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STROP IS LIKE A BOX OF CHOCOLATES: YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GONNA GET.

· 2018 Cubs, Joe Sez · , , , , ,

Hey there, swizzle sticks. I hate to be judgmental with 159 games left to play, but if I wasn’t, you might not recognize me. Plus, after splittin’ with the Fish today instead of frying ’em up and feeding ’em to some feral cats, I’m not exactly feeling like the Easter Bunny. So, with the season’s umbilical cord still attached, I think it’s time somebody (me, for instance) asked a really obvious question: What the hell is Pedro Strop still doin’ on the Cubs?

To me, that’s like askin’ where astrophysical neutrinos come from, cuz the answer is the same: Nobody knows.

Bringin’ Strop into a game is a total crap shoot, and more often than not, without the “shoot” part. And yesterday was no exception, pallie. Yeah, the guy escapes with the win. Party on, Garth. But that was cuz of Bryant’s base-clearing double in extras, and the setting of the table before it, not cuz Strop came in and exerted his willful authority over the Fish. Hardly. We wouldn’t have even been in extras if Strop hadn’t given up a game-tying hit in the 8th.

Full disclosure: Darvish did his part, too, givin’ up all the hard work our bats did before he was yanked in the 4th (which was waaaaaaay too late, in my opinion. He wasn’t sharp, and anyone payin’ attention to his pitch location could see that he was havin’ a ton of trouble stayin’ in the Miami zip code. Maddon shoulda yanked him sooner.

But the jury is still out on Darvish. Strop, on the other hand, is in his 6th season with Chicago, and has pretty much painted a full color self portrait for us already. Has he had flashes of brilliance? Absolutely. Is he single-handedly responsible for narrowing the coronary arteries of every Cubs fan alive? Also absolutely. Strop is a high trans-fat diet in pin stripes. And that’s what drives me up the ivy covered wall, pal — the fact that he’s so friggin’ unpredictable.

I think his stuff can be pretty darn nasty at times. But he routinely has a serious problem findin’ the strike zone. And when he does, it’s often the part where the hitter happens to have put his bat.

Strop’s WHIP in 2017 was the worst he’s had since joining the Cubs in 2013. Not a good trend. Still, he’s thrown 272.2 innings over that period and racked up 320 strike outs. By itself that’s pretty awesome. But he’s also given up 173 hits, 107 walks, thrown 29 wild pitches and plunked 19 batters along the way. Not exactly Greg Maddux. What makes it worse is those things often seem to come at the most inopportune moments for the Cubs, which compounds their effect.

I gotta hope Theo sees somethin’ in Strop that us mortals can’t, and that he expects it to come out in its full glory this season. Of course, I also hope that Scarlett Johansson is hawkin’ sausages in my section in her full glory for the home opener. Maybe just some Jimmy Choo’s. I’m not sure hope will be enough in either instance.

Joe

PS. (Which in this case stands for Pedro Strop) put your friggin’ hat on straight.

ENOUGH WITH THE SLOPE STYE, TRIPLE LUTZ HALF PIPES. IN CHI-TOWN, IT’S TIME FOR SOME FRIGGIN’ BASEBALL.

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

Hey there, toe loops. Joe Schlombowski comin’ at ya from PyeongChang via my Barcalounger, where I ask you: Is curling a sport? I’m still wrestling with that one. Speaking of wrestling — which IS a sport — I would totally like to see Sumo Slope Style introduced at the Winter Olympics — two 400 lb Michelin Men slidin’ down opposing snow covered hills in their diapers, then catapulted off the jump towards each other at 30 miles an hour, where they’d meet in mid air. KER-SPLAT! Whoever lands on his feet with his diaper intact wins. Friggin’ awesome!

Except for that dream I had the other night where that human popsicle, Scarlett Johansson, was my partner in Pairs Luge (another Olympic sport I’d like to see) Sumo Slope Style would definitely be my favorite new Olympic sport.

Anyway, I don’t know if curling is a sport.

Is bowling a sport? Cheerleading? Competitive eating, pool, frisbee golf? Regular golf? If those are sports then I guess you’d have to say, yes, curling is a real sport. If, however, you think curling is more like darts — a game played in bars by guys built like me — then, no, it’s not a sport. Oh, and if I alienated any golfers, just remember this: If you’re wearin’ slacks when you do it, it ain’t a sport.

Neither is any activity that has “twizzles” as a mandatory element. Real sports don’t have them. Hockey? No twizzles. Basketball? Nope. Baseball? Give me a friggin’ break, pal. Baseball has the hit-and-run, the suicide squeeze and stealing. Ice dancing, on the other hand, has twizzles … and stuffed animals thrown on the ice at the end. Baseball has Jon Miller. Ice dancing has Johnny Weir. (The “d” was omitted for obvious reasons.) And don’t even get me started on the uniforms. I mean … I have no friggin’ idea what the hell those ice dancer guys are wearin’, except to say that I’m pretty sure RuPaul has somethin’ to do with it. Then again, I could say the same thing about the D-backs uni’s.

After 2 weeks, I’m sort of all Olympic’d out.

It’s friggin’ endless. Like a Nancy Pelosi speech on snow. Don’t get me wrong, my friend. I think anyone goin’ 90 miles an hour on solid ice, head-first with nothin’ but their wits deserves a medal just for tryin’ it. And it oughta be made of brass to match the balls it takes to do something that insane. But holy craptoids! Enough with the twizzles and back-side McTwisted Salchows already! According to my commemorative Ernie Banks watch, the clock is about to strike baseball season. And that’s another thing. Baseball has a season — 162 games. And then the playoffs are bolted on to the end of that. The Olympics? A sissy 18 days. Keeee-ryste … I’ve taken dumps that have lasted longer than that.

NBC: The broadcast equivalent of yellow snow.

I’ve spent so much time yellin’ at my flat screen the past couple of weeks, I’m startin’ to think I’ve been possessed by Sam Kinison. Why? Cuz NBC’s Olympics coverage is a lot less about servin’ up the Games than it is about a diabolical experiment to figure how many commercials per hour humans can watch before they friggin’ explode. I lost count, but I think it’s about 600. Yeah, I know that’s impossible. But then so are Tara Lipinski’s chances of ever gettin’ her forehead to move again. If there was a gold medal for Botox, she’d own it, my friend. On the plus side, when the commentator thing dries up, she’s got a big career as a mannequin.

I just thank the good Lord that MLB, TBS and FOX bring us Major League Baseball. Are we’re stuck with that halfpipe, Joe Buck, for the playoffs? Yeah. But in a side-by-side comparison with NBC’s booth jockeys, he’s friggin’ Harry Caray. Which bring me to my favorite event — baseball.

So we missed a few gates last year. BFD.

Things got pretty ugly in La La Land last year, and not just for that triple lutz, Harvey Weinstein. The Cubs were like a bobsled team without a sled; a Lindsey without the Vonn; a curler without any stones! Any, hoooooo-boy … did we ever play like we had no stones. The Cubs swung the bats like Stephen friggin’ Hawking. If you combined that with Lance Barksdale’s East German judge-like strike zone, the Cubs’ minor league bullpen and baseball’s rule 7.13, you’d have an Olympics level “What Sucks the Most?” contest that a $5,000 hooker wouldn’t even qualify for! I give the gold to the bullpen.

Still, we did make it to the playoffs. Given the way we booted the ball around the diamond, and watched it sail by for much of the season, the fact that the Cubs ended up in the National League Championship Series (presented by Camping World) ranks right up there with walkin’ on water … and maybe some of that crap I’ve seen David Blaine do. For that, I lift a frosty, Winter Olympics Old Style to the Cubbies.

And … lest we forget our pre-2016 motto … this is “next year.” Hope springs eternal. Especially when the spring in question is followed by “training.”

Are we gonna make it to the podium this year?

Until 2016, I couldn’t give a Chicago style crapolla about that. Trouble is … now I know what it feels like to walk around with a virtual gold medal around my neck. So, yeah … I wanna hear the Star Spangled banner played in honor of the Cubs again. Is it gonna happen this year? Ask your Magic 8 Ball, pallie. Based on my prediction last season, that’ll work just as well. Besides, predictions are about as reliable as a Rahm Emanuel handshake. Ask Mikaela Shiffrin.

Right now I’d be tickled Cubbie blue just to put the Olympic torch to NBC’s coverage of the Winter Games — where in Gitmo-like fashion, they’ve forced us to watch 5 minutes of commercials for every 14 seconds of action. Since I can’t do that, I’ll settle for today’s Cubs-Brewers Spring Training opener.

Let the games begin, my friend.

Joe

STAY CLASSY, CHICAGO. THAT MEANS YOU, MADDON.

· 2017 Cubs, Joe Sez · , , ,

I hate to say I told you so, but I friggin’ told you so.

We just lost 2 outta 3 to the Giants — one of the worst teams in baseball — after dressin’ up like a biker gang on the trip out to the coast. Another one of hippie manager, Joe Maddon’s, let’s-have-some-fun-cuz-playing-pro-ball-ain’t-fun-enough theme’d dress-up brain farts.

Having fun now, Joe?

I hate losing. Ask the missus. And losing to the Giants is the worst. Why? Cuz they’re so far outta first place (35 games) it’s like the baseball version of gettin’ lapped. Losing to them actually physically hurts … like having your nards in a vice grip. The bottom line is that this dress-up thing is every synonym for “stupid.” 

Why? Lot’s of reasons. Not the least of which is that the Cubs did the same damn thing on their first trip to the left coast this season, only instead of bikers they dressed like Ron Burgundy on account of they were going to San Diego. (If you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about, watch the movie.)

We got swept. By the Padres. Also one of the worst teams in baseball. But did we learn anything from that experience? Based on the biker thing, no we did not.

Acting like a bunch of teenage girlies ain’t helping the Cubbies get back to the Series. It’s childish, moronic and, quite frankly, it’s a colossal embarrassment. If you act like a Major League ball club, you at least have a chance of playin’ like one. From what I have observed, you dress up like Ron Burgundy or the Hell’s Angels, you play ball like ’em.

Pull your heads out, Chicago!

You had 108 years between Championships. That’s not a dry spell, it’s a friggin’ Death Valley spell. Hey Joe, Maddon, that’s not fun for us fans! You wanna have some fun, Joe? Flush the Pretty Pretty Princess routine and try focusing on winnin’ ballgames. I’ll bet the friggin’ Dodgers are having fun. Are they prancing around in onesies? No, they are not. But they’re doing a shit load of prancin’ around the bases. (Yes … they prance. They’re from LA.)

What the Cubs don’t realize is that they get to play dress-up almost every day. They have the privilege of donning the uniform of Chicago Cubs. That oughta be enough.

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

Joe

THERE’S NOTHIN’ EASY ABOUT THIS YEAR’S RIDE, AND PLAYIN’ DRESS UP ISN’T GONNA HELP.

· 2017 Cubs, Joe Sez · , ,

Hey there, tire irons. I’ll say this; since comin’ back from the break, the Cubs have been flashing a bit of last year’s magic. And if you’re gonna do any flashing, San Francisco is definitely the place to do it, my friend. They showed just enough of their former selves to beat the G-men last night, which was one helluva lot better than the Sunday spanking we took at the hands of a real team — the Nats. The Cubs were this close to takin’ the home series against Washington, thanks to the nuclear powered bat of Wilson Contreras (again) and a little Lackey wizardry. But instead, the Cubs decided to reach into that black hole of surprises they call a bullpen and pull out a whimpering defeat. I bet Lackey was thrilled. It was another crap performance by what continues to be one of the biggest question marks in baseball — the Cubs relief staff. Even worse is how this kinda play is rewarded. Yep … another Joe Maddon costume party. Incredible. I mean is this a Major League baseball team or a bunch of Girly Scouts on a sleep over?!

I hate beatin’ a dead horse — unless it friggin’ deserves it, like if it keeps wanting to dress like a donkey or somethin’ — so I just gotta re-register my position on the nine kinds of stupid this themed road trip thing is.

First, I love Joe Maddon. I coulda given him a sloppy wet kiss last November 2nd. Without Joe, I think we’re on a 109 year losing streak. And I think the way he’s able to relate to players has worked pretty well. We’re Series Champs, after all, and you can’t argue with that. Still, I can’t get past the fact that these themed road trips come from the same mind that drove the Cubs into the winner circle, nor the stated reason for them — Joe wants his players to have more fun. MORE FUN?! These guys play a friggin’ game for a living. And by “living” I mean you’ve got over 160 million bucks gettin’ split just 25 ways. Not equally, but holy craptoids … if they’re not havin’ enough fun playin’ a game and makin’ a king’s ransom for doin’ it, something is rotten in Denmark, not to mention Wrigleyville. Dressin’ up like Ken dolls ain’t gonna fix that.

Second, we’re just a half game up in the Central. Now if we had … say … a 15 game lead and everything was going along swimmingly (By the way, what the hell does swimming have to do with somethin’ doing good. Never understood that one. Of all the exercises I’ve ever done — swimming is maybe the toughest. Bowling, for example, would be way easier. Like we should say “bowlingly” rather than “swimmingly.”) Anyway, like I was sayin’, if we’re basically on autopilot cuz we’re obviously the class of baseball, like we were last year, then maybe … MAYbe … you can do the Pretty, Pretty Princess thing. But if you’re grasp on the Central Division is limited to your fingernails, what the hell are you doin’ prancing about the country like bikers? (The theme for this trip is “Easy Rider.”) Not to mention the fact that this season has been about as “easy” as gettin’ to third base with Sister Mary Whatchyamicallit, so it’s not even is the same zip code as reality.

Or is the whole “Easy Rider” thing an arrogant slap in the face to the Giants who, at 44-69 are stinkin’ up all of northern California. Other than the Cards and the White Sox, I can’t think of another team I’d like to slap in the face more than the Giants but, to me, this would just be tempting fate. Are we a better team that San Francisco? Yeah, sure we are. We’re we a better team than the Pads the last time we played dressed up on our ride to the west coast? Also yeah. And what happened? W pallie.

I’m also wonderin’ if anyone gave some thought to the fact that biker gangs — not all of ’em, but some — tend to be associated with things like chains, brass knuckles, knives, guns and words like “melee.”

But what the hell do I know? After all, I picked the Cubs to win 110 games this year so no one is gonna confuse me with Bob Costas or anything. Still, if the Cubbies go undefeated the rest of the season, my prediction is still golden. There’s a zero game margin of error, which is thin, I grant you, but it’s still matheMAtically possible. Of course it’s also mathematically possible for Scarlett Johansson to deliver my next Malnati Classic wearin’ nothin’ but her smile. I’m not countin’ on either one. (Full disclosure; if I was forced to pick between the Cubs repeatin’ and the human lollipop pizza delivery, I may have to do with the latter. I’m just sayin’.)

In the end, all I can hope is that this “biker” thing continues to do somethin’ for the Cubs in San Francisco. Besides gettin’ them a free pass to the Castro.

Joe

PS. And in reference to Maddon’scomment, “For the group that doesn’t understand it, that’s too bad that you forgot what it’s like to be a kid,” I say bite me, Joe. What I understand is that you think playin’ dress-up games is gonna help you get back to the Series. I say drivin’ in runs and not giving up grand salamis in the 9th is a better strategy. I also remember just fine what it’s like to be a kid. And in my neighborhood, you could get the livin’ crap beat outta you by playin’ dress-up.

HOLY COW! FINALLY, JOYFULLY, THE CHICAGO CUBS ARE GOIN’ TO THE WORLD SERIES!

· 2016 Cubs, Joe Sez, The Playoffs · , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

CUBS-WIN-2016-NLCS

“This is it! This is it! It’s two, they’re gonna turn two! Eeeaaaaaahhhhhhh!” The moment the ball was hit to Russell, I jumped outta my chair, screamin’ like a banshee. I don’t really know what a banshee is, but it’s gotta be loud and somewhat unhinged. (That would make my sister in law a banshee.) I bear hugged the missus who was already workin’ on a full set of raccoon eyes. If I was a woman, or Johnny Depp, I woulda had ’em too, cuz I realized she wasn’t the only one cryin’. That’s what happened at the Schlombowski household Saturday night. And I’ll tell ya … except for the Swedish Bikini team servin’ me beers without their bikini’s, blubberin’ like a newborn was the last thing I expected to happen. I guess the Cubs going to the Series means more to me than I thought it did … And believe me, I thought it would mean one helluva lot.

More than anything else, I feel gratitude towards Mr Ricketts who, as the Cubs owner, sorta takes a back seat to Theo, Jed and Joe in terms of getting credit for puttin’ this club together. But if it weren’t for Mr Ricketts, none of those guys would be here and, in all likelihood, our season woulda been over by the mid-season classic, like usual. So … thank you, Mr Ricketts. On the 10 million to 1 chance that you’re readin’ this, I want you to know how grateful I am that you brought Major League Baseball to Wrigley Field. Yeah, there’s always been some sorta reasonable or unreasonable facsimile, but until you started signin’ the checks, it’s never been anything like this. Thank you for givin’ so much joy to so many people who have patiently waited for so very, very long. We do, however, need a sit down about concession prices, my friend.

Full disclosure: I was more than skeptical at times over the last 5 years. 55 seasons of nothin’ will do that to a Cubs fan. So for me, bringin’ in Theo wasn’t an instantaneous Kyle Schwarber moon shot. Not that I didn’t wet myself with excitement when Theo first signed. I mean he came with the Red Sox miracle on his resumé, which was huge. Still, it took a while before all the ingredients started to come together. That’s when the intoxicating aroma of Theo stew with Maddon sauce started wafting out over Wrigleyville, and I realized that Mr Ricketts was really baseball’s Charlie Trotter. So sue me if I’m a little slow on the uptake. Nobody except Javi Baez is perfect, pal.

“Try not to suck.” That was the mantra this year. A Joe Maddonism that’s Yogi-esque in its utter simplicity and purity. And the Cubs lived up to every bit of it. They did not and do not suck, my friend. The same can’t be said for the Dodgers. Sorry, it may be unsportsmanlike to kick your opponent when he’s down, but somethin’ has got to be said about what happened to the Dodgers and their messiah, Clayton Kershaw.

Personally, I wasn’t surprised in the least. Kershaw had squeaked by with a 1-0 victory in game 2, in spite of the fact that the Cubs couldn’t hit water if they fell out of a boat. Goin’ into Saturday night, though, with the Cubs’ bats turned up to the 50 megaton level the previous two games, it seemed obvious that Kershaw could be in trouble. Of course this was the last thing most people expected. Why? Cuz of the sycophantic baseball writers and broadcasters, who for a week had been pourin’ Kershaw syrup all over everything. Especially Joe Buck, whose lips have gotta be surgically attached to Kershaw’s buttox. I got sick and friggin’ tired of hearin’ about some new, lower delivery angle and how devastating it was gonna be on our guys. “When?” I ask. Best pitcher in baseball? Once, maybe. Unhittable? Like your mama. I’ll take Hendricks, Lester or Arrieta over fuzzy wuzzy any day of the week. And twice on elimination days. Between Kershaw and Hendricks, the latter was the superior pitcher this year, in every respect, most especially when it really mattered. So baseball press, can we please shut the hell up about Jesus Effing Kershaw, and how Dave Roberts is such a genius manager? It’s nauseating.

One last thing on this point: Hendricks pitched to the minimum number of batters. As did Chapman. Meaning game 6 was only the second time in playoff history — the other being Don Larsen’s 1956 World Series perfect game — that that’s been done. So, again … zip it on the Kershaw blather.

I know everybody is lookin’ forward to tomorrow night, but I think some of the fun and games from Saturday bear repeating here:

Toles hits the first pitch of the game into right for a single. The Dodgers were jumpin’ around in their dugout like a bunch of Girly Scouts who just got their first training bras. Two pitches later there were two outs and the bases were empty, and Javier Baez was tucking his cape in. LA took the field in the bottom of the 1st with a goose egg on the board.

In our half of the first, Fowler says hello to Kershaw with a ground rule double, and Bryant brings him in with a shot down the line. 1-zip, Cubs. In a Rorschach moment, the non-abbreviated version of F-U Dodgers blurted outta me. Don’t know what the psychology behind that is, but it felt like it needed to be said.

Somebody in the booth mentions that the Cubs are  47-13 when Fowler gets on to lead off a game. I’m guessin’ that Toles had his rabbit ears on when they said it, cuz instead of makin’ a routine catch, he channels Keith Moreland and drops Rizzo’s routine fly. We end up with guys on 2nd and 3rd. A sac fly by Zobrist scores another run. 2-nothin’, Cubs. Time for another Old Style. We leave Rizzo at third, but at this point in the game, with Hendricks on the mound and the Cubs bats in perfect working order, I’m startin’ to wonder how long it takes the club house crew to prep things for a champagne shower.

In the top of 2, Baez, Mr Steady, blows an easy one. Call me crazy, but I say he did it on purpose so Hendricks could pick Reddick off of first. Which is what he did.

Addi hits the 3rd double of the night and it’s only the 2nd inning. What a shame. Kershaw? More like Kershawshank, and definitely in need of redemption at this point. Instead, Fowler brings in Russell, and I have that same Roarschach moment.

The 3rd. Rizzo. Another double. Uh … that’s 4, so far, right Kershaw? I guess it’s hard to pitch when you’re walkin’ on water.

In the 4th, Joe Buck offers some of his unique wisdom by stating, “This place is crawling with blue.” No shit. It’s the Cubs and Dodgers. Blue is the color for both, you putz! Too bad all the rocket science and brain surgery positions were filled when Buck got outta school. The world missed out.

Contreras goes yard. Rizzo goes yard.

In the 8th, Toles appears to be checking his email on the field. Or maybe checking in for his flight back to LA. Seriously. If you recorded it, go back and look.

When Joe pulls Hendricks for Chapman in the 8th, again, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. I mean given recent history with that move. But another double play later I understand the difference between the mind of a savvy baseball genius and one that’s under the influence of Old Style. Yes, I started early.

Which bring me back to where I started — a series-ending double play that’s sent the Cubs to the World Series for the first time in 71 years, and me to the bathroom for some tissues. Not to sound ungrateful or appear greedy, but 4 more wins would be nice.

Joe