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NAMES IN A BLENDER; THE 2018 CHICAGO CUBS OPENING DAY EDITION.

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

Hey there, garment bags. I’ll tell ya, yesterday woulda been a lot better as another snow day instead of Opening Day. It was about as exciting as watchin’ the yule log video on Christmas morning. About as warm, too. Pirates fans were definitely lovin’ it, though, and none that I saw showed any ill effects from eatin’ yellow snow the day before. I guess if you do it enough you build up a tolerance or somethin’.

Anyway, after a pretty good start, includin’ the first of Javi’s two moon shots, things went total Frankenstein-ugly in the third, and got worse from there. I don’t know about you, but in game situations like this, my mind tend to wander, always ending up in its predictable corners; 1) What’s for dinner and 2) Scarlett Johansson … er, uh … I mean the missus. I actually do mean that, too. The missus is hotter than a crate of barbequed Carolina Reaper peppers smothered in Blair’s Ultra Death Sauce. Besides, Johansson has answered exactly zero of the 4,617 letters I’ve written her.

Point is, I was lookin’ for somethin’ to do during the game, cuz the Cubs sure as hell weren’t doin’ much. So I played a little game I call Names-In-A-Blender to pass the time. I have what’s known as an elastic set of rules for this game so it can be adapted for actors, politicians, Olympic athletes, nightly news reporters … you name it. I’ve done it with ballplayers a lot, of course, but sometimes with different guidelines than yesterday. Anyway, it’s a good way to pass the time if you’re not doin’ much cheering and clapping, like at yesterday’s Cubs game.

Here are yesterdays Official Joe Schlombowski Names-In-A-Blender rules: You take the name of any major league ball player, say Trevor Hildenburger, and you combine it with another major league ball player, say Jake Lamb. You put those two together and you get TREVOR LAMB-BURGER. Turns out that’s what the red-hot missus cooked up for dinner last night, too. Great minds.

So let’s play a few rounds.

You put Jhoulys Chacin together with Matt Szczur and you get MATT JHOULYS SZCZUR. Probably as much chance of conquering the world as gettin’ into the Hall.

In honor of Harry Caray, mix Bud Norris with Tommy La Stella. That gives you BUD NO-STELLA. Definitely somethin’ Harry woulda said in some hipster bar.

Stayin’ with the hipster bar theme for a minute, combine Shin-Soo Choo and Yu Darvish. That gives you SHIN-SOO CHOO YU. Have a few Buds OR Stellas and try sayin’ that 3 times fast.

When you mix Sean Doolittle with Alex Wood you get ALEX LITTLE-WOOD. Not somethin’ you want on the back of your uni.

But mash up Evan Longoria and Blake Wood and you get EVAN LONGOR-WOOD. Much better, right ladies?

And for you guys from Boystown, there’s this one: Combine Albert Pujols and Doug Fister and you get DOUG PUJOLS-FISTER. Hey, to each his own, pallie.

Give it a shot sometime. Once you run out of ballplayers, start in on golfers, hockey player, football and soccer. Mix it up with the names of Donald Trump’s former cabinet members, and throw in the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders for good measure. If all else fails, go to your Facebook friends list.

Before you know it, you’ll be back on the El, lookin’ forward to tomorrow’s game.

Joe

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.

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.