You know, all this hubbub about Tiger Woods using his driver on every hole in sight got me thinking about Milton Bradley. Not cuz he can’t keep his putter in his own bag, though. I mean, Milton’s no prize, but as far as I know he doesn’t try to score unless he’s in uniform. He’s not too good at it, but you know what I’m sayin’, right?
Anyway, I’m thinking Elin Woods isn’t gonna do the ‘stand by your man’ thing. She’d look like an idiot. Same goes for the Cubs and the Monopoly guy. I’ll tell you this, my friend; if Stand by your Man had been penned by the twangy Joe Schlombowski rather than that country vixen, Tammy Wynette, it woulda gone a whole lot different…
(Alright, you gotta hear the tune in your head, now.)
Sometimes it’s hard to be a Cubs fan
When you got an A-hole out in right
You’ll have bad times
And he’ll have mad times
Doing things that you don’t understand
I could go on, but you get the point. And speaking of things I don’t understand, I heard Billy Williams ain’t ready to broom Bradley yet. And that just boggles the mind, doesn’t it? How can B-Dub even have the first second of that thought enter his head without calling his doctor?! I mean really.
Joe
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
So, the Cubs filed for Chapter 11. Kinda poetic, don’t ya think? But it’s like Dr. Seuss poetic, not Robert Frost or Robert Service or Shakespeare poetic. Although, this season was a comedy of errors. (Uh, for you White Sox fans … that was one of Shakespeare’s plays.)
Anyway, it just seems fitting that the most pathetic baseball team in the history of history is declaring bankruptcy. I know, I know, it’s just a technicality that will let the Ricketts family take over the club. It’s not like they’re breakin’ up the team and selling off the jock straps. Although, I think I can get maybe two or three hundred thousand people who would agree that may not be such a bad idea.
One thing’s for sure, the Monopoly Guy has got to go. In fact, he oughta go directly to jail without passing Go, and without collecting $7,000,000. That’s right, sports fans, Wiltin’ Milton took home a seven with six zeros after it. And you know what we got for that? A .257 average, a whopping 12 dingers, and the attitude of an abused rottweiler. And who does he blame this on? Us; the fans; Chicago; the best fans and the best city in the world.
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Casey Stengel and Yogi Berra proved that you can have one wheel in the sand and still be thought a genius baseball man. This I do not understand. Mostly because baseball is always called “the thinking man’s game.” I don’t see it. At least not in the Cubs dugout. If they’re thinking — and I’m not saying they are — it must be about nail polish or something, cuz it sure as hell isn’t baseball.
I give you exhibit A; Lou Piniella. Now, I love Lou. I mean the guy is right out of central casting and, up until now, I thought he was exactly what we needed. But when I read stuff like I did yesterday, it makes me wonder if Lou wouldn’t be better of with a few jolts of electric sunshine to the temples. Or, perhaps, some other more vital area of his anatomy.
Take the Milton Bradley thing for instance. Lou’s assessment is that the best thing he can do to get the Monopoly guy’s crap .230+ average to a respectable level is to relax. ReLAX?! If he was any more relaxed he’d be on a beach somewhere getting a tan. Instead, how about friggin’ CONCENTRATING?! Ever thought of that? This is a guy who drops routine flies, and turns out number 2 into a souvenir. He doesn’t need to relax, he needs 3 or 4 guys pulling on his shoulders until his head pops out of his ass.
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Lemme get this straight. A-Rod juiced because he had the burden of carrying around a $252 million contract on his shoulders???? Awwww, poor widdle baby. I’ll tell you what this pin cushion needed: a large, economy-size dose of Vito Corleone slapping him in the face and telling him to man-up.
Every friggin’ time I hear one of these pussies whining about the pressures of the money they’re making — to plaaaaay a sport, by the way, for a cruel and unusual 6 months a year — I wonder if they’d like to step into the well-worn shoes of some single mother who cleans hotel rooms for a living. You know, someone who doesn’t have two nickels to rub together for anything more extravagant than an extra helping of Top Ramen. THAT person knows what money pressure is, my friend, not a guy with a car collection.
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News flash: Barry Bonds tested positive for three types of steroids.
No freaking kidding.
Guess what else. It rains in Seattle. Yeah. And if you stick your hand in a fire you get burned. And, can you believe this? … Rod Blagojovich, a Chicago politician, is a crook. Yeah, a shocker. Know what else? If you fall out of a boat, you hit water. (Unless your name is Alfonso Sorriano and it’s the playoffs. Then, no.)
I gotta tell you though, all this hullabaloo over Bonds’ cheatin’ heart is starting to get on my nerves. I know it’s against the law and all, but I could give a crap if he lied to a Grand Jury. It’s not like he shot somebody or ‘accidentally’ forgot to pay $140,000 in taxes. Besides, everybody knows he used, so everybody knows he lied. The Grand Jury knows, baseball knows, Greg Anderson certainly knows, hell, even you latte-drinkin’ Giants fans who defend the guy know. I mean you gotta be living on another planet to look at the guy and think he’s clean. Arguing about it is like arguing over who won the game three days after the last out was recorded. The guy did it — look at him — so who gives a crap if he didn’t man-up in front of the Grand Jury?
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I do believe the entire Texas Rangers pitching staff has just seen their careers flash before their eyes. Why?
Muntadhar al-Zaidi — reporter for Baghdadiya Television; right handed; excellent velocity; decent control; deceptive delivery. And he’s a free agent. Well, technically he’s currently an incarcerated agent, but I think you know what I mean, my friend.
Alright, alright. He was throwing shoes, not baseballs. And that is a girly thing to do, I grant you. But hey, the Rangers already pitch like a bunch of junior high cheerleaders, so you can’t really use that against this guy. And just try throwing a shoe compared to a hardball. No way you can control a size 10-1/2 as well as the horse hide, my friend. Plus, there was some serious cheese on those things. At least the first one. I gotta think he took a little off the second one to try and throw Bush’s timing off, but he ducked that one, too. Behind a podium, I might add.
So I figure you put this guy on the mound in Arlington — where guys can’t hide behind large, immovable wooden objects — and the Rangers just improved their team pitching stats by about 20%.
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Hey there, ballot boxes. I expect you’d have to be dead to have missed all the stuff flying around about our august, soon-to-be-wearing-an-orange-jumpsuit governor Roddy, and the lovely and oh so eloquent Mrs Roddy. Of course, that’s not sayin’ much, since dead people have been part of Chicago politics forever. I’m just sayin’.
But can we cut the crap already, and drop the use of the word ‘allegedly’ from the Blagojovich story? That’s like sayin’ Bartman didn’t cost us the Series cuz it wasn’t proven in a court of law. It was on tape, pal. Bartman did it. You saw it. I saw it. Friggin’ Hellen Keller woulda seen that. And Blago? His I’ll-make-you-an-offer-you-can’t-refuse back scratching has been preserved in full Dolby digital glory. Along with the supporting, delicate and poetic demonstration of the english language by that *%@# Lady Macbeth — as so perfectly anointed by the Trib.
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Was it just me, or did anyone else (besides Phillies and Rays fans) feel that even if you used the $27 million microscope at the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory you wouldn’t have found one fly speck of drama in this year’s Series?
I kid you not, this was one anti-climactic Fall Classic, was it not? I mean, tip of the Joe Schlombowski lid to the Phils (though, personally, I thought Dick Cheney would appear in drag on Dancing with the Stars before Phily would win it all). And that Cole Hammels guy. He was Mr. Nastypants, I’ll give him that, pallie. But if a rain delay is the defining moment of a not-exactly-down-to-the-wire showdown, well, ’nuff said. Wake me when it’s over.
Which brings me to the point of this diatribe. What the hell do we do to get us through to mid-Feb when pitchers and catchers report to spring training?
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Regarding Manny’s whereabouts next year, I quote … “I want to see who is the highest bidder,” Ramirez said after the Dodgers’ NLCS loss to the Philadephia Phillies. “Gas is up and so am I.”
What a friggin’ a-hole.
I grant you, he’s not alone. Everywhere you turn you got guys hitting a buck-75 going to arbitration cuz they think they’re lightin’ the world on fire. But, exxxxccuuuuuuuusse me! This guy was basically asked off the Red Sox by his teammates because he couldn’t be counted on. He made it crystal clear that he didn’t want to play for Boston anymore by dogging it, and pretty much treated Epstein, the owners, the rest of the team, and the fans the same way a baby treats a diaper. Well let me tell you Manny, you are not well-loved when your team dumps you but pays the remaining $7 million on your contract while you play for someone else. That pretty much says it all. In fact, it says you’re not just a garden variety a-hole, you’re a large, economy, only-available-at-Costco sized a-hole; with a capital ‘A’ and a ‘hole’ you could drive a cement truck through.
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