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EVEN-NUMBERED YEARS, TAXI CAB COLORED HAIR AND OTHER BASEBALL VOODOO.

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

OUIJA-BOARD

There were 2,430 games played this season, and it took the very last one for the Giants to manufacture a chance at the Post Season. How you interpret that can either give you hives or a grin the size of Prince Fielder’s butt.

It’s hard to figure a team like San Francisco. They’ve got a good staff, a line up of veterans, a damn good manager in Bruce Bochy, and a ton of experience with the post season in the last decade. A little too much. Like there should be a special episode of Hoarders about the Giants. And yet they still sucked like Linda Lovelace with a Dyson since the All Star break.

This is also an even year, which holds sway over the superstitious. Not that Cubs fans are immune to that condition. Two words: Billy Goat. Me, personally? I never, ever change my underwear in the middle of a winning streak. Needless to say, I got a little crispy now and then this season. Totally worth it, though. Anyway, Giants fans believe that even numbered years belong to their team — that they own ’em. And I gotta tell you … it would give me a world of satisfaction for the Cubs to prove what a Mount Everest-sized pile of crap that is.

The fact that the Giants made it to the Wild Card game at all, in spite of playin’ the second half of the season like the fog had rolled all the way into their clubhouse, says a whole lot about them, none of which I like very much. But I think an even numbered year has about as much to do with the Giants makin’ the playoffs as the color red does.

And that’s the thing. If they didn’t get in because of some voodoo, witchcraft, hocus pocus BS, then what’s the reason? As much as the legacy of Barry Bonds still sandpapers my backside, I gotta hand it to the Giants; they’re a grizzled lineup that plays team ball, doesn’t give up, and somehow finds a way to survive when they’re nose-to-nose with the grim reaper. Those are admirable qualities in a ball club, no question, and even though the words are gonna taste like the south end of a sick rhino, I gotta say that the Giants are probably for real and, unlike the geeked-out, cucumber mist bottled water-drinkin’ fans they got, they’re probably not big believers in the make-me-laugh, even-numbered-year thing.

Full disclosure: I was pullin’ for the Mets last night. And I gotta tell ya, after what happened last year, that felt a whole lot like havin’ a heart transplant without anesthesia. I just figured the Cubs would have an easier time with them than San Francisco, and that they’d do the same thing that the Giants did — chip away at the Mets’ pen.

Of course if Mad-Bum and his band of Halloween-colored honyocks think it’s gonna be more of the same against the Cubs, they’re sorely mistaken. No way Chicago is first pitch flailing at anything in the northern hemisphere like New York. LlNot a chance. Just 21 pitches got Bumgarner through the first 3 frames. That was epically-stupid on the part of the Mets, who wasted a brilliant outing by Thor and now will be swingin’ golf clubs this weekend instead of bats. And by the way, I don’t take Syndergaard out. He’d given up a grand total of 1 hit and had somethin’ like 10 K’s over 6 innings. Yeah, yeah … Granderson saved his narrow hiney on that deep drive to center, but that had more to do with where he was positioned than Thor runnin’ outta gas. It was a long out, nothin’ more. Look, all I’m sayin’ is if my horse has won the first two legs of the Triple Crown … do I replace the jockey at Belmont? No. I do not. What idiots.

It’s that kinda moronic hitting and coaching that played right into the Giants’ hands, and was a big factor in last night’s outcome.

And what about Yoenis Cespedes? He looked like a friggin’ crayon with that hair. I’m sorry, but if you’re doin’ that sorta crap as you head into the playoffs, you’re not focused. You’re tempting the gods to make an example of you. And did they ever? He went 0-4 with 2 strike outs, and got nothin’ on the ball when he did make contact. But, hey … LOVE your hair, Yoenis.

The gods weren’t done by any stretch, either. Enter Conor Gillaspie. Seriously? Conor … Gillaspie? A Conor Gillaspie could be a bank manager. A Conor Gillaspie might sir on the Supreme Court. But steppin’ into size 16 hero shoes in a win-or-go-home game? No. That’s the gods at work, my friend. Plain and simple.

If you look at the last week of the season, and last night’s game on top of that, you might conclude that the Giants have reacquired their mojo, and will now be an even-numbered foregone conclusion to be reckoned with. And that’s fine. The Force has a powerful effect on the weak mind.

But as the Wizard so emphatically put it to Dorothy, “Not so fast. NOT so fast!”

Anyone — and I’m mostly talkin’ to you Giants fans, now — anyone thinkin’ the Cubs are gonna pull a Golden State Warriors against the G-men oughta get a CAT scan right now. The best record in baseball means nothin’ to a team that hasn’t won a ring since William Howard Taft was diddlin’ interns in the Oval Office. There’s a whole lot more they’re playin’ for. On the very tip-top of that list would be writin’ the biggest sports story on the planet in the last 7 decades. The entire city of Chicago and, hell, half the country wants to see the Cubs doin’ the champagne boogie. I’ll bet the Giants won’t even be all that broken hearted when Rob Manfred is handin’ the hardware to Ricketts. Point is, the Cubs have a distinct purpose, and it’s one helluva lot bigger than just winnin’ the Series. It’s about healing. It’s about burying the damn curse. It’s about givin’ something to back to Cubs fans for 108 of stickin’ with a team that coulda been mistaken for a possum. And I believe the Giants are about to find out just how important that is to Chicago.

Thus, in spite of San Francisco’s do or die last night, and their willing themselves past LA to even get that far, there happens to be another possible scenario besides them findin’ their mojo. In fact, there may be no mo jo in their mojo. That is possible, my friend. What they’ve had to do just to get there may be all they could muster.

Whether they’re runnin’ on fumes or emotionally topped off with full-octane Willy Mays karma, I don’t think it’s gonna matter one iota. (What the hell is an iota, anyway?) I think the Cubs are bound and determined to finish what they started in April, and unless they come down with a team-wide case of the Black Plague, nobody — not Mad-Bum, not Posey, and certainly not Conor Gillaspie — is gonna be able to do a damn thing about it.

Joe

AT&T PARK, JAKE ARRIETA, AND THAT MELTED CHEESE CRAP.

· Ballpark Food, Joe Sez · , ,

2012-GIANTS

The Cubs are in San Francisco for the start of a 3 game series with the halloweenies. Given that english is now a second language in California, this probably won’t be necessary, but I’d like to point out right now that Arrieta is Spanish for “no hitter.”

San Francisco’s AT&T ball park — home of the Giants — is where Mr Arrieta will be notching his 8th win tonight. I hate to admit this, but I have a soft spot for the Orange and Black. It’s cuz they so dutifully rolled over for our broom last August, almost single-handedly ensuring the Cubs’ spot in the playoffs. Mind you, this soft spot is very tiny … and it’s not located in my heart, like most soft spots. It can be found on the caboose of my digestive tract, my friend, which always makes me think about Barry Bonds, and is why I’ll never forget who’s soft spot it is.

Excuse me while I meander back over to my original subject — AT&T ball park. I’ve been there a dozen times or so over the years. Meh. You’ll hear people from the Bay Area talkin’ about it like it’s a friggin’ holy shrine to baseball, cuz it supposedly has characteristics of the pre-Astrodome era. Personally, I’d say that if Wrigley is the Friendly Confines, then AT&T is the Hair Salon. It’s all a little to polished and schmick — not that it doesn’t get properly trashed during a game — but it’s missing whatever it is that Wrigley and Fenway have that make you feel like you’ve gone back far enough in time that baseball is still a game. Before free agency. Before ball girls and designated hitters. Before $14 beers, and idiotic mascots, and obnoxious music blarin’ so loud it almost breaks my ear drums. And certainly before Rob Womanfred’s nad-clipping 2nd base slide rule. AT&T sits squarely in the middle of “right now.” It’s a ball park. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less. Where it’s got it over Wrigley, though — and you have no idea how nasty these words taste in my mouth — is the 3 World Series Championships that have been hosted there. Credit where credit is due, pal. Still, the steroid inflated cheat, Barry Bonds played there, which in my mind sorta cancels that out.

They also serve lattés at AT&T. This, my friend, is like servin’ caviar and champaign at the rodeo. I mean you’re there to watch a friggin’ baseball game, not the Yves Saint Laurent fall collection at Fashion Week. This is not to say they don’t put out some damn fine, artery-chokin’ ball park junk food at AT&T. They do. My personal fav; a Sheboygan brat from Doggie Diner on the Promenade level. I recommend takin’ it to where they serve that melted cheese crap, slippin’ a fiver to the staff, and having ’em drown the brat in it. You may have to go to 2 or 3 until you find someone who wants to play ball, but it’s damn well worth it.

Anyway, it’d be real nice of the Giants to do an encore performance of last season’s August series. Might have to write a thank you note to Brian Sabean, Bobby Evans and the rest of those yay-hoos over there if they do. Better yet, I could send ’em a gift certificate to somethin’ like Hot Dougs or Pizzaria Uno, so — with all due respect to everyone who thinks San Francisco is foodie central — they can find out what real food tastes like.

Joe

AT&T SUCKS. IT’S A STUPID NAME FOR A BALL PARK, TOO.

· Joe Sez · ,

AT&T BALL PARK

Hey there, ring tones. I had to go to San Francisco the other day, which was pretty much a series of kidney stone moments for me, only with extra large, economy-size beach balls instead of those little tiny rock doo-dads. It was a lot like being in Road Warrior, if you know what I mean. I’ll spare you the play-by-play, except for the biggest get-me-the-hell-outta-here moment, which was me trying to talk to a live human at AT&T. Not the ball park, the phone company.

I bring this up for one reason: to help put the frustrations of being a Cubs fan into perspective. It looks a whole lot different for the Cubs this year, I grant you that. But let’s just say something weird happens, like the even numbered year thing the Giants got going, or Obama does one of his executive orders mandating the White Sox as World Series champs. (Technically, I guess that wouldn’t be considered weird for the guy.) So the curse continues, right? Well I’ll tell you one thing, pal, that damn curse is nothing compared to working your way through that friggin’ pain-in-the-ass AT&T computer voice thingy.

I’d rather be forced to hold hands with A-Rod, and watch a 24-hour loop of the Bartman play, and do it wearing a Cardinals jersey while sittin’ next to that obnoxious San Diego Chicken (last name always omitted for obscenity reasons) than trying to get a pulse on the line at AT&T. And isn’t that their friggin’ business?! Hey, AT&T! You’re a phone company! You’re supposed to answer the damn phone! I had to do it twice, too. TWICE! Cuz the first time, when I was finally told I was being connected to a live person, I got cut off. But not before the 5 minutes of ‘dead’ sound where you think you got cut off but you stay on the line just in case that’s how their phones sound when you’re on hold. So I waited. Stupidly. This is AT&T’s way of not having to deal with you. They’re trying to frustrate you so you’ll go away. At least the Cubs have never done it on purpose. I don’t think. Maybe Soriano and Marmol when they were around. But the rest of the guys? No way.

So as you can imagine, I can’t stand AT&T, or stuff they put their name on … or teams that play in stuff they put their name on. Anyway, since the Giants play half their games at AT&T Park, I’m hoping this incompetence thing that AT&T has going for it makes like the Zika virus and infects the whole team. Except for Posey. Gotta cut a guy with that name some slack. Besides … it ain’t over until we say it’s over, pal. I mean, was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?!

Joe

GIANTS SHOULD HIRE CHEECH AND CHONG.

· Joe Sez, News · , ,

TIM-LINCECUM-STONER

Hey there snowballs, Joe Schlombowski here, with another “general manager” off season tip.

So, I’m thinking the Giants oughta sign Cheech & Chong. I mean, if an itty-bitty bag of weed can turn Lincecum into a Nolan Ryan/Louis Tiant hybrid … imagine, just imagine what those two could do. Friggin’ lights out, that’s what.

Besides, I think half the San Francisco population has a prescription for medical marijuana, so it’s a natural fit. And think of the cross promotion possibilities with fast food joints. You could have Munchies Night, or Jack in the Bong Night … stuff like that. I’m tellin’ you that ballpark would be packed. Nobody would care about the outcome, but it would be packed.

Anyway, that’s my tip for you, Brian Sabean.

You’re welcome, pal.

Joe