Eight Bits of Baseball Fun: RBI Baseball

I realized recently that one of my most prized possessions is a mint condition eight-bit Nintendo Entertainment System. It's in mint condition because my brothers and I have always taken good care of our stuff, and it's a prized possession because sometimes you just get the urge to play a video game that has only two main buttons and a directional pad.

There's something magnificent about the fact that I got in on the ground floor of the Nintendo revolution and that the same small gray box that brought me so much joy throughout the 1980s is still alive and kicking, giving me the (Nintendo) power to face Piston Honda in the Punch Out ring, smash Koopa Troopas with Super Mario and hit a home run with George Brett.

That last example is the one that brings me back to my eight-bit roots most frequently: the original RBI Baseball. In a world of baseball video games that offer photo-realistic stadiums and computer-generated players who share the same facial expressions and superstitious tics as their real-life counterparts, I still crave the simplicity of this 1987 classic. The players don't really even have faces.

Aside from the nostalgia of using players who are now already inducted in or eligible for the Baseball Hall of Fame, the controls are surprisingly nimble and a deft tap of the directional pad can yield a knee-buckling strike. The ability to steal a base with the push of a button always resulted in a devilish game of cat and mouse that allowed my brother and I to play out our sibling rivalry between the foul lines. The game also features a style of defense usually reserved for t-ball teams: When you move your left fielder to go after a ball down the third base line, your entire team moves in that direction along with him. Give me the simple life.

Adding to the nostalgia factor is RBI Baseball's MIDI soundtrack that is permanently etched on my soul. I just found a website that has all the game's greatest hits, including such favorites as "introductory game music," "game music with runners on base" and my personal favorite, the immortal "game music with empty bases." That one even has a techno remix. I think I just found myself a new ringtone.

Some people need their MTV, but I need my NES. If it ever dies of natural causes, I will not only bury it in the backyard, but also immediately hop on eBay to find a replacement. How else is Rick Sutcliffe going to throw a no-hitter these days?

Ron Santo: A Wonderful Life

With Cubs legend Ron Santo passing away during the Christmas season, I can't help but notice a parallel between his extraordinary life and my favorite Christmas movie, It's A Wonderful Life.

In the immortal holiday classic, George Bailey is a man with lofty goals whose life is not going according to his plans. He wants nothing more than to leave the small town of his birth, attend college, travel the world and plan big cities. None of that ever happens, but divine intervention eventually leads George Bailey to realize the enormous impact his existence has had on the lives of those around him. He didn’t need the recognition, wealth and fame he so craved to make a lasting impression on the world.

It’s A Wonderful Life might as well be subtitled The Ron Santo Story. Ronnie had dreams of winning a World Series as a player, of being recognized for his outstanding career by being inducted into Cooperstown and of watching his beloved Chicago Cubs win the World Series from his post in the broadcast booth. None of that ever happened, but Santo didn’t need a visit from Clarence the angel to embrace his wonderful life. He knew how blessed he was and that he could use his talents and fame to positively impact the world around him.

And did he ever.

As I alternately laughed uproariously and choked back tears today listening to interviews with Santo’s colleagues intermingled with highlights from his Cubs broadcasting career, I realized anew the impression he made on my life. Usually when a notable athlete/celebrity/dignitary passes away, I feel a sense of detached sadness, but this is the first time that such a passing has filled me with a true sense of grief. I will add my sentiments to the throngs of people who never met Ronnie in person, but feel as if they’ve lost a dear friend.

Many people have already said that Ron Santo was the consummate Chicago Cubs fan and that is certainly true. I spent many a summer day sharing the heart-pounding experience of a Cubs game with Santo and play-by-play man Pat Hughes. While Pat stuck to the script and gave a gripping account of the action on the field, Ronnie could be counted on to deliver the exact rollercoaster of emotional responses that every other Cubs fan was feeling. He was the unapologetic, loud-mouthed, die-hard Cubs fan in the booth and that is exactly what we wanted him to be. Anyone who complained about his lack of skill as a color commentator or listened to the Pat and Ron Show expecting to hear great insight from Ron Santo was completely missing the point and quite simply barking up the wrong tree.

Santo embodied the often bipolar nature of the Cub fan. His blood pressure would rise and fall with the tenor of the baseball season. He would exult in a come-from-behind victory, howl during a horrible inning and mope after a tough loss. But win or lose, he was always back the next day and he was always expecting victory. At a very young age, Santo hitched his wagon to a team that frequently serves lemons to its fans. Thankfully, he quickly developed a winning recipe for lemonade.

Beyond the baseball diamond, Santo saved himself some lemonade, too. He faced adversity with a smile, even when it forced a dramatic altering of his goals and plans. His battle with diabetes has been well-documented and cost him a longer playing career and eventually both of his legs. Anyone who doubts the depth or authenticity of his eternal optimism need only watch This Old Cub, the excellent and inspirational 2004 documentary that shows the rigorous routine of his daily life. Better yet, you can read about it in his own words.

Cubs baseball will never be the same again. The Pat and Ron Show has had its series finale (sadly wasted on one of the most forgettable Cubs seasons in recent history) and the team has lost its greatest booster.

But for once, at least the posthumous canonization of an athlete is well deserved. Santo’s life was an inspiration. I’m sure he would want his death to be a wakeup call for all of us: No matter what you’re going through, it can still be a wonderful life.

Thanks, Ronnie. Rest in peace.

[Originally posted to my Cubs blog, Nearly Next Year]

Cubs Fans: Read My Cubs Blog

One of the reasons that I haven't been updating this blog quite so frequently of late is because I have been spreading myself a bit thinner in the blogosphere.

From now on, all blog posts related to the Chicago Cubs will appear on my new Cubs blog, Nearly Next Year. This is probably good news for those of you who didn't care about my Cubs posts anyway. :-)

My latest post explores which celebrities might play the roles of certain Cubs and Cardinals players if Hollywood ever decided to make a movie about the heated rivalry between the two teams. Check it out!

Where were you 10 years ago?

On this day 10 years ago, Cubs fans had a reason to cheer when young pitching phenom Kerry Wood did the seemingly impossible. By mystifying the high-powered Houston Astros for 20 strikeouts, he tied the Major League single-game strikeout record, earning a special place in the hearts of all Cubs fans as well as an annual page in Cubs trivia desk calendars.

This happened a decade ago? It sure doesn't feel like it, as I vividly remember that rainy day in May. It was such a quick game that I actually didn't see a single strike, but I remember driving home from high school and listening to the postgame show in disbelief. The Cubs continued to stun their fans that season when they went on to win the Wild Card and reached the playoffs for the first time in nine years.

This kind of stuff simply didn't happen to the Cubs back then. My favorite line in today's Tribune story about Wood's anniversary is the attendance figure from that fateful game. 15,758? That's less than half of a typical Wrigley crowd these days, and it's a telling reality that more "recent" Cubs fans probably can't wrap their minds around.

I remember attending games throughout the 1990s when the upper deck was an empty sea of green seats and unclaimed foul balls. Ten years later I find myself sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in those very seats because they are the only tickets I can afford in the only section that didn't immediately sell out.

Yes, the fortunes and popularity of the Cubs have changed significantly, but I take a certain pride in the fact that I was tuned into the team 10 years ago when it wasn't nearly so trendy. It's days like today that lifelong Cubs fans can bask in the longevity of their love affair with the Lovable Losers.

Ten years later, an older, wiser and surgically repaired Kerry Wood took the mound in the ninth inning for the Cubs tonight in his new role as a closer. Against all odds and every arm injury imaginable, Wood has largely silenced the critics and returned as a positive force in the Cubs lineup.

Perhaps Wood's up-and-down-and-up career can serve as a metaphor for the Cubs as a whole. Who doesn't love happy endings?

An Open Letter to Marty Brennaman

Dear Mr. Brennaman,

This letter is regarding your recent comments during a Cincinnati Reds radio telecast in which you asserted that Chicago Cubs fans are "the most obnoxious fans in baseball."

I cannot stand idly by while you carelessly hurl insults at me and my ilk. As a lifelong Cubs fan and a regular member of the Wrigley Field faithful, I take your comments personally and find them both offensive and illogical.

While I agree that the actions of the 15 fans who threw baseballs on the field to protest a Reds home run were regrettable, I can't believe that you would generalize the character of the entire Cubs Fan Nation on the basis of a handful of hooligans.

You said the behavior was "typical of Chicago Cubs fans." If this were typical, wouldn't Wrigley have major security problems every time 40,000 fans streamed through the gates? If memory serves, it was a different Chicago baseball club that famously and repeatedly had trouble keeping its fans in line. Throwing balls on to the field is unnecessary, but it's a far cry from the uncontrolled chaos of a Disco Demolition Night or a Ten Cent Beer Night (to cite an example from your team's home state).

It's true that Wrigley Field is routinely filled with a contingent of idiotic yuppies who gab on their cell phones while swigging their $8 beers. They get drunk, take off their shirts and pay attention to everything except the action on the field.

But these are not Cubs fans.

They might be wearing (or not wearing, depending on the inning) an Aramis Ramirez jersey, but they couldn't tell you that Ramirez was acquired in an exciting mid-season trade in 2003. They have no clue that your own son was once the play-by-play voice of the Cubs in the early 1990s. They have no history, and Cubs fans are uniquely defined by their thick-and-thin history with the team. These grown-up frat boys are sitting at Wrigley because it's the thing to do and there's a good chance that their friends might see them on TV. Every sporting event has this class of customer and the Cubs are unfortunately blessed with more than their share, thanks to the team's humunguous fanbase and national exposure. However, none of this changes the character of the true Cubs fan, who will root, root, root for the Cubbies regardless of the standings. How can you be so blindly judgmental?

Your self-righteous "apology" to true Cubs fans was immediately rendered null and void when it was followed by your assertion that Cardinals fans are "hands down the best fans in baseball." Are you consciously trying to raise the collective ire of everyone who bleeds Cubbie Blue? It's working. You've managed to momentarily take the heat off of previous Cublic Enemy Number One, Sam Zell.

I can't believe that you actually stand by the majority of the claims you made. They are ludicrous and baseless, as any random sampling of Friendly Confine fans would quickly prove. I hope you will soon come to your senses, fully apologize for the hateful aspects of your comments and stop raining on the possibilities of a postseason parade. Cubs fans aren't wishing ill fortune on the Reds. To use your words, the Reds can only "blame themselves" for that.

I must reiterate that you have taken on a formidable foe, as true Cubs fans are nothing if not indomitable. We have a 100-year history of dealing with criticism and responding to haters. You've got our attention, but you haven't gotten our goat. (And, no, real Cubs fans don't believe in that goat nonsense, either. At least we can agree on how "silly" that is.)

I'll save you a bleacher seat at the 2008 World Series at Wrigley. But if you catch a Cubs' home run ball, you better not throw it back.

Sincerely,

A Real Cubs Fan

Experimenting with Sprout

I recently came across Sprout, an online tool for making Flashy interactive presentations. I tried my hand at a photo gallery and found it both easy to use and unexpectedly broad in terms of what you can do with it. If you put in some time, you could make some snazzy presentations. Compared to learning how to use Flash itself (which I'm also in the process of doing), this was a walk in the park. The only downside I encountered was that photos had to be 1MB or less. In this day and age, that's asking a lot. I got around it by uploading the photos to Webshots first and linking to them, which worked fine, but was a bit tedious.

My finished product is below. Aside from showing the capabilities of Sprout, I hope it will serve as a gentle-yet-realistic reminder and pick-me-up to fellow Cubs fans, considering the Cubs have now started the season at 0-2.



Click here for the non-resized version.

Harry Caray Parody Past Its Prime

I'm not the first to bring this up, but I'm getting really sick of watching AT&T's lame Harry Caray commercials. They are an annoying affront to Cubs fans, comedy and Caray's memory. See for yourself:


Now imagine that this commercial is repeating every seven minutes and you'll begin to understand the agony.

The ad is off-putting in every possible way. First of all, this year marks the 10th anniversary of Harry Caray's death. This puts the ads in questionable taste as it is. Caray was a living legend in Chicago, even though the baseball team he broadcasted for consistently found itself in the gutter of the standings. (Ironically, this commercial is probably the first time that Harry's been spinning in his grave over something besides the way the Cubbies are playing...)

Secondly and more importantly, the commercials simply aren't funny. A Harry Caray impression that isn't funny may sound like an oxymoron, but somehow AT&T is up to the challenge. If you don't have the writing staff of SNL and the genius of Will Ferrell, don't even try to compete.

The man behind the Caray costume is local comedian John Campanera. In his defense, I remember when he appeared on a Cubs telecast a few years after Caray's death and delivered a spot-on impression with his own Caray-inspired material that was quite hilarious. Clearly the impression has not aged well. I hope the public outcry has been sufficient enough for them to stop this stupid ad campaign. We were much better off when Harry was doing his own commercials.

So now let's cleanse the palette with a real Harry Caray impersonation. When you watch this one, you're pretty sure Harry would be laughing along with you, and that makes all the difference.

---

UPDATE: Dutchie Caray has joined the public outcry against these abominable ads and they have been pulled off the air!

Spring Fever: Cubs' Owner Seeing Green

The Cubs have been honing their craft in Mesa, Arizona for nearly a month now, and, after winning their division last season, they're poised to have a fairly successful campaign in 2008. It's not because they're so much better than everyone else, it's just that their division is remarkably horrible.

At the same time, the Lovable Losers' lovable new owner has been making a lot of noise about selling the team for an exorbitant sum and then selling the naming rights of historic Wrigley Field for a separate and equally exorbitant sum. Pretty much everyone in the world immediately spoke out against the idea of "Wrigley Field Powered By Google" (including me), so I won't belabor the point. Quite simply, a cold and calculating business decision like this will result in a gruesome homicide at the hands of an angry Cub fan mob. It would be difficult to find an unbiased jury for a fair trial, so the mob would probably be acquitted. Plus, the Cubs would have to find a new owner all over again. But, fear not, Ebenezer Zell! These are simply the shadows of things that may be...

Rather than taking a bath in the overheated hot tub of Cub fan contempt, Zell should realize that his newest "customers" have an undying devotion to his newest "product" and are willing to pony up plenty of cash--as long as he doesn't do anything to make them stage a boycott.

A perfect example of this devotion is the hunt for the elusive Cubs Season Ticket. I currently hold (and I'm not making this up) spot number 55,779 in the online waiting list for Cubs season tickets. Wrigley Field has a capacity of about 40,000 seats and even a number-phobe like me can do the math on this one. By the time I actually acquire a season ticket, the Cubs will have won the World Series at least three more times.

Clearly sensing the demand, the team recently created a new block of season ticket seats along the third base line near the Cubs bullpen. The tickets are being auctioned off by the Chicago Board Options Exchange and there are quite a few seats up for grabs. Several of the seat packages still didn't have any bids, so I cavalierly created an account and logged into the site. Sadly, I think I'm going to have to stick with the waiting list method, as the opening bid is $25,000 for the cheapest set of tickets.

I just hope Zell sells the team to someone who has a better sense of the fact that keeping the fans happy and excited means keeping your pockets lined with fans' money. If the owner cares about the team and cares about the fans, we'll gladly pay through the nose while we root, root, root for the Cubbies. With his actions thus far, Zell has reminded Cubs fans that baseball is a business before it's a game. We don't like hearing that.

Ideally, Zell will sell both the team and the naming rights to Willy Wonka. I mean, I would gladly go see the Cubs play in Oompa Loompa Stadium. And his method of distributing new season tickets would be much more exciting.

The Four Greatest Words In the English Language

"Pitchers and catchers report."

It doesn't matter how much snow is on the ground or how cold the wind chill factor makes it feel. It doesn't matter if you're wearing boots and pushing a shovel every morning. It doesn't even matter if Phil saw his shadow.

Thursday marks the official beginning of spring. The Chicago Cubs pitchers and catchers will report to Mesa, Arizona to begin training for the 2008 baseball season, my passion will awaken from its winter slumber and my mood will improve significantly. I don't have SAD --Seasonal Affective Disorder. I have BSAD--Baseball Seasonal Affective Disorder.

This season is particularly important for the Cubbies, as another losing effort will result in a centennial of World Series futility--and intense mockery from Cubs-haters the world over. But don't worry about that because this is the year!

To celebrate the joyous return of spring and Cubs baseball, I thought I would share the worst Cubs-themed video I've ever seen in my life. The following visual atrocity is the music video for Richard Marx's 1992 hit "Take This Heart." Disclaimer: I randomly came across this video on YouTube and am in no way a fan of the music produced by Richard Marx nor am I a proponent of the nearly mullet-like haircut sported by Marx and his band. I am also not responsible for any loss of hearing or vision induced by watching this video or the insanity that could follow from having this ditty stuck in your head the rest of the day. Enjoy!



When the Cubs reach the World Series this year, I sure hope Richard Marx makes the playoff roster...

Major League Baseball (brought to you by the highest bidder)

As Chicago is experiencing a 40-degree temperature drop today, I tried to warm myself with some news about my favorite summer pastime. Unfortunately, these five items just left me feeling even colder.

1. Welcome to Wal-Mart Field, Home of the Chicago Cubs
I know this is old news, but I have to address it. I don't care how much blood money Sam Zell could acquire by selling the Wrigley Field naming rights, that is something you don't even think about considering. Doesn't he understand the level of passion inherent in Cubs fan nation? He is lighting a match next to a powder keg by merely hinting at such an atrocity. When the Tribune Company owned the Cubs, they began the slippery slope of forsaking history for profitability by installing Under Armour ads in the outfield, adding more seats, creating a center field stadium club and whipping up various other ploys to squeeze a few more cents out of the Friendly Confines. But renaming the place? Even if all the original Wrigley trappings went unchanged--the manual scoreboard, the ivy walls, the familiar red and white marquee--it would still be morally wrong for the Cubs to cross the foul lines in a place that's no longer called Wrigley Field. (Plus, I can't imagine that a company would buy the stadium without plastering its wretched logo all over the field.) Don't bait us, Mr. Zell. The fans are your meal ticket. So why do I feel so powerless right now?


2. The Wrigleyville Hyatt Hotel
As long as we're renaming Wrigley Field, we might as well completely commercialize Wrigleyville as well. Bring on the Wrigleyville Hyatt Hotel and Apartment Complex! If there's one thing Wrigleyville needs, it's more congestion and commercialization. With the way Wrigleyville residents have put the kibosh on most expansionist plans proposed by the Cubs, I'm hoping this hotel idea will be met with similar disdain. A few years ago there were plans to build a parking garage and a Chicago Cubs museum across the street from Wrigley. Whatever happened to those blueprints?

3. Your Ad Here
The Boston Red Sox--who seem intent on becoming the slightly poorer man's version of the New York Yankees--will be wearing advertisements on their uniforms when they open the 2008 season in Tokyo. Apparently this is common practice in Japan, but against the rules in the MLB. I was going to make a really witty joke about what will happen when the Cubs discover this potential revenue stream, but apparently they already did this back in 2000. Maybe Zell will start peddling the Cubs to Japanese financiers and move them to a league where they can sell their jersey sleeves to corporations. Though, the absence of the Cubs would probably make the hotel entrepreneur pull out of Wrigleyville, so there could be a silver lining here.

4. Barry Bonds and the Quest for the Dropped Perjury Charges
Bonds' lawyers say that the charges in the indictment detailing his alleged perjury during the BALCO probe are so vague that Bonds can't figure out which lies he should lie about not having told. The only way this situation could get any worse is if his lawyers resorted to using lame baseball analogies. Oh, wait.

The motion asks U.S. District Judge Susan Illston to consider the argument Feb. 29, urging her to either toss out the case or order prosecutors to rewrite the indictment to clarify the charges.

"Even Barry Bonds cannot be expected to make contact with a fastball, slider and knuckler thrown to him simultaneously," Bonds' attorneys wrote.

Guilty as charged.

5. The Roger Clemens Report
I've got to be honest: Roger Clemens has always kind of annoyed me. He was one of those pitchers who was so good for so long that he appeared superhuman and he was a sure thing for whichever team he played for. He came out of several retirements to annihilate the Cubs with the Houston Astros and his buddy Andy Pettite, which I found very annoying. Even his Sega Genesis baseball video game was annoying to play, as baseball video games go.

What I'm trying to say is that the steroid allegations don't surprise me and his incredible career stats make it difficult for me to believe that he wasn't injecting himself with something. Now we'll have to endure months of he said/she said. Since a 60 Minutes interview wasn't enough to clear his name, the Clemens party has now released the Clemens Report, which presents their version of why his career statistics are so superhumanly excellent. It turns out that Clemens is just the latest in a long line of mutants who have pitched with great success well past the ripe old baseball age of 40. Go pick on Nolan Ryan and leave the Rocket in peace.

Remember when baseball was just a game? Me neither. But I'll bet it was nice.

A Christmas Break: Baseball's Bad News

This just in...anyone who ever did anything notable in baseball took steroids at some point in their career.

I know I promised that I would stick to Christmas topics for the month of December, but the release of the Mitchell Report on steroid use in Major League Baseball is just too big to ignore.

Roger Clemens? Andy Pettitte? Gary Sheffield? Miguel Tejada? If not for the context, Mitchell's list of names sounds more like an enviable fantasy baseball lineup or a list of future Hall of Famers, not a rogues gallery of cheaters who shoved needles into their butts for a little extra muscle mass with a side of back acne.

My interests immediately gravitated to any ex-Cubs who were in the report. Most of them were extremely horrible when they were on the Cubs (Todd Hundley, Jerry Hairston Jr., Kent Mercker), which immediately begs the question of "Why would you take steroids when you suck anyway?" but also provides the pathetic-yet-undeniable answer: "Because I suck and I was desperate to stay in the Majors."

The one ex-Cub that I was truly saddened to see on the list was Glenallen Hill, the big-swinging pinch hitter who served two separate tours of duty with the Cubs in the 1990s. He was one of those electric players who would come up with the game on the line in the bottom of the ninth and hit a towering home run to seal the victory. I don't know the actual stats and I wouldn't want to ruin the mystique by looking them up, but I remember seeing him do it several times and I always felt a child-like confidence that he could win the game with one swing whenever we needed him to. Even though he denies ever taking the human growth hormone that he ordered, his physical appearance was Hagridesque--"too big to be allowed"--and I thought of him as mythically strong. There's really no way he wasn't on some kind of juice. Same goes for Clemens. If your name has been mentioned in this context, there is probably enough evidence to soil your reputation and call your stats into question.

I just wish it wasn't all these players and all these stats. Where does baseball go from here? I guess the Black Sox don't look so bad anymore. After all, that was just one World Series, not an entire era of baseball.

What a shame.

Anatomy of a Collapse

What a difference a week makes.

This time last week I was basking in the glow of postseason paradise. I was rearranging my schedule around the National League Division Series telecasts. I was decorating my car with Cubs decals, a Cubs steering wheel cover and even a pair of Cubs fuzzy dice. (Editor's note: The Cubs being in the playoffs is the only event that would ever compel me to hang fuzzy dice from my rear-view mirror.) Basically, I was living in the sure and certain hope that the Cubs would roll over the Triple-A Minor League Arizona Diamondbacks and at least fight their way to the pennant, if not the World Series. Things didn't turn out that way. In fact, the Cubs played like the Flubs (as my Grandpa used to call them) and I was at Wrigley Field to watch the team trudge through NLDS Game 3, ending the season with a glorious whimper and a horde of dejected fans. Here's my report from the field.

The Alpha and the Omega
Since I was at Wrigley for the home opener in April, I attended both the first and the last home games of the 2007 Cubs season. In April, I wore a hat, coat and gloves and froze through a Cubs loss to the Houston Astros. In October, I wore shorts and a t-shirt and spent the first four innings sweating in the sun. I can't begin to explain Chicago weather, but it felt like a Saturday in July this past weekend. Too bad it wasn't--the Cubs were actually winning in July.

Standing Room Only
This was my first "Standing Room Only" experience at any ticketed event and it's a bit unnerving. When you have a ticket for a seat--no matter how bad the seat may be--you have a claim to a designated area in the park. As long as you have the ticket, you can sit in that seat and have the usher remove anyone who claims otherwise. With SRO tickets, you lay claim to whatever amount of pavement you can straddle and that's it. If you cede an inch to the drunk guy standing next to you, that's an inch you can't get back. If you leave your place to go buy peanuts, you better have a friend (widely) standing guard. The most annoying aspect of this is seeing non-Cubs fans who were able to obtain legitimate ticketed seats to the game. I understand you would like to be witness to history, but why are you taking seats out of the hands of long-suffering and well-deserving Cubs fans? Go home and watch the game on your HD TV, Indians fan. Your team isn't even in the same league.

The Ecstasy and the Agony
For those who have never experienced a home Cubs game, let me tell you that the vibe at Wrigley Field is always electric. Cubs fans are the greatest fans in the world because they actually pay attention to the game and vocally rise to the occasion at all the right moments, without the aid of a "Make Some Noise" announcement on a Jumbo-tron (cough**Arizona**cough). The energy was never higher than it was in the fifth inning on Saturday, when the Cubbies had the bases juiced and one of their best hitters at the plate. Down by only two runs at this point, it seemed like the makings of a turning point. The frenzy reached a fever pitch as the count went to 3-2, but Mark DeRosa weakly connected with the ball and dribbled yet another ground ball to the shortstop for an inning-ending double play. I've never experienced such a collective roar of agony and it was all downhill from there. The Cubs had the support of 40,000+ screaming fans willing them to string together some hits, but it still wasn't enough. Baseball is an odd sport fueled by a combination of brute strength, skill and timing and downright luck. The Cubs exhibited little of any of those characteristics. The Diamondbacks were not a better team on paper, but they played better on the field and that's all that matters.

What the L?
The blue and white "W" flag that is raised above Wrigley after each Cubs win has received a lot of exposure this year, as vendors have been selling home versions of the flag to fans. Until Saturday's loss, I never knew that there is a black (or navy blue) and white "L" flag that is hoisted in defeat. This seems like a lousy tradition for a team with the Cubs' track record. Can't the absence of a "W" flag tell the sour truth just as well? I wonder if they sell "L" flags. Probably not a very hot item.

Never Leave Early
Despite the ultimate outcome of the game, real Cubs fans know that you should never leave a Cubs game before the last out is recorded. While crazy things happen to hinder the Cubs chances of winning, even crazier things can happen and lead to late-inning comebacks. I've seen it dozens of times. Watching a steady stream of people march down the ramp from their playoff-price-increased upper deck seats in the top of the 8th inning was a bit disheartening. Fortunately, all the drunk people around me were loudly and obscenely questioning the Cubs fanhood of these "beat the rush" types.

Wrigley Cathedral?
The great W.P. Kinsella once wrote that "A ballpark at night is more like a church than a church." Walking around Wrigley after the game and snapping dozens of photos of the field, I'm inclined to agree. Regardless of the final outcome on the historic manual scoreboard, it's a heckuva place to catch a ballgame.

The Magic Number is 100
With the 2007 season in the can, it's time for Cubs fans the world over to play the waiting game again. Next year will mark the 100th anniversary of the Cubs' most recent World Series Championship. We'll see if "It's Gonna Happen" next year or if the wait will continue and White Sox fans will have new insults to hurl. The hardest part about all of this for me is that my one true passion now goes into hibernation for six months. I guess that's good news for any readers of this blog who don't care about baseball.

But I kind of wonder what I'm going to write about now...

Now Boarding: Cubs Bandwagon

Since my last post, the Cubbies became the Central Division champions, I bought my 20th Cubs hat and the Arizona Diamondbacks await us on Wednesday. With the Cubs in the playoffs for only the 15th time in history, you can bet that the Cubs bandwagon is getting a little crowded.

I was still an undergrad the last time this happened, and I vividly remember the sudden influx in Cubs memorabilia and clothing that started appearing all over campus. It should come as no surprise to anyone that this gets on my nerves to no end. I don't mind if you want to join the celebration or if you're curious about the outcome of the Cubs' playoff run. But don't pretend that you're a Cubs fan. You're not. You're just a lemming who bought a hat.

Achieving the rank of Cubs fan is nearly impossible when the Cubs are doing well. I won't believe that it's for real until you've been a Cubs fan during a prolonged dry spell. My dry spell was the 1990s. I attended many home losses at Wrigley. I collected baseball cards of mediocre players like Rey Sanchez and the unfortunately named Paul Assenmacher. I scoured team statistics in the sports section each day. And I generally followed the team with the same voracity that I did during the years when they actually succeeded. This is the commitment that is required of every Cubs fan--to remain true to the team during a troubling last-place season in 2006, so that you may revel in the glory of a pennant race in 2007. It's the same team, no matter what the standings say.

If you really are committed to becoming a true Cubs fan, you need to start your Cubs education immediately. Although unconditional love for the Cubs could be considered unintelligent by outsiders, Cubs fans are actually among the smartest in baseball. We know the history of our team, we have a very long memory and we're eager to share our knowledge with you. The Chicago Tribune ran a fun piece on the 99 Things Every Real Cubs Fan Should Know. I pride myself on the fact that I already knew the answer to the majority of these well-researched questions. Even if you're not a Cubs fan, you should read it for a taste of the colorful and bizarre history this team has endured over the years. Maybe it will help you understand why there is such devotion from the team's real fans. Being a Cubs fan is a way of life and a full-time job. Start studying or take off the Cubs hat.

P.S. Along with the majority of Cubs Fan Nation, my prediction is that the Cubbies will take the National League Pennant in four games against the D-Backs. I'd prefer that they do it in three games, since I'll be at Game 3, but let's not get greedy.

P.P.S. Check out the 2007 remix of "Go Cubs Go." I'm a sucker for any Cub-related novelty song. Even a remix.

The Way It's Going To Be

I know how this is going to end. There's only one way it can.

Sure, the sunny Cubs optimist in me wants the Northsiders to clinch the division tomorrow. Despite being swept by the Marlins in a truly embarrassing effort this week, the Cubbies are in a position to do just that. The Magic Number has been reduced to two, so a Cubs win and a Brewers loss tomorrow would mean that it's time for me to go out and buy a new Central Division Champs t-shirt. It would also give meaning to my standing-room-only tickets for Game 3 of the NLDS. (Thanks for the tix, Andrew! I'll name my first-born son after you! Or after Alfonso Soriano...it depends on his postseason batting average.)

But I don't think that's how it's going to end. My inner sunny Cubs optimist is tempered by a hardened 99-freaking-years-since-a-championship realist, who has other ideas about the way the Cubs will win this. The dialogue in my head goes something like this:

Optimist: "The Cubs are going all the way this year!"
Realist: "Yeah, but they just lost three in a row to one of the worst teams in baseball."
Optimist: "I don't care! I know this is The Year!"
Realist: "Bartman!"
Optimist: "Oh.....yeah."

So here's my theory in all it's optimistic-realistic glory:

The Cubs have a history of losing. That's a well-documented fact. So how will they make the playoffs in 2007--the year when they are destined to finally reclaim the World Championship? They'll make the playoffs the only way they know how--by losing. That's right. They are going to lose every game for the rest of the regular season, but the Brewers will also lose two games, thus making the Cubs the reigning champs of the Central Division. The Lovable Losers will win by losing.

They will then waltz through the playoffs in dramatic fashion and wipe clean the slate on a near-century of failure, just in the nick of time. I can't wait!

The Hunt for Red (and Blue) October

No matter how horrendous a season the Cubs might be having, their season always seems to play out like a Hollywood script. There are the perennial villains--the Cardinals, the Brewers, and sometimes the Astros. There are the internal conflicts--injuries to superstar players, slap fights in the dugout, a corked bat, mid-season trades, slumping players, and quibbles over playing time. There are the unscripted ad libs--unbelievable catches, walk-off home runs, bench-clearing brawls, the Miracle Mets, Steve Bartman and a limitless number of other extenuating circumstances that affected North Side fortunes over the years. All of these factors coalesce into a wacky yet irresistible plotline that seems to get more outrageous each season. Fortunately, this year's plot has a middling Cubs team inexplicably at the top of the Central division, two and a half games above the Brewers with just seven games to play.

The Magic Number is 6, folks!

I hope you grasp the enormity of this. By this point in the season, The Magic Number is usually 15, as in February 15, when pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training to give it another try in 2008. I'm usually watching the last Cubs game because I know I won't get a whiff of Cubs baseball until April. But something different is happening this year. Against all odds, the gates to the playoffs have been left unlocked, the security guard is fast asleep and the Cubbies are sauntering through.

Admittedly, nothing is set in stone yet and Cubs fans can't celebrate until mathematics tell us to. But that's why Cubs baseball is the most exciting spectacle on Earth. At this point, I'm just enjoying the ride. But I'm also fully confident that I will be picking up a Cubs Central Division Champs t-shirt and hat by this time next week. 99 years is a long wait, but I really think this is The Year.

As usual, this is The Year.

It's always like this when the Cubs are in contention late in the season. And when I say always, what I really mean is "the two other times I've experienced it." I start to eat, sleep and breath Cubs baseball (Technically, I don't know how you "sleep" Cubs baseball, but I'll find a way). Each day, I devour the Chicago Tribune sports section and read every word pertaining to the Cubs. If the game is on cable, I have to be near a radio. If the game is televised on WGN, I clear my schedule to watch. Conversations frequently consist of rehashing last night's game, complaining about players who are not performing well and dreaming about the road less traveled by that leads to a World Series championship.

Having a steady paycheck only fans the flames of my obsession. I've already bought tickets to two stretch-run games, including a very important rescheduled bout with the Cardinals, and I'm already budgeting for my "Playoff Tickets Fund" that will hopefully be my gateway to October baseball live at Wrigley.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. The Cubbies still have to survive a month of regular season baseball and that is no short order. If I had to sum up the 2007 Chicago Cubs in one word, that word would be "inconsistent." If I had two words, I would use a hyphen and call them "mind-bogglingly inconsistent." On any given day, one of two Cubs teams might take the field.

On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, the team with the dominant starting pitching, explosively rallying offense and decently effective bullpen will show up. You'll see Ryan Theriot stretch a long single into a double. You'll see a Derrek Lee home run. You'll see Ryan Dempster save a game without raising the collective blood pressure of the Cubs faithful. The entire team runs like a well-oiled machine and they appear nearly unbeatable.

Unfortunately, the Cubs' understudies play on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They wear the same numbers and the same pinstripes, but the intensity is gone. The starting pitchers throw batting practice and the once-proud Cubs hitters can't get the ball out of the infield. There is a listless feel to the so-called action on the field and I'm taken back to the endless seasons of the early '90s, when the highlight of the game was Harry Caray's signature stretch. If they don't win, it's a shame? There was a lot of shame to go around back then.

But the '90s are over. Inconsistencies aside, the Cubs can make the playoffs this year if they really want to. No other teams are stepping up to run away with the Central Division and good fortune appears to reside at Clark and Addison this season. Even when the team has had setbacks, they've still somehow remained afloat. Now they need to take what's being handed to them and not stop until their ring fingers are a bit heavier.

The great George Will once wrote that Cubs fans are 90 percent scar tissue. I believe the percentage has gone up microscopically every season, as we endure the annual exercise of the Boys in Blue squandering another opportunity to end the near century-long World Series drought. Time is running out.

I am a Cubs fan, so I know that this is The Year. There's no doubt! But I am a Cubs fan, so I already know that next year will be, too.

Play it again, Steve. Go Cubs!

In the News

A few quick hits for a gloomy Wednesday afternoon.

Of Mite and Men
I have given a name to my pain and it is the oak leaf gall mite. Details are sketchy, but this microscopic annoyance mite (tee hee) be responsible for the strange and numerous itchy red bumps that have been plaguing my entire family since last week. The bumps don't seem to heal or fade away, they just get more intensely itchy. They also don't look much like mosquito bites, so we were at a loss for what the cause might be. Apparently, so is everyone else. On the upside, I guess this means we don't have West Nile Virus. By the way, if you don't want to get your own coating of attractive red bumps, doctors are offering a very useful summertime tip: stay indoors.

"Tribute" is such a strong word
August 16 is the 30th anniversary of Elvis Presley's death and his daughter Lisa Marie is celebrating by doing what any respectable daughter of a deceased music legend would do--shoehorning her less-than-stellar vocals into one of Daddy's beloved hits. On Friday she will honor the King's legend with the release of a video duet of "In the Ghetto." (I'm not sure why she chose this particular Elvis song. Maybe because of its eerie similarities to her gritty experience growing up in Graceland.) But don't bother waiting until Friday--there's an even better Elvis tribute to be had online. Check out Wing's cover of "Love Me Tender." No, not Wings, it's just Wing. She's got a pretty good version of ABBA's "Dancing Queen," too. Long live the King!

Stretch Run or Stretch Walk?
With the baseball season quickly winding down, there's more "will they or won't they?" tension between the Cubs and the playoffs than there ever was between Jim and Pam. For once, the Cubs are talented enough (or the rest of the Central Division is just lousy enough) to make the playoffs the old-fashioned way, like they did in 2003. Unfortunately, the team's will to win seems to ebb and flow with the Lake Michigan tide. One day they play like champions, the next day they look like they might struggle against my softball team. This is what I've come to expect as a Cubs fan though, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Actually, I did have it another way last year, when the Cubs finished in the basement of the Central Division and the only (de)pressing question was "will they lose 100 games?" This kind of tension is preferable. (SOX FANS PLEASE NOTE: I wrote an entire paragraph without making a single disparaging remark about your team's horrendous season.)

Very Clever, Mr. Bonds: Breaking Records and Breaking Spirits

Many in the blogosphere have already sounded off on the tragic heroics of Barry Bonds, but I feel compelled to add my own two cents.

Tuesday was a sad and historic day for baseball and its fans. Bonds didn't break just any record--he broke our national pastime's most popular and monumental record. Even casual baseball fans probably could have told you that the home run record was 755 and that Hank Aaron was the sport's reigning home run king.

Throughout my life, I've always found it somewhat awe-inspiring to be aware that history is being written in my midst. I appreciate watching events unfold that will be recorded and talked about for time immemorial. I didn't feel any of that on Tuesday. The record was broken and the majority of baseball fandom responded with a disinterested (albeit somewhat disgusted) shrug. This isn't how the sport's mightiest record should fall. As usual, America's Finest News Source summed it up quite perfectly.



I suppose it's easy to romanticize the past, especially when it comes to baseball. Hollywood helps with this--whether it's Rookie of the Year, in which a 12-year-old Chicago Cubs pitcher strikes out a pre-steroids Barry Bonds (watch the video to see a skinny Barry Bonds in action!) or Field of Dreams, a movie that makes grown men tear up (myself included) at the thought of having a catch with their fathers.

As James Earl Jones' character so eloquently puts it in that film,

"The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and that could be again."

With this as our creed, Joe DiMaggio, Babe Ruth, Ted Williams and the rest of baseball's beatified become untouchable American heroes in our athletic consciousness. As this article points out, these players were far from perfect, with imperfections ranging from depression to nasty tempers to severe alcoholism. But there's a big difference between being a jerk and being a cheat. All evidence currently supports the hypothesis that Barry Bonds is both.

There are many flawed individuals who have risen to prominence because they are good at what they do and hold records because they have earned them. There are also a great number of successful cheaters who have had their fame snatched from them when they were found out. The Bonds phenomenon is an anomaly--an acknowledged (if not convicted) cheater is being recognized for his greatness even though everyone knows it's a sham and a shame. The biggest shame of all, as Tribune columnist Mike Downey points out, is that Barry Bonds was a Hall of Fame ball player before anyone injected anything into his rear end. He might not have the home run record right now, but he would have something that he has now lost forever--the respect of the fans he plays for.

Congratulations, Barry Bonds. I hope it was worth it.*


*It may not be printed in the record books, but we can all see the asterisk.

Touch 'Em All

Aside from the exorbitant contracts and the existence of Barry Bonds, the home run is perhaps the most selfish aspect of America's national pastime. Rabid pursuit of the long ball has brought some players to the heights of Cooperstown while forever tainting the careers of others.

Nevertheless, they say you never forget your first home run. I'm actually not sure who said that, but it was probably Bob Costas. I know I'll never forget mine. It came four days ago.
The thermometer was topping 90 degrees at suburban Chino Field and my 16-inch softball team had already won the first game of our doubleheader. We had a two-run lead in the third inning and I had been uncharacteristically hitting the cover off of the ball all afternoon.

Being a Southpaw, I stepped into the batter's box and was greeted by the usual cat-calls of "Lefty!" and "Move Over!", as the opposing team shifted their defense to account for my ilk's peculiar penchant for pulling the ball to right field. While lefties are often treated like lepers in grade school classes and at the dinner table ("Stop bumping my elbow!"), left-handedness is decidedly respected between the white lines of the baseball field.

My offensive strategy in softball consists of swinging at the first pitch every time I step up to the plate. I can't control it. I tell myself that I'm going to let this one go by or only swing if it's perfect, but it doesn't matter. The slowly pitched softball always takes on the proportions of a watermelon and I can't resist taking a hack.

I should have known this at-bat would be my date with destiny when I managed to let the first pitch go by without swinging. The second pitch was a watermelon though, and I swung with all my might. Living up to my lefty hype, the ball sailed directly to right-center field, bouncing between the fielders who had clearly not heard that I was a "Lefty!" and thus they should "Move Over!"

The rest of the action is somewhat of a blur. Being a public park, Chino Field has no fence, so a home run is promised to no one and the traditional home run trot is completely out of the question. I knew this ball had the distance for a double, but I had underestimated the ineptitude of the defense. As I rounded second, I heard my teammates yelling for me to keep going. As I came into third, I saw the cut-off man throwing the ball toward the infield and I motored home. The throw home sailed to the backstop fence and I crossed the plate.

This was momentous. In seven-plus years of youth baseball, I had never scaled these heights and always dreamt of the day that I would serve as my own RBI. Now the prophecy had been fulfilled and I felt like an 11-year-old again when I returned to the dugout for a round of high-fives.

I can now die a happy man, having felt like a true jock for one majestic trip around the bases.