Hey there, flap jacks. I freely admit that I’m not ever 100% sure what Theo is doin’. Hell, I’m not even 27% sure. But then that’s why he’s runnin’ the best baseball team in an 800 light year radius and I work in a sausage factory. I’m not complaining. Me and sausage are like Bert and Ernie, milk and cookies, Rogers and Hammerstein. But I think we can all agree that runnin’ the Cubs is a better gig, and definitely comes with the kinda fringe that puts my annual Christmas bonus case of red hots on the top of the shame pile. And hey, kudos to Theo. The Cubbies are treating the rest of baseball like a baby treats a diaper. Love it.
But this Shalamar trade with the A’s for Chris Coghlan? I don’t get it.
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Life is good, Cubcakes. I used to wake up, slide out of the fart sack and pray to the Polish gods that we might actually win a game. Now? Well, I can’t wait to jump out of … of … okay, it’s still a fart sack (hey, I drink Old Style and eat Red Hots from a Pez dispenser, what’d you expect?) then pay my respects to Joe-Joe Maddon, the Polish god IN OUR DUGOUT, and wonder not if were gonna win today, but by how much. Yep, life is good north of a .700 winning percentage.
But let’s put the present aside for sec, uhm-kay? With the 2016 MLB Amateur Draft starting today, June 9 is all about the future: the stars of tomorrow that will lead each club to the Promised Land.
Or so they hope.
It ain’t that easy, Moses. I mean, who in the wide, wide world of sports can forget Shawn Abner? Just about everyone, that’s who! Abner was the first pick in the ’84 draft, ahead of guys named Bell and McGwire and Mullholland and Charlton and Maddux and Glavine and Moyer. Hearda them? Save for his mother and a handful of pals he grew up playing Whiffle Ball with in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania, Smokin’ Joe Schlombowski is one of the few people on the planet who remembers if Abner knew which end of the bat to hold. He did, but barely. Point is, first-round picks ain’t a sure thing.
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Hey there, crullers. Joe Schlombowski, super Cubs fan here, reminding you that today is National Donut Day. Or “Doughnut” Day. I’d usually take a stand on an issue like that, but the pure, orgasmic pleasure that defines one of these epicurean delights is all that matters. Arguing over that is like arguing over whether an ump missed a call cuz he forgot his white cane or his seeing eye dog. Anyway, today you should honor the little powdered or glazed or old fashioned wheels of pleasure by consuming as many as possible. In my case that would be just enough to not quite ruin my appetite for a few game day Chicago dogs. Not that the Snakes tend to upset my stomach like, say, the Mets do, but I also gotta think about my Schlombowskish figure.
Anyway, the whole reason I bring up Donut (or Doughnut) Day in the first place is cuz, so far this year, the Cubs have dished out 363 zeros to opposing teams. That’s 363 innings that the long, long line of highly-paid, bat-flippin’, best-on-planet-Earth Major League hitters have been stuffed by our staff and the marauding defense that hunts down and destroys anything they accidentally get their bats on. 363 zeros in the box score. 363 donuts (or doughnuts). Call ’em what you will — zeros, goose eggs, ohs, whatever — while Cubs bats have been channeling Babe Ruth, Ted Williams and Willy Mays all rolled into one three-headed monster of ka-boom, our defense has been handing out donuts (or doughnuts) like it’s some kinda Good Samaritan thing.
You know how one of the traditions at Wrigley is throwin’ any opposition’s dingers back, like they’re contaminated (which they are)? Well, I’m thinkin’ that today we pelt the Snakes with donuts (or doughnuts) every inning they get zeroed. What do you say, Chicago?
Joe
Is the sky blue? Is the Pope Catholic? Does Howdy Doody have wooden balls? Yesterday against the Cards, the right arm of Jake Arrieta wasn’t quite as bazooka-like as it has been for the 22 starts that immediately preceded it, but it had enough boom shaka-laka to get the win; his 23rd in a row, tying the Major League record and sparking the stupid question, will Jake Arrieta ever lose again? Actually, there are no stupid questions, just stupid people asking questions … which makes it difficult to distinguish them from White Sox fans.
The obvious answer, though, is that, yes, Arrieta is gonna lose again. Oh … I suppose he could get run over by the team bus before his next start, in which case then, yeah, he’ll never lose again, but 1) I think he’d rather lose again and 2) winning streaks are overrated. The problem with streaks is that after a while they start to get inside your head; you begin thinkin’ about not losing — not breakin’ the streak — instead of focusing on winning. And there’s a difference, pal. The fact that that question was even asked is proof that there’s something to my theory. Of course, it was asked by a member of the media, and there’s really no way to gauge just how far down the moron scale those can be. If you wanna keep a winning streak in perpetual motion, you gotta ask different questions. Do you think Jake will throw another no-no this season? How many times will he strike out the side tonight? Which will be the bigger story in October, the Cubs winning the Series or Arrieta going undefeated? If your mind is in the right place, you’re a lot more likely to get what you want. (That’s what the missus tells me, but it’s difficult to square that during baseball season.)
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Hey, if there’s anyone out there willing to drag the Cubs through the mud when they deserve it, it’s me, my friend. Sometimes, fingers need to be pointed (or in the case of the Mets, flipped) and, now and then the Cubs deserve to be on the receiving end. Why? Cuz In my mind, it serves no one’s purpose to “Hillary Clinton” things whenever the Cubs start conducting business on a private server. When they do that, I call ’em on it. But HOLY FRIGGIN’ CRAP! … What the hell is up with you guys wantin’ to string Tommy La Stella up by his Draymond Green target area?! Especially Jesse Rogers, who follows the Cubs for ESPN. I mean, it’s easy for us yay-hoos to mouth off from the cheap seats, but a pro callin’ a kid out cuz he fertilizes the infield grass a couple of times seems a bit harsh.
Maybe I’d feel different if we’d lost. Probably. I’m pretty good at blamin’ a loss on a guy’s brain fart. In fact every time I hear the name, Bartman, I still break into a sweat, and it’s a good 45 minutes until the facial tic goes away. So I get it. La Stella has had better days. But it’s not like anyone is whinin’ about our pen (which does finally have some bulls in it this year, but today, and a fair number of other days this season, they’ve looked more like veil calves). What about their roll in today’s near collapse? My point is, it’s a friggin’ team … and no single guy is gonna win or lose a game all on his own, although that’s what it looks like sometimes. It really doesn’t help La Stella to settle down when he gets skewered in the Twittersphere cuz of one bad day at 3rd.
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Well, cheese doodles, tonight was either a bona fide come-from-behind, never-say-die, skin-of-the-teeth victory, or a brutally honest look at our bull pen. Depends on how you wanna look at it, but since I have an almost mythical knack for finding the cloud wherever there’s a silver lining, I feel the need to point out the obvious flaw in what seems like a World Series team; our bull pen. Watchin’ them tonight was like eyeballin’ a petri dish coated with some disgusting stuff you can’t pronounce swarming around in random ways you can’t predict. And whatever that stuff is, you don’t want to touch it, and you sure as hell don’t want it wearin’ a Cubs uniform.
All I can say is thank you, God, for Joe Maddon. This was like some sort of baseball experiment tonight, where the Cubs were in a Phase II trial to figure just how comatose they could be and still win. Maddon, though, was the mad scientist, mixing things up in crazy ways, and putting parts where they don’t belong until he effectively willed a win out of what appeared to be a collection of inanimate objects. Seriously … how can the Cubs make like friggin’ Ironman for the first 5+ weeks of the season and then turn into Boy George against one of the worst teams in the league? Boggles the mind.
As good as we’ve been (and we’ve been damn good) and as masterful as Dr Maddon is (like a Casey Stengel version of Einstein … or vice versa) tonight’s showing against the Brewers illustrated with the clarity of a Miller High Life bottle that our bull pen is definitely the weak link in the Cubbies chain reaction. They walked 6 guys. SIX! I thought bull pen guys were supposed to throw strikes. That’s why they get brought in in the first place … cuz the previous guy couldn’t throw strikes. I mean if we wanted to keep walkin’ guys we’d just leave the first guy in, who was doin’ a fine job with that already, Right? Even Wood, who got the win by gettin’ out of a spectacular hole he dug for us, and gettin’ walked himself with the bags loaded, probably woulda had a different outcome if it hadn’t been for some of Maddon’s chess moves.
On the other hand, the Cubbies did come away with a win tonight, even if the bull pen was channeling Mitch Williams most of the time. Question is, what kinda pen do they wanna be? The kind that’s directly responsible for an increase in Chicagoland cardiac deaths, or the kind that inspires the sale of (name of Cubs reliever here) jerseys? We’re gonna find out. No question about that.
Joe
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
I’ll say this about Gerrit Cole; he’s in good company, although it has absolutely nothing to do with his arm. After beating the Cubs last night, thereby barely and finally scratching out a victory — the first in 6 tries against Chicago this season — Cole says, “I don’t really think they’re the best team in baseball.”
Really? I think maybe this Pirate is suffering from scurvy or something.
Before I get to the “good company” part, let’s just mow the facts into the infield grass where even the Lump of Cole oughta be able to read them from his 12 inch perch (assuming he can read). 1) The Cubs, at 27-9, are, in fact, currently the best team in baseball. Period. 2) The Cubs have a +109 run differential. Also, the best in baseball. In fact, it’s higher than the next two teams (Red Sox +58 and Cardinals +46) combined. 3) The Cubs have the highest power ranking, the lowest team ERA, and opposing teams (like the Pirates) have a batting average against us just two points over the Mendoza line. I’ll mention here that the Cubs have also outscored the Pirates 38-13 in their six head-to-head games this season. Seems like Cole oughta keep his nose outta the rosin bag.
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Holy crap! The Cubs lay a couple of goose eggs on Wednesday and you’d think the friggin’ sky was falling. Hey, Cubs fans, what the hell is wrong with you people?! Did you really think we were gonna go the entire season without losing 2 in a row? Is that realistic? I can understand that maybe … just maybe … your perspective might be a little off. After all, the Cubs are havin’ their best start in 109 years, we’ve got a run differential as wide as Bartolo Colon’s butt, and we’ve had both our offense and pitching in annihilation mode since we broke camp. It’s easy to get caught up in that, I know, but you gotta stop the Varuca Salt impersonations when every little thing doesn’t go our way. Grow the hell up.
My advice: Crack open an icy cold Old Style and try to enjoy what’s happened so far. Think about it. With just a Donald Trump-sized handful of exceptions, the Cubs have basically sucked for over a hundred years. This year? We’re good. I mean for real, we’re good. For the first 5 weeks of the season the Cubs have been the main topic of conversation on just about every sports program known to man. Why? Partly because when the Cubs win with monotonous regularity it’s pretty unusual. Partly because we’re really kicking the crap outta just about everybody, and then rubbin’ their noses in what we kicked out of ’em. We’re so good, in fact, that ESPN’s resident pinhead, Stephen A. Smith (middle name always initialed due to obscenity reasons) felt compelled to attribute Arrieta’s performance to PEDs. He just had to pin that kind of exceptional play on something … anything but the fact that we’re actually good. Too monstrous of a concept for the feeble minded.
If I’m Maddon, I’m takin’ a trip to the mound to settle you down. Try to remember that for a team that’s been defined by our ability to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, we’re doin’ pretty damn good. We lost a couple in a row … to a crappy team. Don’t jump off the Sears Tower just yet, pal. Take a deep breath, do some of that zen yoga meditation crap or somethin’ and have a little faith, baby. Did we fold when Schwarber went down? No. Have we found ways to win some close ones? Yes. Have we mostly treated opposing pitching staffs like a baby treats a diaper? Absolutely. So let’s have a little more Alfred E. Newman and a little less Chicken Little.
In the words of Nuke LaLoosh, “You win some, you lose some. Sometimes it rains.” It’s a long season, my friend. You gotta trust it.
Joe
I don’t know what it is … maybe I’m just a product of the 60s, when ballplayers were loyal to their teams (even if it was because the owners were as much slave owners as they were team owners). Still, when I read that Jake Arrieta — who’s havin’ by FAR the two best years of his career — is willing to walk away if the Cubs don’t offer him a minimum of $200 million and 7 years, I just wanna slap his greedy little Wall Street face.
I get it. Arrieta won the trophy last year, and he’s looking like Cy Young himself this year, while Strasburg — an inferior pitcher, if you go by the numbers — just penned a seven-year extension with the Nats for Jesus money. Plus, if you throw in the deals Price and Scherzer got (both 7-year stints for more than $200 million) then mix all that information together in the context bowl, then yeah, it sounds like Arrieta is worth what he and that bottom-feeder Boras are gonna be asking for. However, it’s totally friggin’ unreasonable in a world where garbage men are gettin’ 60-some grand a year to wade through Chicago’s trash, no matter what it’s doin’ outside. And what really rubs me raw is when I hear some of these guys, who drive Bentleys outta their 10 car garages to the ballpark, talk about how much they care about the fans. Quite frankly it insults my intelligence. Limited though it may be, I got enough gray matter up there to tell when a guy who plays a game for a living is dropping his kids off at the pool … and I’m the pool.
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