News

IS BASEBALL A WHITE MAN’S GAME? YEAH, AND I’M A VICTORIA’S SECRET UNDERWEAR MODEL.

· Joe Sez, News · , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

LILY-WHITE-BASEBALL

I’ve been a Cubs fan since before the Big Bang, so you can imagine how, this year, it’s been pretty friggin’ impossible to wipe the smile off my face. I think it’d take a jack hammer and some C4. Or maybe some earth moving equipment or somethin’. I’ll tell you one thing: it’s thrown the missus off, that’s for sure. Why? Cuz until the 2016 wet dream edition of the Chicago Cubs, nothin’ on Earth (or Mars and Jupiter, for that matter) except the considerable charms of Mrs Schlombowski could give me this Howdy Doody face. Know what I’m sayin’?

We got a 19 game lead over the Cards, who are number 2 in our division. (And when it comes to the Cards, I think you know what I mean when I say “number 2.”) We’ve had the best record in baseball since the opening bell — except for about 5 minutes back in April. And right now, we’re 44 games over .500. If last night’s game hadn’t ended in a lame tie, and we’d have finished off Pittsburgh — and c’mon, is there any doubt? — we’d have won 16 outta 22 series match-ups so far, and 7 of those are sweeps. Point is, this has been a 100%, unadulterated, no-holds-barred, cup-runneth-over baseball season of Cubbie blue bliss. And it ain’t over. In fact, to quote Mr John “Bluto” Blutarsky, “Nothing is over until we decide it is.”

Not that a post season run is a sure thing. I mean I’m talkin’ about the Chicago Cubs, here. Actin’ like Theo is gonna sprout a snow white Duck Dynasty beard and come down outta section 503 with “World Series Champions” etched on stone tablets would be pretty friggin’ arrogant. It would also be presumptuous and assholian, which would make me a Yankees fan. Quite frankly, I’d rather bathe in a tub of simmering yak doo than be saddled with that misconception. Anyway, I think you gotta stay grounded. Shit happens, my friend. The last time the Cubs got close enough to sniff a World Series trophy, the air was fouled by Steve Bartman. Remember that? This recurring Bartman nightmare not withstanding, I think you gotta enjoy the best season the Cubs have had in everyone’s lifetime. Stop and smell the ivy, so to speak, like me. I’ve been hangin’ out on cloud 9, the Bowksi-lounger dialed in at a jaunty 73 degree recline, enjoyin’ the occasional frosty, perfectly foamed Old Style, and day-dreamin’ about how I’m gonna fit a goat on the Weber. (I figure I’ll have to Dexter the thing with a hack saw or somethin’.) The Cubs are hot. Life is good. Short of the missus bringin’ me a cigar in her birthday suit, I’m about as happy as Bill Clinton at an intern convention.

And yet what the F do I see when I flip on Baseball Tonight or SportsCenter?! Is it the Cubs? No. It’s Adam Effing Jones playin’ the race card! Callin’ baseball a White sport! Jesus, Mary and Joseph Maddon … Talk about bitin’ the hand that feeds you. That’s like a friggin’ great white shark, pal. Jones is rakin’ in $16 million this year, and talkin’ about white privilege. And droppin’ grenades like 8% of ballplayers are black. Yeah? What about the Dominicans, Cubans, Mexicans and Puerto Ricans? That’s more like 40% people of color. When is Jones gonna talk about black versus brown versus every shade in between? They don’t count? Sheesh. If I said somethin’ like that I’d have the nightly news parked on my lawn. Not only is all this crap takin’ away from the real story of the 2016 baseball season — the Cubs — it’s not even one of baseball’s biggest problems. Race? Really? Are you friggin’ KIDDING me? How ’bout declining attendance, nobody playin’ Little League, rules changes that are dialin’ up the wuss factor … If you’re gonna go all Reverend Wright on us, Mr Jones, pick a real problem. And by the way, if you can figure out how to get Cam Newton, LeGarrett Blount, and Derrell Rivas to play baseball instead of football, bring it the F on! Baseball WANTS those guys! Especially if they end up on the north side of Chicago. You wanna make a difference? Drop one of your sermons on the LeBron Jameses and Antonio Browns of the world that gets ’em to choose a diamond over hardwood or a gridiron.

And then there’s Mr Colin Bench-Me-But-I’m-Still-Gonna-Figure-Out-How-To-Get-On-The-Cover-Of-Time-Magazine Kaepernick. Are you kiddin’ me? I’m clicking around the channels lookin’ for stories about what swamp creature from the Everglades Joe Maddon has brought into the Cubbies locker room to lighten the mood, and I get Colin Kaepernick takin’ a knee during the playing of our National Anthem. Hey, it’s a free country, great, but Colin, write an F-ing op ed piece in the New York Times. DON’T TRED ON MY FLAG. Especially when you’re usin’ $100 bills for toilet paper. Yeah, we have problems, and you donatin’ a million bucks to help is a big deal in my book. Lord knows I can’t do that. But seriously, crappin’ on the stars and stripes just pisses people off (just in case you couldn’t tell). And one more thing … The cover of Time Magazine. Keeeee-ryst. I’ll tell you who should be on the cover of Time friggin’ Magazine. General Douglas MacArthur, that’s who! John Freaking Glenn! Mother Theresa! I’ll tell you who should NOT be on the cover of Time Magazine: NOT a toll collector on the New Jersey turn pike! NOT a pilates instructor from Austin Texas. NOT someone who says the droplets on their windshield formed a perfect likeness of Elvis. Not ANYONE connected with the I. F-ing R.S. And MOST importantly … NOT A SECOND STRING QUARTERBACK who throws as many interceptions as he does touchdowns.

This fall should be about the CHICAGO F-ING CUBS! I want Kris Bryant on the cover of Time Magazine. Kaepernick throws passes at 47 miles per hour. Aroldis Chapman throws the cheese at 105 miles per hour. I want Aroldis Chapman on the cover of Time. You hear me Time Warner?! Put Aroldis Chapman or Kris Byrant or Jon Lester or Joe Maddon on the cover. (But wait until we win the Series please, I don’t want you bubble brains to jinx it. If you get stuck for ideas (Does the Barbie cover ring a bell?) I’m sure the Sports Illustrated guys could send you a swimsuit model or two.)

So, is baseball a white man’s game? NO, IT’S NOT YOU STUPID PUTZ. Is Big Papi white? Is Felix Hernandez white? Is Theo Epstein comin’ over tomorrow to wash my car? Is Giselle tryin’ to make ends meet by workin’ as a waitress at Denny’s? NO is the answer. NO! You hear me, Mr Adam Jones? The Cubs are 19 games ahead of the Cardinals. THAT SHOULD BE THE F-ING HEADLINE.

Alright, I gotta go open another can of my blood pressure medicine. Cheers.

Joe

IS THAT A TWO-FACED WEASEL THAT CRAWLED OUT FROM UNDER THAT ROCK, OR AJ PRELLER?

· Joe Sez, News · , , , , , , ,

AJ-PRELLER

Yesterday, Padres GM A.J. Preller was suspended for 30 days by Major League Baseball for bein’ a total jack wagon. (Translation: an underhanded, diabolical, deceitful, double-dealin’, duplicitous, deceiving, cheatin’, lyin’, two-faced weasel.) Technically, it was for keepin’ 2 sets of medical records on his players to intentionally deceive trade partners. But ask any GM on the short end of a trade with Preller and he’ll tell ya the guy is a friggin’ jack wagon, dirt bag, phlegm wad, ass hat or some other term fit for someone tryin’ to slip ’em damaged goods.

Not to be left outta the race for the Pants On Fire award, the Padres brass, consisting of Ron Fowler, Peter Seidler and Mike Dee said in a joint statement. “To be clear, we believe that there was no intent on the part of A.J. Preller or other members of our baseball operations staff to mislead other clubs.” Yeah, right. Dry that one out and you can fertilize both the infield AND the outfield grass at Petco. Twice. If there wasn’t any intent to deceive, why the two sets of medical records? Riddle me that, Batman. As ESPN’s Buster Olney noted in his piece yesterday, Padres athletic trainers were supposedly instructed to maintain two separate medical files on their players: one for the Padres and another for “industry consumption.” I have a little trouble gettin’ my head around baseball as an industry instead of a game, but either way, somethin’ stinks at Petco Park, and it ain’t cuz it’s the 7th inning on free chili dog night.

Am I surprised? Not in the slightest. Baseball, for whatever reason, can’t seem to get past its desire to cheat. Not everybody, obviously, but there’s always a few Barry Bonds types lurking in the shadows. What’s unusual in this instance is that Preller doesn’t wear a uniform … which makes him more like Marge Schott than A-Rod in the “gettin’ suspended for bein’ a D-bag” department. This ain’t the first time Preller’s conniving ass has been hauled into the commissioner’s wood shed, either. He’d barely set foot in San Diego in 2014 when the team was reprimanded cuz he broke baseball’s rules governing workouts. And before that, when he was still with the Rangers, he chalked up his first suspension for violatin’ international signing rules.

The guy has GOT to share a bloodline with Hillary Clinton.

Instead of playin’ by the rules, he’s fixed on seein’ how many he can break. And anyone thinkin’ this is no big deal is dead friggin’ wrong. The Sox — both White and Red — as well as Miami, all had dealings with the Padres under Preller’s black ops medical management, and in at least two instances ended up with injured players. We’re talkin’ deals where millions of dollars are at stake, not to mention the integrity of the game. (As if there’s any whiff of that floatin’ around in San Diego.)

And that’s what I can’t quite figure about Manfred’s decision. A 30 day suspension without pay? BFD. That’s like makin’ Preller stand in the corner until the bell rings. There’s virtually nothin’ goin’ on this time of year that requires his attention. Plus … I don’t know what the guy makes, but in today’s “show me the money” world of professional sports, I know it’s a number that comes with 6 zeros after it. Yeah, losin’ a month of it is a lot of money; like 5 or 10 times what I make in a year. But unless the guy has multiple ex-wives or a gambling problem, he’ll hardly feel it. Will a lesson be learned? I think not. His track record speaks for itself.

What’s really great about all of this is that the Padres are playin’ .425 ball and are 20 games back in their division. Hope it was worth it, Preller. Sure doesn’t look like it from my barcalounger.

Joe

PS. Now … I gotta get back to celebratin’ the Cubs clinching the Division. I know it was official yesterday, when St Louis lost (the next best way to do it other than beatin’ St Louis ourselves) but today’s walk-off was the icing, baby. #LetsGo

9 IS A GREAT NUMBER. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT’S A CUBS WINNING STREAK.

· 2016 Cubs, Joe Sez, News · , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

CUBS-9-GAME-WIN-STREAK

Hey there, pool cues. As you know, the Cubbies logged their 9th straight win yesterday. Nine. Three times three. The square root of 81. The number of planets in our solar system. (Yeah, yeah, everybody heard about Pluto gettin’ demoted to “really big ice cube” status, but lemme tell you somethin’: I don’t give a crispy crap what National Geographic says … Pluto is still a planet in the Schlombowski solar system, pal. I think they only said that cuz they were tryin’ to sell magazines. That’s it. Besides, if any celestial body deserved to be nixed, it’s Uranus.) Anyway, like I was sayin’, we posted number 9 yesterday, and that, my friend, is a pretty long streak. It’s not 10, but 10 is cliché. Don’t get me wrong … I like 10. And today, when we get there, I’ll totally disavow any knowledge of 9. But there’s something a little too Alexander Hamiltonish about 10, don’t you think? Furthermore, everybody rides the 10 bandwagon. Hell, I’ll be right up front on it myself! People like 10. Maybe cuz it’s a nice round number. Maybe cuz it represents perfection. Or maybe, just maybe, cuz of Bo Derek. I know that’s a lost reference on anyone under 50, but I’ll tell ya … You wanna talk about heavenly bodies? Bo Derek is one you wanna land on and explore, my friend.

Anyway, as a non-conformist (Sister Mary Elizabeth used to call me a hellion and a rebel, but I know she meant non-conformist) … anyway, as someone who likes to up the down staircase, and because, as I already mentioned, the Cubs are ridin’ a 9 game winning streak, I wanna Sesame Street the number 9.

Why 9 is a good number:

1  Baseball games have 9 innings — more if you go extra innings, fewer if you get rained out. But unless Rob Womanfred institutes 7 inning games to speed things up (a moronic idea of Donald Trumpian proportions), I think we can agree that ballgames are 9 inning affairs.

2  You got 9 guys on each side. Actually there are a lot more than that, but only 9 in the line up at any one time. Unless were talkin’ that sissy DH kinda baseball they play in the American League. That makes it 10 a side. Which is yet another reason why the DH is an abomination whose sole purpose is to give a job to fat guys with no glove. Pathetic. Real baseball has pitchers who hit, so I’m stickin’ with 9.

3  Ted Williams, Roger Maris, Bill Mazeroski, Graig Nettles, Matt Williams, Enos Slaughter, Minnie Minoso, and the straw that stirs the drink — Reggie Jackson — all wore number 9. Yes, Jackson wore it until he went to the dark side. Nettles already had it. Doesn’t really matter, though. You could take everyone off this list except for Ted and the number 9 would still be one of the greatest.

4  The first World Series, in 1903, was a best-of-nine affair arranged between the champions of the older, and I might add, better National League (founded in 1876) and the American League. Of course leave it to the Pirates to blow a Series they were favored to win. The Boston Pilgrims upset Pittsburgh, 5 games to 3.

5  There are usually 9 Justices on the Supreme Court. Not right now cuz Scalia passed, but normally you got 9 so you don’t have stuff endin’ in a tie. Ties suck. I would think that even Bud Selig has learned that lesson by now.

6  There are 9 months in the average human pregnancy. That’s a pretty good 9. I mean we got billions of people on this planet so it’s workin’ pretty well. Yeah, some of ’em are jaggoffs and/or root for the Mets, and probably shoulda baked longer or somethin’. But overall, I’d say that 9 has worked out.

7  Two words: Nine Ball. Rackin’ up the resin at Wrigleyville North with a couple of buddies and a pitcher of Old Style is pretty high in the male bonding line up. Although now that the Cubs have turned into an actual Major League baseball team, and nobody leaves the ballpark ’til the last out is in the books, it’s way tougher to get in. Makes the missus happy, though.

8  It’s been 108 years since the Cubbies won the Series. But I hasten to point out that 108 is evenly divisible by 9. Twelve times, to be exact. And 12 happens to be the number of months in a year. And this year belongs to the friggin’ Chicago Cubs, my friend. You DO see how the dots connect, right? 108 years; 9 fits into 108 twelve times; 12 is the number of months in a year; this year is ours. Sister Mary Elizabeth woulda said that’s Schlombowski logic. Makes perfect sense to me, though.

Why 9 ain’t such a good number:

1  Cats have 9 lives. I have seen a few road kills in my day, though. Kinda hard to imagine the fury bundle of indifference gettin’ up from bein’ Wiley Coyote’d into the asphalt. It’s fair to say I’m not a cat person. Cats treat you like you’re the pet. And they stink. Walk into someone’s house and you know right away if they got a cat or not. Plus, if it weren’t for cats, there’d be no cat ladies — 70 year old former librarians livin’ with 43 felines and wearin’ an ugly print bathrobe 24/7. And, of course, there’s the friggin’ cat curse at Wrigley. My blood pressure goes ballistic just thinkin’ about it. Cats havin’ one life is quite enough. Nine? That’s a friggin’ horror movie.

2  There are 9 squares in tic-tac-toe — perhaps the stupidest game in the history of history. It’s fine for little kids, of course, but once you’re old enough to pick your nose, you figure out that you can’t win it … unless you’re playin’ against a White Sox fan. (Speakin’ of nose pickers …)

3  Niners. As in the San Francisco 49ers. They misappropriated the number 9 by callin’ themselves the Niners. Now, anybody who knows me knows that I don’t really give a crap about football. But if I did, I’d be a Bears fan which oughta explain what I just said about the Niners.

4  Dante’s Divine Comedy describes nine circles of Hell. I never finished it, but why would I? Bein’ a Cubs fan and all, I’ve had my own circles of Hell. Plenty of ’em. Way more than Dante, by the way. Readin’ about 9 more would be like bein’ roommates with Steve Bartman. Who needs that?

5  Nine is considered a lucky number in China. A lotta dynasties used a nine-rank system in their hierarchy, and it’s a number that’s related to tales of dragons and Emperors. Kowloon, a district in Hong Kong, literally translates to “nine dragons.” Why is all this bad? It’s friggin’ China, dude. Does Tiananmen Square ring any bells?

On balance, I’d say 9 is a pretty friggin’ good number. Most especially when its the number of Cubs consecutive wins. And let’s not forget that Javier Baez wears 9, and he’s one of the reasons that the Cubs will be takin’ home the hardware this season. For those of you who think otherwise … I got a 9 for ya. Imagine I’m foldin’ down all my fingers except one. There’s your 9, pallie.

Joe

GOING, GOING, GONE. AND SO IS A-ROD.

· 2016 Cubs, Joe Sez, News · , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A-ROD-RETIRES

This Friday, Alex Rodriguez will play his last game as a Yankee, and finally — mercifully — A-Rod’s charmed but sordid, impressive yet disgraced chapter in the encyclopedic Book of Yankee will come to an end. At least as a player. His departure from baseball is a good thing. One less cheat; a malignancy that not even the Yankees — for decades, baseball’s answer to the soap opera — could contain. And that’s sayin’ somethin’.

When the announcement was made, I’m sure the guys at the New York Post scattered like cockroaches to their various watering holes, seeking to drown their anguish over the loss of one of the most prolific sources of tabloid dirt in the history of the five boroughs. The good news for Yankees fans — and the Post, for that matter — is that you can take A-Rod outta New York, but you can’t take New York out of it’s penchant for signin’ the most ginormously colossal ego blimps to ever don a mitt. If outsized, overpriced, self-destructive ballplayers were moths, Steinbrenner’s funny farm would be a billion dollar light bulb. It’s only a matter of time before B-Rod or C-Rod slips on the stripes and starts swinin’ his dick around 5th Avenue.

I imagine it’s pretty much always been that way in the Bronx. It’s just that in my day — before Facebook, before YouTube, before Instagram and texting and tweeting, before megapixels and high-def and Pokemon Goin’ like an idiot all over everywhere — you didn’t read about who Billy Martin clocked after last night’s game. And there was no way of knowing which players were treatin’ their wives like Nerf balls, or which material girl they were shackin’ up with. Why? Cuz without that 3 x 5 inch incrimination device in everyone’s pocket like we got today, ballplayers could do just about anything they wanted, to whomever they wanted, whenever they wanted, and no one was the wiser. Hey, I’m not makin’ excuses for A-Rod, mind you — to me he’s just Barry Bonds in a New York state of mind. But they both woulda come out a little less shit-stained if they’d played in the 60s.

When I was a kid, and then later, in my 30s and 40s when George “Fort Knox” Steinbrenner financed the purchase of a fair number of championships, the Yanks stood apart from the rest of baseball. No franchise was more storied or proud or feared than the Bronx Bombers, flashin’ their friggin’ pinstripes like Wall Street bankers, and playin’ in the house that Ruth built among the swirling memories of Gehrig, Mantle, Berra and Ford. They were movie stars that could hit.

A-Rod is a modern day version of one of those guys — someone who commanded an x-rated pay check … just to swat a friggin’ baseball around the yard. Hey, if someone wanted to pay me like that, would I complain? HELL no. I’d take every penny of it.

But I wouldn’t cheat.

And this, my gummy-chewin’ friends, is where me and a buttload of baseball writers, players, coaches, announcers, front office guys — and especially fans — part company on the question of whether A-Rod is a jaggoff or not. Yes, is the correct answer. He is.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph Maddon! How in the friggin’ hell can anyone defend a guy who cheats at baseball? That’s like makin’ sixth grade excuses when your best friend gets caught tryin’ to peek up Sister O’Shaughnessy’s habit. Shameful, pal. Shameful. Almost as much as the act itself. Why? Cuz unlike any other sport, Baseball is a game that’s built on its numbers. If you don’t respect ’em, the whole 150 year tower of baseball history could come crashing down on itself — sort of a baseball 9/11, carried out by a bunch of radical baseballic juicers like Bonds, Sosa, Canseco and McGwire. And, of course, A-Rod. The numbers matter, pallie. They should matter to you, too. They are the measuring stick that transcends baseball’s decades, binding era to era, and standing player against player in a way that, over time, defines greatness or reveals mediocrity.

Or in this case, a cheat.

Look, when a guy in his mid-30s is smackin’ more yard shots than he did 10 years earlier — and I’m talkin’ big numbers here — you don’t have to be Charlie Friggin Chan to know what’s goin’ on. It ain’t happening on a level playing field, my friend, I can tell you that. Of course, if some needle-nosed accountant gets caught cookin’ the books for a NASDAQ tech company … BOOM … the guy is decked out in orange coveralls. Not in baseball. A-Rod and his ilk have been barbecuing baseball’s record books for years, and I don’t see any of ’em gettin’ the Shoeless Joe treatment, let alone havin’ to worry about pickin’ up the soap in the Big House. Why is that? Why are baseball writers willing to look the other way? Why are teammates of these hosers apologizin’ for ’em? Why are there so many so-called baseball fans willing to Perry Mason for A-Rod and the other butt-stickers who’ve needled up? I gotta assume it’s cuz most of the guys who set the REAL records aren’t around any more. And those that are were long outta the game by the time the “I just wanna see home runs, and I don’t care how they’re manufactured” crowd was even born.

SIDEBAR: These fans are the same ones that gotta have music blarin’, or human hot dog races around the base paths, or t-shirt cannons blastin’ at the ballpark whenever theres a break in the action. If that’s you, you’re not a real baseball fan. You’re not even a reasonable facsimile, cuz you’d rather be entertained by stupid crap that has nothin’ to do with the game than absorb the million subtle things that make one up. Stay home, spice rack.

Personally — in case you haven’t been payin’ attention — I have as many as zero ounces of tolerance for A-Rod’s cheatin’ heart. Not just because of the deed itself, but because he friggin’ Hillary Clinton’d the crap out of it. There aren’t a lot of liars in baseball. Historically. But, again, that’s because of the numbers. Which is why they’re so friggin’ important … sacred … holy, even. Numbers don’t lie — at least until the asterisk era they didn’t. I mean, you can’t exactly make up stuff on your baseball resumé and fool anybody: “Uh, yeah … name’s Mario Mendoza. That’s with a Z. I’ve hit above .350 all but by rookie year. Just .337 that season. Musta had a touch of the PTSD or somethin’ from my off-seasons in Afghanistan.” See what I mean? Until baseball players started shootin’, drinkin’, chewin’, rubbin’ or otherwise enhancin’ their performance with secret sauce, the numbers laid bare their relative skills compared to everyone else in the game. Roids turned guys like A-Rod into better players than they really were. And one of the major side effects for most, including Rodriguez, was the development of a forked tongue. Not an endearing human quality (although I can see how Madonna mighta liked it).

The reason this sandpapers my ass, almost as much as the cheating itself, is that lying about it insults my intelligence, which may not be in Stephen Hawking’s zip code, but it ain’t in Donald Trump’s, either. I didn’t really need Scott Pelley to 60 Minute the subject in order to know that A-Rod was a doper. It was as plain as Dolly Parton’s gazongas. The Yankees 3rd baseman sent more things into a geosynchronous orbit around Earth than NASA, and did it at a time when his skills would have long since diminished due to age. He was doping, alright, and anyone with an IQ higher than a White Sox fan would have known it. The fact that he lied about it was chicken shit at best. You did it. You got caught. Man up, puss cake. Nope. Instead, he lawyered up. Just like Jimmy Hoffa. And he comes clean ONLY when he’s granted immunity from prosecution. And why the hell they did that, you, me and the dugout wall will never know. His alleged crimes include bribery, tampering with witnesses and obstruction of justice — all stuff he did to keep the original cheating from creepin’ out from under the rug. Model citizen.

It’s not like A-Rod was the first cheatin’ jaggoff in baseball, but his insistence on lying and throwin’ his weight around the courtroom while indefensibly trampling on all the guys who played the game clean (no, that’s not you, Barry) is the height of assholiness. You combine that with his off-field shenanegans and you got yourself a model for the official bronze statue in the lobby of the National Enquirer.

I say so-friggin-long, A-Rod. Don’t let the clubhouse door hit you in your frequently-needled ass on the way out.

Joe

WHAT’S THE TRUE COST OF THE AROLDIS CHAPMAN DEAL?

· 2016 Cubs, Joe Sez, News, Trades · , , , ,

AROLDIS-CHAPMAN-TO-CUBS-2

Did you hear that, Cubs fans? That heavy metallic clunk was the last piece of the championship puzzle being lowered into position — the 99.999% pure steel arm of Aroldis Chapman. The first thing I did when I heard the news was call my mother. I wanted to find out how old I was the last time I wet my pants. Yeah … I’m jacked … sorta … and I think this is a kind of a good move. Why? Cuz it’s about FRIGGIN’ time that Binny’s Beverage Depot had an actual reason to be the official champagne supplier of the Chicago Cubs.

You gotta admit, the Cubs appear to be teeterin’ on the edge of a Championship. We’ve led or been tied for the best record in baseball the entire season. Even without Schwarber, and with various injuries plaguing a variety of players, not to mention our coin-toss bullpen, the Cubs are still wearin’ the yellow jersey as the race to the World Series is comin’ outta the back stretch. (How’s that for mixin’ metaphors?! That’s like a metaphor salad, my friend.) Adding Chapman and movin’ Rondon to a set-up position means that Theo is pretty serious about roastin’ some billy goat in October.

Naturally, there’s a Mount Everest sized pile of second guessing goin’ on — everything from Chapman’s domestic violence history to what the Cubbies gave up to get the Usane Bolt of pitchers.

That’s fair. I mean personally, I have zero tolerance for guys with OJ tendencies, so tradin’ for one who was suspended for that very thing, AND it involved a gun … well … that’s a pond I don’t wanna fish in, pallie. Full disclosure — I’m uncomfortable about it. My hope is that Ricketts made it crystal-friggin-clear that crap like that won’t be tolerated. Of course if it happens again it’s already too friggin’ late. There will forever be a link between the Cubs desire to win takin’ precedence over steerin’ clear of a guy who smacks women around. 108 years is a long drought, but is this a gamble you wanna take to put an end to it? Except for the bullpen, we’ve got all the signs of waltzin’ into the Series and maybe winnin’ the damn thing … without Chapman. Besides, the Cubs have never been a “win at all costs” kinda franchise. (No shit.) Does this move forever change their soul; makin’ it as evil and black as the Yankees’ is? Can’t say I like havin’ to even contemplate that. Justification comes in the form of Chapman’s clean record since being reinstated, and sits defiantly under the flag of second chances Ricketts has hoisted. I don’t think there’s any doubt that Chapman improves the pen, thus the team as a whole. But at what cost to their reputation?

There’s also that whole “we kept him from goin’ to a team we might have to face in the playoffs” distorted mindset. That’s pretty Hillary Clintonesque logic. Doin’ somethin’ you don’t believe in, cuz if you don’t somebody else will, is the worst kinda political acrobatics there is. The last thing I want is for the Cubs to turn into the New England friggin’ Patriots.

The other thing that’s gettin’ batted around — and not in a nice way — is that we gave up Adam Warren, minor league outfielders Billy McKinney and Rashad Crawford, and the jewel of the bunch, minor league shortstop Gleyber Torres (the top prospect in the Cubs organization) in exchange for a 2 month rent-a-closer. A lotta experts out there are treatin’ that like the Jim Fregosi for Nolan Ryan deal. Now that was a bad trade, pallie. But talent-wise, the Cubs are like Pacific Ocean deep across the board, so givin’ up prospects — even one with Torres’s potential — doesn’t leave me scratchin’ my head. Or anywhere else for that matter. It woulda been different had we made the deal with someone in our division, but we didn’t.

The main argument against this move (besides Chapman’s violent pinheadedness) is over aggregate value. A conservative estimate for a talent like Torres is that he’s worth 15 or 20 WAR in his first 6 seasons in the Show, while Chapman may be worth just 1 through the rest of this season. Before you even get to Warren, McKinney and Crawford, that makes this deal look pretty bad for the Cubs. But that’s a pretty stupid debate: 1) Torres is 19 and ain’t even in the big leagues yet, 2) WAR is a stupid way to measure closers, and 3) If Chapman can do his 105 mile and hour blind-the-hitters thing, and we win the Series partly because of it, who gives a flying Wallenda if we traded away the farm? The Chicago Cubs will have achieved the be-all end-all of baseball existence for the first time in 108 years!

So … was this a good trade? Was it money and players and conscience well spent? After last night’s bullpen-induced loss against the White Sox, I’m leanin’ in the “yes” direction.

Joe