophy, I’d say if anything is “sad” it’s that Joe Sports Fan can’t count to 1. Typical.

So … while St Louis fans are busy protesting one of the greatest sports stories in a hundred years, the Cubs are quietly goin’ about the business of repeatin’ as Series champs, just like they did in 1907 and ’08 — something the Cards have never done.

Joe

IF YOU SEE SOMETHING SCURRY ACROSS THE FLOOR, BE CAREFUL. IT COULD BE DEXTER FOWLER.

· Joe Sez, News, Trades · , , , ,

TURNCOAT-#5

A snake. A rat. A cockroach. And anything that one might find growing in the dank corners of a gas station bathroom. These are things that should hold a higher place among men than the one, the only — the ever-lovin’ lulu of dastardly, scum-sucking, hemorrhoid-inducing jack wagons — the traitor. In this case, Dexter Fowler.

That’s right, snowballs, this morning the St. Louis Cardinals (the devil’s agents among the living) announced that they’d inked a deal with our former leadoff hitter to the tune of $82.5 million for 5 years. Chaaaaaaaaaaaa-ching. The guy is gettin’ a gargantuan payday. Does he deserve it? Well, let’s see … Did he cure cancer? Did he stop the climate from changin’? Did he bring me that human ice cream cone, Scarlett Johansson? No, no and, sadly, no. But this is baseball. Nobody deserves what they get paid. If you accept that then, yeah, Fowler should get a few years and more for each one. But that’s not the real story here.

The real headline is ripped from some stupid history book Sister Demarus made me read in 8th grade, and recounted the story of Benedict Arnold — a guy who fought heroically for the Continental Army (that’s our side, pinwheels). At some point, though, he started providin’ the British with American troop locations and, as the commander of West Point, began weakening the fort’s defenses, draining its supplies and craftin’ a surrender plot right underneath George Washington’s nose. Really … how different is Fowler than Arnold? Yeah, sure … they don’t look alike, they live in totally different times, and one was a soldier and the other a centerfielder. On the surface, it doesn’t seem like they were stamped outta the same mold. But they SMELL exactly the same, my friend. And it’s this odoriferous scent of Turn Coat No. 5 that makes Fowler the Benedict Arnold of the Chicago Cubs.

First, I gotta question the decision makin’ power of a guy who snubs a $17.2 million qualifying offer from the current World Series Champion — a team that stands to compete for the same hardware for the next few years. That one thing, all by itself, makes me think the guy had somethin’ in the works — even if it was just in his own mind — while still in the throes of last season. Either that or he needs an intravenous drip of Prevagen.

“I feel like this team has a chance to win a World Series,” Fowler said. “That was a big part in coming [to St Louis], because winning is addictive.” Is that right, Mr Cockroach? What the F do you call winning the World Series? Look, you don’t have to be Einstein to read between those lines, pal. If winning was what mattered to F (yeah, I’m gonna call him F from now on, and you can make your own mind up on what I mean by that) then why jump from the best team in baseball, run by the smartest guy (Theo) and the best field manager (Joe)? What F really means is that makin’ more money than God is addictive. If he’d been tendered an $83 million/5 year offer from the Wenatchee Valley Cherry Bombs girls softball team, he’d be gettin’ his fix in eastern Washington.

Second, and far far worse … we’re talkin’ the Cardinals. Not the Mariners, not the Mets, not the Marlins. The friggin’ Cardinals! The dead-on metaphoricalicious equivalent of the British. They even have the same ugly friggin’ color scheme uniforms, pallie. Coincidence? I think NOT! Goin’ to a team in the same division, not to mention our most hated arch rival since the beginning of baseball time, is a sure sign that Fowler is tryin’ to inflict as much damage to the Cubs as possible. He might as well have marched into Theo’s office and dropped the kids off on his desk.

To St. Louis I say this: Study your history, dirt bags. Benedict Arnold eventually began openly fighting for the British. And though they paid him well, they never really trusted him. I mean, you can’t trust someone that’s so easily willing to betray somebody else. He’s in your house now, lurking in the shadows. Good luck with that. You’re gonna need it when you do battle with the Cubs.

Joe

TOM RICKETTS GIVES CUBS FANS A SWIFT KICK IN THE SNOW BALLS FOR CHRISTMAS.

· Joe Sez, News · , , , , , , ,

TOM-RICKETTS-GRINCH

Christmas is a time of good cheer, right? That is unless your name is Tom Ricketts, owner of the Chicago Cubs, Grinch look-a-like, and the guy who put the ‘dick’ in Dickens.

If you unearthed every single last chunk of coal in the entire state of Wyoming and hauled it to Chi-town, it still wouldn’t be enough to fill Tom ‘Ebenezer’ Ricketts’s Christmas stocking. Not even close. Best you could do would be to marvel at how the black of the coal is no where near as dark as Ricketts’s microscopic little heart. Assuming he has one at all.

That’s right, sports fans. This week, the Cubs announced that they’ll be raising 2017 ticket prices by an average of a smidge under 20%. Merry friggin’ Christmas. With that move, Cubs owner, Tom Ricketts — the man who brought an end to 108 years of the Chicago blues — revealed his true colors. And what an ugly friggin’ rainbow it is, my friend.

You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,
You really are a heel,
You’re as cuddly as a cactus, you’re as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch,
You’re a bad banana with a greasy black peel!

This special Ricketts box of Crayolas contains the following:

1. The aforementioned black. In this case, an inescapable black hole shade of midnight reserved for only the greediest, meanest, nastiest of hearts. Again, this assumes there’s something heart-like in this guy’s chest.
2. Gold; as in what already lines every nook and cranny of Ricketts’s pockets. (What the hell is a ‘cranny’, anyway? It sounds painful. Whatever the hell it actually is, I’d like to Garo Yepremian my right foot smack into the center of Ricketts’s.)
3. Green. But not just any green, mind you. The Benjamin, Hamilton, Washington and other dead presidents kinda green, soon to be migrating from the accounts of Chicago Cubs fans’ to the overflowin’ coffers that are already straining to hold the Ricketts fortune.

You’re a monster, Mr. Grinch,
Your heart’s an empty hole,
Your brain is full of spiders, you have garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch,
I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!

You know, for about a month there the guy had to be on the very tip top of Santa’s “Nice” list, havin’ brought so much joy to so many people after so many years. Not now, pallie. If I’m Santa, I’m spikin’ the reindeer’s preflight meal with enough Exlax to evacuate the collective GI track of a herd of elephants, then I’m establishing a holding pattern over Ricketts’s house about 2 hours later. I mean, half the city is STILL wearin’ its World Series grin. Hell … I’m one of ’em! So what does ownership do? They give us baseball’s version of the ice bucket challenge. I can just see Ricketts sittin’ behind his big ol’ desk, wringing his sweaty hands like Mr Potter, and sayin’, “Alright, alright, they’ve had enough time to enjoy themselves. It’s time to make some money off these suckers.”

You’re a foul one, Mr. Grinch,
You have termites in your smile,
You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch,
Given a choice between the two of you’d take the seasick crocodile!

I get that baseball is a business … supply and demand and all that kinda crap. And they gotta reinvest in the team if they’re gonna keep this crew together long enough to win one or two more trophies. Plus, the Cubs are damn good. They’re gonna draw. There’s just no arguing with the fact that tickets are gonna be a hot item next season. Should prices go up? Yeah, probably. But 20%? Are they gonna be 20% better than they were this year? No, they are not. They’d have to win 124 games to do that, and unless everybody else plays with 7 guys or without gloves or somethin’, that just ain’t in the cards, pal. Ricketts is gonna put essentially the same product on the field next year but charge us 20% more to go see it. Friggin’ Scrooge, man. I didn’t see the guy droppin’ prices in 2013 after we lost over 100 games the previous year. How come the door never ever ever never swings in the other direction? Cuz of guys like Ricketts, that’s why.

You’re a rotter, Mr. Grinch,
You’re the king of sinful sots,
Your heart’s a dead tomato splotched with moldy purple spots, Mr. Grinch,
You’re a three decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce!

In closing, I’d like to once again (cuz I have already) thank Tom Ricketts for bringin’ Theo, Jed and Joe to the Northside. Without them we’d still be the Chicago Cubs instead of the World Series Champion Chicago Cubs. Seriously, I’m grateful. But Tom, if by some magical reason you’re readin’ this, I also want you to know that you can take your Grinchy attitude and stuff it right back up your chimney with glee, pal. Why? Cuz the average Joe — guys like me who already have a tough time affordin’ a few games a year — won’t be able to go to any, now. Or at least fewer. So thanks, dick head. You not only stole Christmas, you’ve stolen the pleasure of goin’ to the ballpark, too.

You’re a foul one, Mr. Grinch,
You’re a nasty wasty skunk,
Your heart is full of unwashed socks, your soul is full of gunk, Mr. Grinch,
The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote,
“Stink, stank, stunk!”

Joe

PS. “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” was written by Theodor “Dr. Seuss” Geisel. Genius. Friggin’ genius.