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WHAT A THREE-TOED SLOTH, THE GEOLOGIC TIME SCALE AND THE 2018 CHICAGO CUBS HAVE IN COMMON.

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

Hey there, rubber bands. Ever heard of the geologic time scale (GTS)? Yeah, me neither. It’s a system used by rock hounds to describe the timing and relationships of stuff that’s occurred during Earth’s history, which happens so slowly it’s really the only way to do it. An eon, for example — the largest division of this time scale — spans hundreds to thousands of millions of years, which is one helluva long time, pallie. So until now, there have only been two major eons: the Precambrian and the Phanerozoic.

However, based on the Cubs immeasurably slow start this season, I’m guessin’ the National Academy of Science may have to introduce a third major division in the GTS — the Northsidian eon — as the only feasible way to track the April the Chicago Cubs are puttin’ together.

Have there been worse Aprils? Of course. In 1988, Baltimore went 0-21 before splitting their last four games to finish 2-23 in April. I remember that. They coulda easily just cleared out the clubhouse and started settin’ up tee times. I mean the season was done; burnt to a crisp before May Day, which I’m sure was a pretty common phrase in Baltimore that spring. And let’s not forget the Cubbies, who started seasons at 6-19 in 1962, 1966 and 1997. So, yeah, there have been some total crap Aprils since the beginning of baseball time, and five games in, no one should worry.

So why the need for a new eon now?

Cuz context matters, my friend. Leadin’ up to opening day, any conversation about the Cubs was peppered with assumptions of dominance. Sportswriters were practically wettin’ themselves over the strength of the revamped pitching staff and a line up so fearsome that some opponents might rather forfeit games instead of subjecting themselves to a lopsided Cubs beatdown.

Instead, we’ve come outta the gate like a three-toed sloth — an animal that tops out at 10 feet per minute. And we’ve done it against the Fish and the Reds, two teams that might have trouble qualifyin’ for this summer’s Northwest Little League Regional. It’s embarrassing, my friend. Our pitching has been about as hot as the last ice age, and our bats have demonstrated all the firepower of a fossilized salamander.

Take a look at the numbers in the first 5 games:

We’re hittin’ .204 with 58 strikeouts. Un-friggin-believable.

44 of those Ks were brought to you, for the most part, by the high-butter fat cream of the lineup: Happ (10, and he’s supposed to be a leadoff hitter), Contreras (8, not a surprise given he swings at everything within 3 city blocks of the plate), Rizzo (6), and Bryant, Schwarber and Heyward (each with 5).

Although we’ve had 64 base runners, we’ve scored just 19 times and only managed to swipe a single base.

Did I mention Happ, our leadoff “hitter” has struck out 10 times? 10 FRIGGIN’ TIMES!

In game 2 against the Fish, we had a whole regulation 9 inning game, plus 8 extra ones, to get the slippery bastards in the boat. But did we? No! We let ’em off the hook, that’s what we did.

And we’ve been shut out twice already, including yesterday’s weak two-hit effort we put up … AGAINST THE FRIGGIN’ REDS!

What I’m hopin’ is that this pinched-loaf of a start is nothin’ more than the calm before the storm; the geological nap before baseball’s La Garita. And if it turns out that way, it would be nice if the 1,000 cubic miles of ash we leave in our wake includes a high concentration of St Louis Cardinals, Chicago White Sox, New York Mets and Clayton Kershaw.

Joe

THE LYNYRD SKYNYRD GAME 3 SUMMARY: “OOOH THAT SMELL. CAN’T YOU SMELL THAT SMELL?”

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

NLCS-GAME-3-CUBS-DODGERS

Was that the Chicago Cubs I saw in Dodger Stadium tonight, or a Sears tower-sized turd? I think the latter.

At first, when the whole pre-game thing filled the ball park with instant smog, just to remind everyone where the hell we were, I thought maybe that was makin’ our guy’s eyeballs water, which would explain why they were havin’ so much trouble seein’ the ball. But as the game wore on, it became apparent that what was really happening was the Cubs has succumbed to the whole “Hey, look, Larry King is sittin’ like … RIGHT THERE” thing. Whatever it was, stars or smog in the eyes, Chicago swung the bat tonight like Helen Keller. Blindfolded. I kept hopin’ LA would put a 10 year old girl in to pitch, cuz I know we couldn’t get a hit off a 12 year old one.

It pretty much went like that for most of the night. Then, in a move that makes about as much sense as Donald Trump, Maddon decides it’d be a good idea to pinch hit Heyward for Russell in the 7th. I grant you, right now Addi with a bat in his hand is about as dangerous as Mother Theresa. But I’m at a total loss to explain Heyward as the stick of the moment. You have Wilson Contreras on the bench, who can actually make contact with the friggin’ ball, by the way, but Joe goes with the most over-paid, underperforming player in Major League Baseball. You pull one no-hit bat (Russell) for another, and what happens? What the F do you think happens? He watches a strike 2 meatball go by that Louis Braille woulda tattooed, then wildly swings like a kid at a piñata party at a pitch that was in the next time zone. What’s the logic, Joe?

We can’t even get a friggin’ sacrifice when we need one. Of course if it were up to me, we’d tie Kershaw down on a makeshift altar, sprinkle him with a little Beverly Hills poodle blood or somethin’ and set his ass on fire. There’s your sacrifice, pallie. Maybe that would appease the baseball gods, which seem to be extraordinarily pissed off at the Cubs right now. Even if it didn’t, we’d have at least done something to help our chances against these Hollywood yayhoos.

Rizzo’s 9th inning stroke-of-luck, broken bat, squeeker of a hit was a symbol of what Chicago’s offense has been throughout the playoffs — a shattered remnant of it’s former self. That hit — and it was a helluva lot more like a 50 foot putt than a batted ball — brings Rizzo’s average up to a scorching .077. Watch out!

The Cubs have now gone 18 consecutive playoff innings without crossin’ the plate. Besides being a King Kong-sized, steaming pile of inept crap, that means our offense just broke their previous playoff record of 16 scoreless innings, set during the 1906 World Series … which we lost. I’m just sayin’. When your season is only 7 games long, maybe less, you can only go so far if you can’t hit the damn ball. There aren’t another 155 games to even out the slumps. If the Cubs wanna have a chance at puttin’ the curse to rest, it’s time they started swingin’ the bat like the Chicago friggin’ Cubs, not the Elmhurst Little League Cubs. No offense, Elmhurst.

Joe

Tonight’s fun facts: There are no fun facts tonight. There are facts, but none of ’em are fun. 1) The Cubs were 4 for 31 tonight. 2) We struck out 10 times. 3) We also left 11 guys on base. See what I mean? No fun.

WILLSON CONTRERAS DOES THE NO JOKIE HOKIE POKIE.

· 2016 Cubs, Joe Sez, News ·

 

CONTRERAS-JEWELS

Gettin’ smacked in the jewels is no picnic. It’s not even a leftover bowl of little Doritos scraps, so I can only imagine how Willson Contreras musta felt when he got a foul tip off of his foul tip. I money-back guarantee you that every single guy that saw that play made one of those “ouch” faces, with teeth clenched, and where the eyes squint like somebody just emptied a couple of lemons in ’em. It’s a universal reaction to seeing that happen to somebody, cuz we’ve all been there. Maybe not with a baseball, but if you hit ground zero with a bean bag, it’s gonna hurt.

What’s not universal is the way Contreras was breakdancin’ all over the infield tryin’ to shake it off. That was totally new territory, my friend. Most guys — like 90 out of a 100 — are just gonna go fetal position. Another 9 are gonna LeBron James it — whaling like the Mountain just whacked off an arm or something. Contreras, on the other hand, looked like he was tryin’ to get a shot on Dancin’ With the Stars, shakin’ and bakin’ like the boogie woogie bugle boy. It’s only a matter of time before somebody with not enough to do sets it to music and throws it up on YouTube. Can’t wait.

The weird thing about this play — and I think this is universal, too — is that about 6 seconds after it happened, and I’m finished makin’ my “ouch” face, I started to laugh. Yeah … like I already said, it hurts like a (nasty word of choice here). As guys, we know that. But if it ain’t you, it’s funny. Especially with that Jupiter Walk (like the Moon Walk only way way further out in space) Contreras laid on us.

Anyway, I felt bad for him. As bad as everyone in the Cubs dugout, anyway.

Joe