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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.

THERE’S NOTHIN’ LIKE WAKING UP IN LAVERNE AND SHIRLEY LAND TO REALLY PISS YOU OFF.

· 2018 Cubs, Joe Sez · , , , , ,

Now that’s more like it, canon balls! Dunno what happened to the Cubs yesterday, but I figure it had something to do with wakin’ up in Milwaukee — somethin’ that coulda turned even Mother Theresa into a snarling rotweiller. Anyway, their pitching and hitting — not to mention their heads — each came poppin’ out to where the sun shines with a distinct THWIP! It’s about friggin’ time.

In the poetic words of Kid Rock…

Ooh, I’m back (back), the fog is lifted,
The earth has shifted, and raise the gifted.
You knew I’d be back, so pack your bone,
And hit the road Jack, cause daddy’s home.

Who’s your friggin’ daddy now, Ryan Braun?!

Yesterday, daddy made his presence known in the form of Jon Lester, who wasted no time showin’ Braun, Laverne, Shirley and the rest of the Brew Crew who the friggin’ boss is. When Braun got on in the first, you could see right away he was chattin’ up the demons between Lester’s ears. But when he started tap dancing around the bases like Gene Kelly, you could see the veins in Jon Boy’s neck pop out. They looked more like tree trunks. So when Braun took off for third, Lester gave him the Stormy Daniels treatment. No, not that treatment. The one where you get pants’d and then swatted with a magazine like Donald J. Trump. Admittedly, Lester’s throw was more of a bounce pass than a pick off, but in the wide, wide world of Jon Lester, it was a friggin’ Picasso, baby. Braun was left standing there with nothin’ but his toothpick in his hands. Loved it.

From that point on Lester was in steam roller mode. He surrendered just three measly hits and a walk though six, giving the Cubs an 8-nothin’ shutout over a team that the last few years has been givin’ me the same kinda rash as the Cards. And when that flares up, there’s nothing quite like the soothing relief one gets from the Cubs’ red hot bats. Sounds counter-intuitive, I know — puttin’ somethin’ hot on a rash — but it works every time, my friend. There are those times when — like the first five games of this year’s campaign — that the only red hot thing I can get my hands on is the missus. That works, too. Boy does that ever work. Kinda makes me wish for slump sometimes.

Then there’s Javi Baez.

Holy friggin’ craptiods! Unlike who’s-yer-daddy Braun, Javi doesn’t tap dance around the bases. He’s much more like the Tazmanian Devil. To score from first on a grounder to the pitcher — which Baez did in the second — requires a level 9 wizard’s license or somethin’. That and some really crappy fielding. Next to Lester nabbing Braun, it was the best play of the game. Number 3, I’d say was a tie between JaHey goin’ yard — somethin’ I think we’d all like to see a little more of — and Bryant slappin’ out his 500th hit.

In all, using the Brewers for toilet paper gives me a world of satisfaction. So would using them as a doormat, which I hope happens today.

I leave you with a little more Kid Rock.

The black cat is back, in original form.
The legible, credible, inevitable storm.
Way past the norm’, still misbehavin’.
Finger in the air and the flag still wavin’.

And that flag he’s referring to? In this case it’s the W, baby. Go Cubs.

Joe

IT’S MILLER TIME!

· 2016 Cubs, Joe Sez · ,

CUBS-MILLER-TIME

Tonight, I figured I’d be celebrating our series against the Brew Crew in the time-honored Joe Schlombowski cheap seats way; by pouring a frosty cold Miller straight into the crapper every time we score. Then — since Joe’s Bleachers is the environmentally responsible center of the universe  — flushin’ that nasty-tastin’, gut-bombin’ swill and sending it sloshing back to the brewery, where they can bottle it right back up for sale. Maybe even at Miller Park. (I flush twice, cuz it’s a helluva long way to the Miller Brewing Company.)

Unfortunately we happen to be down by 4 at the moment … which sucks. We haven’t pushed a single run across the plate, either … which also sucks. And Anderson’s got a no-hitter through 6. More sucking. Even worse (for me, anyway) … there’s an entire case of Miller contaminating my man-fridge. I was figuring on our usual 6, 7, maybe 9 runs a game. Not today. Haven’t flushed a single drop down the oval office yet, and if the Cubbies don’t get busy pretty soon, my Old Style is gonna get infused with the stink emanating from those clear bottles. C’mon, Cubs!

Enjoy the rest of the game.

Joe

TIME TO GET UP FOR THE BREWERS.

· 2016 Cubs, Joe Sez ·

BREWERS-VOO-DOO

The Brewers will be stinking up Wrigley starting tomorrow, my friend, which means it’s time to get ready … or, uh … get up for the game, so to speak. Now, if I was former Cubs cannon-armed, superstar-turned-jagoff Sammy Sosa, this would involve needles and some cork. But seeing as how I’m just your average fat guy from Chi-town, I got another — and I hasten to add, superior — way to make sure I’m game ready for the Brewskis on Tuesday night. That is … I plan on doing my best Joey Chestnut imitation at Hot Doug’s while jiggling both of my chins and my 6-pack* to the best food song ever. This tends to help me find my game face. Not to mention my game gut.

Then, after the missus has brought me home from the emergency room, I like to put the Laverne and Shirley intro credits on “loop” and play it over and over until it’s time to leave for the ballpark. This reinforces why I can’t friggin’ stand the Brewers (as if the fact that Bud Selig used to own them isn’t enough).

Anyway, whatever your ritual is, like stickin’ pins in a Ryan Braun doll, wearing a thong (it worked for Giambi), polishing your dog, shaving your forearms … Whatever. Just be ready. And when you’re at the yard, and you happen to bump into those morons wearing Brewers gear, remember the words of my sainted Mother: “If you can’t say anything nice, be sure and say it to a Brewers fan.”

Joe

*A true 6-pack, by the way, ain’t the kinda shaved, metrosexual 6-pack you see gawking at you through the windows at Abercrombie. It comes from actually CONSUMING vast quantities of 6-packs. Preferably of the Old Style persuasion.