https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gasAm4DIVsg
If the Cubs win the Series, Chicago is gonna be pretty much as depicted in this TV spot. Only it’ll be real.
Until this year, asking that question was an indication that 1) it was 1945, 2) you were referring to your kid’s Little League team, 3) you were completely friggin’ nuts, or 4) it was before the bottom of the 8th, October 14th 2003. It’s not a question one would really ask — even on those occasions when it’s been warranted — cuz there was always a feeling way deep down inside, down where brats get processed and weird sounds emminate, that the Cubs would figure out a way to F it up. And they never failed to live up to that expectation.
If hope springs eternal, Cubs fans have perfected the art of it. We even created “wait until next year” in an attempt to throw down a gauntlet; a warning that the following season would be different. But that’s always been false hope, intended primarily to take the sting out of our yearly belly flop into the Sea of Ineptitude.
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Tonight’s game against the Friars was like a trip down memory lane, only this lane was more like a dark alley smack dab in the middle of Fallujah. I don’t know why, but the bull pen decided it would be a hoot to reenact one of its performances from 2012. Now, I would try to do the duck thing and just let this roll off my back, but I’ve been a Cubs fan way too long for that. I remember trading Maddux, I remember Bartman pretending to play left field, I remember getting broomed in the first round of the playoffs after winning 97 in the regular season. So nothin’ is rolling off my weary, old, hairy back, my friend.
You have to take this stuff seriously. Especially if you’re Maddon. In fact, I’d like to see him channel a little Lee Elia … and like right friggin’ now. I mean, Joe had an awesome first season, right? Better than anyone, including management, expected. So I’m not sure he’s 100% dialed in on the historical voo doo that swirls around the club like the winds in Wrigley. If Joe doesn’t bring a little Old Testament, wrath-of-God kinda whoopass down on the bull pen for that performance tonight, and just laughs it off, that’ll just invite complacency. You get enough of that and pretty soon there’ll be no joy in Mudville, pal.
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The Cubs and Padres have been postponed, so let’s talk about brooms.
This sweep thing the Cubs have going is getting monotonous. First it was the Reds, then the Brew Crew, followed by the Pirates. And yesterday it was the Nats — the mighty Bryce Harper Nationals. Each and every one of ’em broomed by the Cubs. Yeah, yeah … there were a couple of rain outs in there. Still, I’m thinkin’ Ricketts oughta consider hiring a witch to fly over Wrigley and skywrite “Surrender (team name here)” during the last game of a home stand. It’d make for an awesome promotion, and would be fantastic optics for Hillary Clinton. Hold your water there, snowflake. Before you Hillary lovers get all micro-aggressioned and try to have me water-boarded, I’ll also point out, while we’re skippin’ down the yellow brick road, that the other candidate is in desperate need of a brain. There … Is everyone sufficiently triggered?
I digress.
The ‘sweep’ thing sounds a little cocky, I know. Especially since it’s so early. We’re also Schwarberless, Montero is injured, and Bryant and Heyward are not 100%. Still, there’s definitely something in the water this year; some kinda special sauce or magic dust … or spinach maybe. Something that’s turned the Cubs into the baseball version of the Avengers. By the way, spinach flavored water? … Bleeeaaaaaacccckkkkk! Whatever it is, though, this has been one of the best 5 week stretches of my 55 years. There was that incredible thing with the missus and that medication snafu, but other than that, this is tops.
Anyway, enjoy it. I am.
Joe
There was this great episode of Star Trek called “Mirror, Mirror” where a transporter malfunction swaps Captain Kirk and his crew with their evil counterparts in a parallel universe. Except for the “evil” part, sometimes I wonder if there was some kinda ion storm thingy that threw baseball into a sorta upside-down world, parallel universe where Chicago’s Cubs — the used Charmin of the National League — are now the equivalent of the ’27 Yankees.
I guess that would make Maddon Captain Kirk. I don’t know who Arrieta is. Probably Spock, with that Vulcan nerve pinch of a fastball. Then you got Rizzo, Bryant, Ross, Fowler, Lackey, and so on, as Scotty, Bones, Chekov, Sulu and the rest of the crew of the Star Ship Wrigley … going where no Cubs have gone before. Fascinating.
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One of my favorite things about baseball is that no matter how long you’ve been following the sport, somethin’ happens in most games that you’ve never ever seen before. I used to think this applied to everyone but the Cubs, cuz year-in and year-out, you could pretty much count on tomorrow’s game being a carbon copy of today’s game, which was a bona fide duplicate of yesterday’s game; another notch in the loss column. Not any more, pal. Last year we took a major detour from the yellow brick road, and this year … well … this year we fired up the John Deere, set the height to “zero” and have been mowing down anyone and everything in our path. In that regard, I guess we’re still sorta monotonous, but in a really friggin’ good way.
So anyway, yesterday I’m watchin’ us against Pittsburgh, right? It’s early — just in the 2nd — so the wheels haven’t come off the Pirate ship yet, when a grounder gets tapped up the middle. Lester grabs it (nice job). But now he’s gotta throw it to first and, as we all know, that can definitely present some things you’ve never seen before … like the ball ending up in Section 134. But this time, it’s so friggin’ jammed in the webbing of Lester’s glove, he can’t get it loose. Unbelievable. But does he panic? Hell no! He wads the whole thing up — mitt and all — and heaves it to Rizzo for the out. Now I’d never seen that before, but here’s what really blew the foam off my medicine: The same two guys (Rizzo and Lester) did the exact same thing last year — almost to the day — at Wrigley. I don’t know how the hell I missed it. I coulda been playin’ hide the salami with the missus, which is about the only thing that can throw me off my Cubs game. Who could blame me?
I’m not sure what this does to my theory about something new happening in every game. For those of you that saw it last season, it doesn’t hold. But for those of us who missed it due to a land slide or tornado or some other force of nature — oh … it was a force of nature, alright — it was new to us this time around. Anyway, it was such a genius move it was worth a little deja vu all over again. In Yogi we trust.
Joe
PS. You wanna see something you’ve never seen before, and that will make you get down on your knees and pray you never ever have to see again? Take a look at Lester’s post game attire. A fashion “don’t” of galactic proportions, it illustrates the single most amazing achievement in all of sport: A blind man can pitch in the Major Leagues. No wonder the guy can’t throw the ball to first base. He can’t friggin’ see it.
So, I’m watchin’ the Cubs unload on the Pirates tonight and, at some point, one of the announcers says, “… and the Cubs have a commanding lead.” At which point the lovely Mrs Schlombowski utters, “That’s a phrase we’re gonna hear a lot this year.”
No wonder I love this woman.
You might think this would be expected. No, not the fact that I love my wife. Rather that the missus of a ginormous Cubs fan would be an equally ginormous Cubs fan. Not the case, my friend. The wife puts up with my Cubs obsession the best she can. For example, she only went partially ballistic when I shaved the Cubs logo in my chest hair. She let’s me hang my W flag on our front door. She knows players; Rizzo, Bryant, Arrieta, LaStella. I even get her to a game now and then. And … AND … she wears the Cubbies t-shirts I get her. Let me tell you, my friend … “Cubs” on a t-shirt on the missus … best use of typography I’ve ever seen. Still, to say the missus is a Cubs fan would be like sayin’ Hillary Clinton is a swim suit model. Uh-uh.
My rather long-winded (thus typical Joe Schlombowski) point is this: The missus may not be Chicago’s biggest Cubs fan, but that didn’t keep her from dropping a Socrates-like observation on me tonight. It’s the kinda thing that never occurs to someone conditioned to saying “Wait ’til next year” by the mid-season classic. Anyway, the missus really pine-tars my bat … especially when she’s wearin’ a Cubs t-shirt. Hoo boy, I love that woman.
Joe
Hey there, cheese puffs. As I look back on the first month of the season, I think it can best be summed up by channelling a little Harry Caray: HOLY-FRIGGIN-COW! I mean, that was like the Kate Upton of opening months! Sure … maybe there’s a freckle here or a hair slightly outta place there, but pretty much you just wanna sit back and dream about it, and hope you never wake up.
It was the best start we’ve had since 1907. 1907!!! For example, in a measly 84 games ahead of last year’s pace, the Cubs reached 10 games over .500. We outscored our opponents by like 3,000 runs. I exaggerate, but you get the point, right? How about the bats? And the staff! Arrieta was named National League Pitcher of the Month. Duh; 5-0, a 1.00 ERA and a no-hitter (against Cincinnati, which made it all that much sweeter). Go ahead … try and find a weakness, pal. There ain’t one. I’d like to point out that we did nearly all of it Schwarberless. Can you begin to imagine what April woulda been like if Schwarber was healthy? They woulda had to add “Cubs” to the Richter Scale.
If I could point to anything that would benefit from a little of Schwarber’s best Babe Ruth imitation, I’d say it’s Stephen A. Smith. This guys is a wind bag of Bruce Froehming proportions, and proved it beyond any doubt when he accused Arrieta of juicing. (He said he wasn’t ‘accusing’, but then went ahead and put it out there. Call it what you want … that’s a full-on accusation.) What a colossal pin head! If the guy knew anything about Arrieta, his work ethic and the adjustments he’s made to his mechanics — in short, if he’d done ANY research at all before shooting off his pie hole — the thought of juicing would never have crossed his itty-bitty microscopic mind. But that woulda meant actually doing some work, which would take away from running his turbo-charged, noise box. Personally, I don’t think a guy who’s been slammed by his colleagues for sexist comments, and who was suspended by ESPN for essentially saying that some women bring domestic violence on themselves, oughta be throwin’ any stones from his glass house. In fact, how the hell does he have a friggin’ job when Curt Schilling doesn’t? Makes no sense.
So, except for Stephen A. Smith (and, yeah, I think I know what the ‘A’ stands for) trying to piss on our parade, April was about as killer as it gets. Let’s hope May is the same.
Joe
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.
I’m a really superstitious guy. I don’t walk under ladders, if I see a black cat I turn and go the other way, and I never ever change my underwear in the middle of a winning streak. (Already been a little crispy a few times this year.) Because of this, I normally wouldn’t want to tempt the curse of the goat by talkin’ about the start the Cubs have pounded out this season. But I’ve sat back in the Barcalounger as long as I can, pal, so — Schwarberless and all — I gotta point out the obvious fact that the Cubs are the friggin’ class of the sport of baseball this year. (Which is the real Sport of Kings, not horse racing, like most people think.)
And although we got a taste of our own medicine yesterday by lettin’ Cincinnati lay a little of the old Red Machine on us, today we hung another 9-spot on ’em, taking the last game of the series, makin’ it 6 outta 7 against them so far. That means our 14-5 record is the best of any team in baseball. Thee best. The top. The Mona Lisa, baby. It’s also one of the best starts in the long, agonizing and painful history of the Cubs. Anyway, it got me wondering what other kinda great starts there have been — ones that are worthy of being on the list with the 2016 Chicago Cubs. Alright, here’s what I got:
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What is this, football season already?! Kinda sounds like it when you’re playin’ Cincinnati.
To clarify, so far this season, Chicago has outscored Cincinnati 46-7. Ouch! If this was September you might think I was talkin’ about the Bears and Bengals (except for the fact that baseball kick’s football’s ass, and I’d rather get a colonoscopy from Dr Jack Hammer than talk about football). Nope. It’s the Cubs and Reds, pal, and in football parlance we’re barely into the 2nd quarter with these guys.
At the current pace, the Cubs are gonna run up 156 runs over the course of our 17 meetings with Cinci this year. I know a lot of you are thinkin’ that we can’t sustain that pace. But I say, if the Warriors could damn near run the table this year, then why not the Cubs? Yeah, they have Stephen Curry … But we got Arrieta, Lackey, Bryant, Rizzo … hell, I could sooooo go on. And look at their history; a very Cubs-like futility on a basketball court. Plus, we’ve got the law of averages on our side; we’re due. Past due. Way, way, way past due.
And as far as football goes, they have cheerleaders, we don’t. That’s the one thing I have to tip the Joe lid to, and is the second thing I think (Hey, Womanfred, are you listening?!) the Commissioner could do to improve the game. The first thing would be to get rid of that sissy Designated Hitter crutch. Have you seen Arrieta hit?! Case closed, pal.
Joe
