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I clicked my heels twice and said there is no place like home. I heard the shower and was sure that Bobby Ewing would be in there...alive and well. I caught the winning touchdown pass in the Super Bowl from Joe Namath. Turns out it wasn't a dream after all. The Cubs did actually get swept by the Dodgers in the NLCS. Rats.

Anyway...

* I must say TheDaughter always knows how to make me smile and on Sunday afternoon she was able to do just that. Realizing that I was disappointed at having to put the 'W' flag away for the season, she looked at me and said in her sweetest voice..."Don't worry daddy. Next year we are going to fly the 'W' flag all the way to the World Series." Keep in mind this is the same five-year old who wrote a letter for a school project to Aramis Ramirez. It is times like this that I do not know whether to tell her how proud I am that she is following in my footsteps and on her way to bleeding Cubbie blue... or, as the Dying Cubs Fan might suggest, simply shake my head and tell her I'm sorry.

* I hope the Cubs continue to play "Go Cubs Go" after every win at Wrigley as I really enjoy it. I never really understood the attraction of the Eddie Vedder "Go All the Way" song though and could not understand why the majority of the Chicago media insisted on jamming it down our throats. Far from serving as an inspiration, it always sounded kinda sad to me and when I heard it on Comcast Sports Net after the series ended, I thought it was rather fitting.

* Fondly remembering a journey which included spirit fingers, broken ankles and Whitney's backstabbing, Torrence Shipman managed to smile at the conclusion of the national cheerleading championship even with her Rancho Carne Torros losing the title to the East Compton Clovers. Arrving in Knoxville only to discover that the World's Fair left years ago and that the Sunsphere had turned into the Wigsphere could not take away from the fun of the open road for Bart, Milhouse, Martin and Nelson. And turning into a human blueberry may suck but it can never take away the joy of seeing the Chocolate Room or the pure wonder of lickable wallpaper.

I mention these less-than-happy endings, because, despite the way it ended, I really hate to hear people call the '08 season a failure and fail to remember the great times that we all enjoyed. Yes, at the end of the day, the Cubs failed to reach their ultimate goal. Nobody can deny that. But, nothing, and I mean nothing, can take away the fun that was the summer of 2008. Once again, I may sound corny, but there seemed to be a magic in the air. The great comeback against the Rockies, the four-game sweep at Miller Park, Z's no-no, the Soto game, Aramis' homer off Linebrink to win the Friday afternoon game of the Crosstown Classic and the subsequent Wrigley sweep. Great times that nobody should or will be able to forget.

After all, did the Griswold's enjoy their trek across country any less simply because Wally World was closed. I mean with the dead dog, and the dead aunt, and the missing diaphragm and all. Uh, never mind.

* Despite my inherent pessimism, I do believe that the Cubs will ultimately win the World Series and I have said for years that it will happen in 2014, as such year promises to appease the baseball gods and create a perfectly symmetrical baseball bell curve. Think about it...the Red Sox won in 1918 and 2004. The White Sox won in 1917 (one year earlier) and 2005 (one year later). Given that the Cubs last won in 1908 (nine years earlier than the White Sox), it stands to reason that 2014 will be the magic year. Maybe Felix Pee-Ay will learn to hit by then. If I am right you all owe me a Coke.

* I always wondered how many yards Barry Sanders could have run for had he not suddenly realized that he played for, well, the Lions. I can not help but contemplate what type of a career Dickey Simpkins could have had if he had, well, talent. I wonder what luck lady would have ended up with John Lennon if he had realized that he was married to, well, Yoko Ono. The lesson? Life is full of what-if's. And I ask whether anyone else is curious to know what Micah Hoffpaiur can do over a full season if given regular at-bats?

* I spend most of my time shopping at places like Target and the Dollar Tree, but, after Cameron, Sloan and I were able to convince the snooty clerk at the front that I was Abe Froman, I was able to take a look around the "$136 million dollar Emprorium of Fun" (yep, it's in Kennilworth...) to see what such big bucks can get you these days. In one corner, I noticed that you could you could buy a complete set of Reed Johnsons -- 104 of them to be exact -- all-out hustle included. In another corner, you could buy approximately 113,333 leather jackets with candy-stripe linings (although the price tag was missing and the actual price per jacket was never actually told). On the wall, I saw advertisements for two different possibilities. On one hand, you could adopt 136 baby hippos. On the other, you could spend 136 nights with Diana Murphy (no truth to the rumor that Ashton Kutcher must be allowed to watch). And on a final wall, there was an ad noting that you could buy 286 northeastern Wisconsin homes, one of which was most recently owned by Brett Favre (and there is no telling what might be in the medicine cabinet there...).

Finally, your could spend your hard-earned $136 million on an overrated, streaky, terrible in the clutch, even worse in the playoffs, can't field, non-hustlin', free-swinging, wannabe lead-off hitter, who at times will make you long for the days of Rondell White. Caveat emptor.

* The truth is that I cannot believe that anyone is suprised that Sammy Sosa Soriano failed so miserably in the playoffs. After all, there is a reason that I refer to him as the second coming of Steroid Sammy. Soriano actually improved as a clutch hitter in 2008, but I still trust him in a big spot about as much as I trust Jerry Angelo to draft a competent offensive player.

* Speaking of Reed Johnson, I can't help but wonder how much the poor guy had to pay for his ticket to the games if he was even there. It is unfathomable to me that he received the same number of at-bats in the series as Bea Arthur. Why not just give his roster spot to a goat? I imagine he was in the dugout during games one or two at Wrigley for the full nine innings, but I hope he said to hell with it and did something fun while out in LA. Perhaps give a nod to Dodger Stadium tradition and leave in the sixth to head out to the "Body Shop" or Disneyland, depending on whether he carries his cash in singles or hundreds.

* I have a number of guilty pleasures, most of which will not suprise anyone -- reruns of Saved By the Bell, cheesy 80's bubble metal music (give Ratt's "Round and Round" another listen...trust me, it's better than you remember), and, yes, sports talk radio. Yet, following a series like the NLDS, I find myself having to go cold turkey for at least a couple of weeks as I simply cannot take the stupidity of the vast majority of callers.

The biggest problem involves the utter fickleness of callers. One day, Lou is a genius and the next his stupidity makes Cubs' fans long for Preston Gomez or Herman Franks. First, Ryan Theriot should have sacrificed to move a runner into scoring position and second, the only bunting that should be allowed in Wrigley is that which hangs from the upper deck. One minute, the Cubs lost because the concession stands ran out of nachos and the key to Aramis' success if a pregame meal of processed, runny cheese. The next minute, the Dodgers won because cheese makes Aramis morph into Gary Scott.

Sheesh...which is it?!? It drives me absolutely crazy. Pick a lane and stick with it. I am certainly not always right with my opinions, but at least I try and be consistent (see: Soriano, Alfonso as exhibit A). And the problem extends to the hosts who often know less than the callers, but hold themselves out as the "experts." I cannot help but laugh everytime I hear the new ESPN 1000 slogan, "You know us, we know sports," which is about as misleading as five goofy-looking lads from Toronto calling themselves Barenaked Ladies or calling the jewels of a bull Rocky Mountain Oysters and selling them to unsuspecting Coors Field patrons.

I guess I better break out my Poison, Skid Row and Warrant CDs for the next couple of weeks. I have an awfully long commute after all.

* I have heard a lot of excuses for why the Cubs were swept three years in a row, my favorite being the unfortunate and consistent presence of Dick Stocktown in the radio booth. I have to admit that listening to Dirk Stockton was incredibly frustrating. The way he described Ryan Hampster's nine walks. The way he described Mike DeRosa's and Darrin Lee's errors in the fourth inning of game three. The way he described the way Manny Rodriguez hit a Sean Marshant pitch that was literally at his shoetops into the right-center field bleachers. And, of course, the way he described the way Fukadomanski's 976th strikeout of the series. Excrutiatingly painful.

* I mean can that frickin' guy get one fact right?!? At this rate, why doesn't he just run for president (on either ticket).

* Is there any chance we can claim that Fukudome was tainted with melamine and demand a recall? After all, I hear that Mr. Sparkle is looking for a new salesman.

* Yes, I know that he is from Japan and melamime controversy stems from China. Didn't I tell you I am taking fact checking lessons from Dick Stockton these days.

* "Um yes, good morning ladies and gentlemen of the International Olympic Committee. My name is Ful Ashite and I am the spokesman for the Chinese Gynastics Federation. We have done extensive study and discovered that, while melamime in no way causes kidney stones or otherwise harms babies, it turns out that it does have one major side effect. You see, it turns out that babies that are fed tainted milk age at an amazingly slow rate. Yes, you see, it causes girls who are sixteen to look unmistakenly like they are eight. Thank you."

* "Wait a minute...I know who you are. Didn't you use to work in the Middle East? Oh yeah, it is you. You used to be the Iraqi Information Minister! Oh well, we believe you. The IOC does not have a spine anyway. Have a good day."

* Glad to see that Rich Harden was removed from game 3 as a result of his having lost command of the strike zone. I know that Larry and Lou wanted to make sure he is completely ready to go at least six frames at West Side Willy's Bowl-a-Thon on Halloween weekend and I was worried that our hopes would unreasonably rest on the shoulders of Bobby Howry and Neal Cotts.

* A well-worn cliche' is that hindsight is 20/20. Well worn...but indeniably true. And there is no doubt that life would be a heck of a lot easier if we knew what was going to happen ahead of time. The Yankees would have played their third baseman on the edge of the grass to take away the bunt, despite Jake Taylor's imitation of Babe Ruth in the '32 Series. The Brady's would have never trusted that crusty old prospector in the Arizona ghost town and believed that Jesse James carved his initals into the wall of the jail cell (although I suppose we would have been robbed of one of the greatest TV scenes in history...when Mike's big boot finally did the trick). Jerry would have never worn his brand new leather jacket to his dinner with Alton Benes.

Now I suppose that some of you were sitting there begging Lou to remove Ryan Dempster from the game before Loney's grandslam, but, I doubt that most of the sports talk callers who bemoaned Lou's deicison to leave him in actually thought it was the proper move at the time (I'm not talking to you Bearister). Given Dempster's track record of being able to get out of jams (especially with the bases loaded), I thought -- and still think -- that keeping Ryan in the game was the right move. After all, who were they going to bring in? Dave Veres?

* At the end of the day, I think the majority of the blame has to fall squarely on the offense. After all, while the Blackhawks scored 7 goals in a single preseason game, the Cubs were able to manage a grand total of six runs in the entire season. Ouch! But that does leave me to my closing comments for today and a glimmer of hope for the Chicago sports future ... "Here come the Hawks, the mightly Blackhawks..."

Jump on the bandwagon now!!

The Dream Derailed

"I've got season tickets to watch the Angels now.
And that's just what I'm gonna do.
But you, the living, you're stuck with the Cubs.
So, it's me, who feels sorry for you."

- A Dying Cubs Fan's Last Request: Steve Goodman


Unless you have been living under a rock, was a surpise contestent on Survivor, or have watched nothing but the "America's Next Top Model" network (formally known as MTV) for the past six months, you are no doubt familiar with the song "Go Cubs Go," written by noted Cubs fan and 70's folk musician Steve Goodman. Far fewer are familiar with Goodman's other "tribute" to the Chicago National League Ballclub -- quoted above -- and, after watching Sammy Sosa Soriano take a half-hearted swing at a 58-foot breaking ball to end the Cubs so-called "dream season," I could not help but immediately think of Goodman's words.

(By the way, the dying Cubs fan quoted above is referring to Janet Klinn, WrigleyBill, and John Travolta's character "Michael," not to Vladimir Guerrero, Chone Figgins and Doug DeCinces and certainly not to Jaclyn Smith, Kate Jackson and Farrah Fawcett. Just want to make sure we are all on the same page here).

What can I say? I cannot help but be very disappointed and, well, -- to be completely honest with you -- very, very sad that the season ended the way it did. It always hurts to see the Cubs season come to an end, but especially this year after six months of so much promise. You know, there are times when I am incredibly jealous of people who, at the end of the day, simply do not care and are able to go about their business without giving it a second thought. People who honestly believe that it is just a game. I, however, cannot. And I keep thinking about the words of Random Thoughts commenter "Allinonthefirsthand Tom" who noted on his FaceBook page "Tom does not know why he cares so much about something that disappoints again and again and again." Well said.

The bottom line is I don't know either. I don't know why it matters so much. I just know that it does.

I have tried to figure it out. Heck, people a hell of a lot smarter than me have tried to figure it out. The problem is you just can't. You cannot explain why someone like me feels such joy when their favorite team wins and such agony when they lose. You cannot explain why my mood often IS dependent on whether Ryan Theriot perfectly executed a hit-and-run or whether Ted Lilly couldn't locate his curveball. I don't think anyone knows why some of us are wired the way we are.

Oh sure, I've still got the Bears, Indiana Hoosiers basketball, Blackhawks and Bulls, but for at least a little while I cannot help but feel a bit empty. The Cubs, after all, are different. It sounds corny, but the Cubs truly do hold a special place in my heart. After all, thanks to my parents (my mother primarily) I think I knew who Ernie Banks was before I knew Bugs Bunny. I grew up thinking that Oscar Meyer hot dogs and Frosty Malts were what they fed you in heaven. I thought Bill Buckner was the best hitter in baseball, Rick Reuschel was a legit Cy Young candidate, and the combination of Steve Ontiveros, Larry Bittner and Manny Trillo could be the magic formula.

I can still remember going to Osco Drug with my father every April for that year's first pack of Topps Baseball Cards and I remember hoping and hoping that I would get an Ivan DeJesus. I remember the mustache and I can picture myself sitting on my bedroom floor, reading every stat on the back of the card...his .278 batting average, his 24 doubles, and his 74 walks (no doubt nursing my bleeding gums... I mean, did they have to make the gum THAT hard?!?). I remember Tim Blackwell, Lenny Randle and Mike Krukow. I remember how I felt when my mother told be that we would NOT be going to Wrigley on a June afternoon thanks to an untimely spate of thunderstorms and I certainly remember that not even Bruce Jenner and the Village People could not make it all better despite their best efforts in the truly horrific movie "Can't Stop the Music" (it turns out that going to Randhurst to see the late 70's "classic" was my mother's inspired backup plan...).

I cried when the ball went through Durham's legs, cursed Will the Thrill and, for one day, believed that Tuffy Rhodes was the next Hammerin' Hank. I heard Harry successfully spell Doug Dascenzo's name backwards and chuckled at the thought of what he would do if Dan Quisenberry ever became the Cubs' closer. I wondered why Marla Collins and her too-sizes-too-small ballgirl shorts disappeared so suddenly (I guess they did not trust an innocent 14-year old boy with the truth...).

I was actually there when Brant Brown dropped the ball and I was in the building when Steve Trachsel pitched seven no-hit innings versus the Giants in game #163. I threw an O'Henry bar and, fortunately, avoided time in Milwaukee County Stadium jail. I questioned Moises' unorthodox way of hardening his hands, considered buying a Mark Prior model #22 MRI machine, and sat in stunned silence as D Lee put the Marlins ahead in the top of the 8th.

In other words, I live with this stuff every day and I have for the past 34 years (I trust that I was not consciously listening to Jack Brickhouse when I was two, although with my mother, I cannot say for sure).

We all know that it has been 100 years, but sometimes you have to step back and really think about it to realize how amazing (painful?) it is. 1908. One hundred years. You could not take off for a weekend getaway in the Keys in 1908. Heck, at that time, the Wright Brothers were only first considering how to turn a $10 airline ticket into a $350 total bill. In 1908, there were not people driving Hummers decked out with multiple video game systems and plasma televisions. 1908, in fact, was actually the first year of production for the The Model T. Arizona Diamonbacks and Alburquerque Isotopes? Heck, Arizona and New Mexico were not even states for gosh sakes.

Look, I am not going to insult anyone by saying "Wait Til' Next Year" and I will not even hazard a guess regarding whether 2009 will finally actually be the year. I suspect that the Cubs will have another excellent team next summer, but, the truth is that nobody really knows. Lilly could come down with a case of Prior-itis. Big Z could throw out his back trying to break Mike Fontenot over his knee. Einstein Jones could come back and kill us all. One just never knows.

But I do know that after the tears dry in a couple of weeks, I'll put my Cubs cap back on and try and figure out the riddle that is middle relief. And you can bet that I will be there come next April, watching every pitch and hoping against hope that 101 years is long enough. And although I appreciate the Dying Cubs Fan's sympathy and I may be both sad and disappointed, I remain forever proud to be a Cubs fan. It is, after all, who I am. And who I will always be.



***More on the Cubs and the end of the season coming later this week. Be sure to check back! Thanks!!

Keeping the Dream Alive

Calling me a pessimist is a bit like calling Random Thoughts Hottie #1 attractive. It is a bit like calling Kelvin Sampson a cheater. It is a bit like calling Nancy Pelosi a bitch (regardless of your politcal leanings...). We do, after all, hold these truths to be self-evident.

That said, I don't imagine many of you thought you would read the following words on this blog after the last two nights during which you could have sworn that the Cubs had returned to the days of Ricky Gutierrez, Eric Young and Willie Greene...

THE SEASON IS NOT OVER.

You see, I checked the MLB postseason rule book and it turns out that a team needs THREE victories to win a division series. THREE. I also checked espn.com this morning and it turns out that the Dodgers have only won TWO GAMES (and was absolutely shocked that I did not have to pay to be an "Insider" to gain such information. Who knew?).

So the Cubs lost the first two games of the series...at home. What can I say? It sucks. Does it suck worse than dropping the spirit stick at cheer camp? Yes. Does it suck worse than having to watch Kelly Kapowski date that slimeball manager of The Max? Yes. Does it suck worse that getting caught in the kitchen doing unmentionable things to a pie by your father? Well, no, I do not imagine that it sucks quite that bad. But it does still suck pretty bad.

But the simply truth is that the series is not over. It is going to take a herculean effort no doubt, but I beg everyone to please keep believin' (insert Journey lyrics here). I have to say that I was disgusted leaving Wrigley last night. Disgusted with Cubs' "fans." Shouting obscenities. Booing. Can you imagine what they would have done if Bob Howry had come into pitch. Somebody please call an ambulance.

And if you are one of those people who this morning is walking with your head down, relying all-too-soon on that well-worn mantra "wait til' next year," I take you back to 1984 and I ask you... after getting crushed in the first two games of the NLCS by the North Side, did the San Diego Padres simply fold up their tents? Did they think the series was over? Hell no.

Did Tony Gwynn think it was over? Hell no. He just bellied right back up to the buffet, had an ninth serving of pudding, put on his uniform and rapped out hits for three staight nights. (By the way, is anyone else wondering if he is planning on auditioning for a lead role in a remake of Jake and the Fatman?).

Did Eric Show think it was over? Hell no. He shrugged his shoulders, invited Alan Wiggins and Steve Howe over, picked up his crack pipe, and went about his business.

Did Steve Garvey think it was over? Hell no. He just raised that hairy size XXXXXL forearm of his, smiled his biggest smile, and said "first I am going to tear the hearts out of Cubs' fans everwhere by hitting a 1oth inning home run off Lee Smith and then I going to celebrate by sleeping with Terry Kennedy's wife...and Kevin McReynolds' wife... and Graig Nettles' wife... and, well pretty much all of southern California."

And for those of you who were too busy watching Tron to pay attention to the '84 Cubs (in other words, for those of you who were not insane enough to build a shrine to Bobby D, Ryno, Sarge, the Penguin, and others -- man, it was the coolest thing...it had all my baseball cards, hats, pennants...I should have taken a picture), I ask you to think back to 2003. Did the Florida Marlins think it was over after falling behind 3-1 in the series? Once again, hell no. Jack McKeon simply told Sophia Petrillo that she was going to have to find someone else to take her to the Shady Acres' senior dance on Thursday night because he was going to be busy managing his Marlins in Game Seven. Ugueth Urbina simply told his Venezuelan farm worker friends that they could breathe easy for another week or so, but to be sure to have plenty of gasoline and a large machete on hand when he does return. Josh Beckett simply...man, I frickin' hate Josh Beckett!

By the way, Greg Oden ended up taking Sophia to the dance. But, please do not feel to badly for Jose Contreras who spent the majority of the night drinking mojitos in Little Havana after being rejected by Sophia. It turns out that Blanche showed up at the bar shortly after one o'clock and, well, you know the rest. But I digress.

Anyway, want to know whether this is over? Ask Rich Harden, who was on the wrong end of a 3-2 series loss to the Red Sox in 2003... a series that Harden's A's led 2-0.

The Cubs have now lost eight playoff games in a row! Eight. Well, call Dick Van Patten. Give Willie Aames and Grant Goodeve seats next to Lou in the Cubs dugout. Break Adam Rich out of prison because eight is enough!

All summer everyone ran around saying this is our year. Well, this is still our gosh-darned year! We lived through the Karchner years! We suffered through Rey Sanchez! We cleansed the team of Felix Heredia and Jaime Navarro and Einstein Jones and Stephen Hawking Hairston and Dumb as Shit Gopherball Glendon and Thing One and Thing Two and all the other crap. Dave Wannstedt just called. And you're gosh darned right, Dave. All the frickin' pieces are in place!!!!

So, I implore the team to keep their heads up, go out to the left coach, and get the job done. Wear the Cubbie Blue with pride. Wear it with honor. Wear it with confidence. (Except you, Fukodome, you can leave your uniform at home...).

So is this over? I call on the wisdom of one Senator Bluto Blutarsky to sum up (creative license entirely mine)...

"Over? Did you say over? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no! And it ain't over now! 'Cause when the going gets tough…the tough get going! Who's with me? Let's go!…"

"What the fuck happened to the Cubs I used to know? Where's the spirit? Where's the guts? Huh? This could be the greatest comeback of our lives, but you're going to let it be the worst. 'Oh, we're afraid to go with you. We might lose.' Well, just kiss my ass from now on! Not me! I'm not gonna take this! Torre? He's a dead man. Juan Pierre? Dead! MANNY? DEEEEEAAAAAADDDDD"

I, for one, have no choice but to still believe...

Go CUBS!!!

Trade Winds a Blowin'

With the Major League Baseball trade deadline a few hours away, a few thoughts are floating around my head...

* Good news for those of you planning on stopping by the McDonald's at 171st and Harlem this evening for dinner. It appears as though the Golden Arches will not be short staffed now that Ken Griffey Jr. is a White Sox (Sock?) and Carl Everett can man the chicken nugget machine as scheduled.

* Defense lawyers all over the Chicagoland area are disappointed. Apparently, Tony Phillips will also not be headed to the South Side.

* But, not as disappointed as the "Chicagoland Alomars Club." Every July 31, Pablo looks forward to tripling his membership with the arrival of Roberto and Sandy. Alas, it looks as though Sandy will remain the Mets' catching instructor and Roberto will stay in San Juan. At least, this way he will not have to cancel his annual "Where to Aim on an Umpire" seminar. I hear Rose from "Titanic" was going to be the special guest speaker now that she has Jack's technique down pat.

* I was quite surprised by the Sox trade for Griffey. After all, where is he going to play? Putting him in center is like asking Michael Clarke Duncan to star as a Munchkin in a remake of The Wizard of Oz. Sure, he may have been a fit ten years ago, but, it is likely no longer such a good idea now that it is 2008, Clark is 7'8, 460 lbs and Griffey runs like Paul Konerko.

* Speaking of Konerko... Well, let's just let one of the RT's most hated handle what is going on with Paulie. Hawk if you would be so kind. "He gone...

* ...to the bench."

* I would hate to see the Cubs make a move just for the sake of making a move. If they are going to do something, I can only hope that it is truly an upgrade. After all, who remembers Matt Karchner?

* For those of you who have understandably put Karchner out of your minds and promised that you would never think about him again....remember David Weathers?

* Karchner... Weathers... Felix Heredia... Shane Matthews... Dickey Simpkins,...walking out of "Ernest Saves Christmas" with tears in your eyes, muttering "That movie is so touching"... Dancing in your underwear to Culture Club's "Karma Chameleon." Great, now I have brought back all of your repressed memories. Say hello to Dr. Melfi for me.

* I just do not want the Cubs to imitate the fine folks from the Coors Brewing Company. In other words, please, no window dressing. Let's not do something just because it sounds good. Take, Coors' 4,863 recent packaging "innovations" as a example. Okay, I will give you the blue mountains. Stupid? Yes, but the concept, I suppose, is reasonable. But, the vented can? Excuse me? Does anyone out there really have that many issues with the way the beer pours when they are drinking a Miller Lite or a Bug Light or even a Hamms? Please. That has to be the worst marketing pitch since Spuds McKenzie.

* Raul Ibanez...now that's an idea.

* Finally, yes, it was I who stated my belief that the Brewers would win the division and the Cubs would battle it out with the Phillies and Mets for the Wild Card and I am not going to change my opinion. Nobody is happier than I am with the North Sider's performance in Milwaukee this week and nobody wants to be wrong more that I do, but I still believe the Brewers will come out on top in the NL Central. I very well may end up being wrong (and I certainly hope I am), but I made a prediction and I must stand by it. John Kerry I am not.

* Besides, like Smooth Jimmy Apollo said when he incorrectly predicted that that Denver would beat New England on The Simpsons, "When you are right 52% of the time, you are wrong 48%." I like to think I am a little better than that.

Does He Wear Huggies or Pampers?

Five innings...ten strikeouts...two hits....and only one run.

Oh yeah, I forgot the most important stat...87 pitches.

What? Was it nappy time? Was it time for Larry Roth-s-child to give him his bottle?

Harden has electric stuff, but if the Cubs are going to baby him THAT much, I say, no thanks.

Wait Until You See What Happens in 2014!

[Warning: This post may make your head hurt and you very well may accuse me of being Dennis Miller. But, if you fashion yourself a Cubs fan, please read on...]

It could not have been more than five minutes after Reed Johnson's grand slam last night, that I headed down to the Wagner family basement to dig the 'W' flag out of its storage place where I was worried it would remain for the duration of the season. I picked my way past piles of tangled Christmas lights, sidestepped mountains of compact discs (tell me again why I felt the need to buy Young MC's Greatest Hits... sure "Bust a Move" had everyone... well... busting a move in 1989, but to claim that he had greatest hits is the biggest farce since the release of The Neverending Story in the mid-80's...that frickin' film was a lousy 94 minutes long!), and I wondered why I still have not tried to unload the Olmec Indian head statute of X'tapolapocetl that Mr. Burns gave us in appreciation of the time "theson" donated blood to save the old man's life (yes, there are times I live in a fantasy world. Many times). I had just knocked over a pile of my old Hit Parader magazines when I saw a mysterious box. A box I had to investigate.

(By the way, why did Reed shave the mustache and long sideburns? For a minute there, I thought Dick Tidrow was back in the Cubs clubhouse!)

Neatly stacked inside the mysterious box were three well-worn books, dusty from years of inattention. My heart raced as I realized that I had at long last found the lost books of Danstradamus. I had succeeded where Geraldo Rivera and others had failed. And, best of all, all three were there... the Book of Broglio, the Book of Prior, and, yes, the book of Paul Kilgus. Page after page of short "Cubtrains" foretelling the future of the "Ursidae Infante de Chi-cago." Written by this author as a wee three week old (okay so they were actually transcibed...the old indian lady did the actual writing), the lost Cubtrains were specifically intended to help future generations prepare for the inevitable heartbreak that would follow. I had to see what tales of woe they foldtold.

First, I opened to Cubtrain #69. I read...

"Thy feline dark as night shall stroll
past the corner guard who shall never be let in
While the terrific one hurls spheres of fire
to uplift amazing nine past Ursidae Infante."

(Yes, I know I was not born in '69 people...it's called suspended belief).

I turned next to Cubtrain #84...

"The father of many, perhaps all, displays mighty clout
A triad of disappointments shall depress
The bull shall falter
and the Friars of the West ascend"

A tear formed in the corner of my eye as I recalled the shrine I had built as a twelve year old --a shrine to Ryno, the Penguin, Bobby D and Sarge -- meticulously constructed the night before Game 5 at Jack Murphy Stadium. I opened the next book, turned to Cubtrain #89 and read on...

"Mammoth warriors of the bay
advance with the thrill of .650.
While the man of grace will deliver
thy hawk's mighty wings clipped"

I bravely moved on. Thinking it apropos that Cubtrain '98 was nowhere to be found -- as if it had never even happened, I moved on to perhaps the most painful of all...Cubtrain #03...

"Five to count, the sphere shall soar.
Scent of loo pungent, thy son of Felipe tracks
Audition impaired, the bespectacled extends
Thy street flows with the tears of the believers"

Number '07 was not far behind...

"Snakes slither never to be caught in a web
A flower tosses petal with great ire
A hill the asp climbs
and on green the reptiles congregate"

Finally, I came to #08. Not sure if I could handle what it would foretell, I sat quietly and thought for a moment. I thought about all the memorable times. The Sandberg game. Kid K's 20 strikeouts. Watching Giant Joe Carter pop up for the final out of the '98 regular season and the celebration that ensued. I thought about seeing Carmelo Martinez's first big league hit, a soaring drive that nestled itself safely in the left-field basket. I thought about Wild Thing and Shooter...Big Lee and, yes, even Rick Aguilera. Mike Bielecki and Kevin Tapani. One Dog and Shawon. Hot dogs. Frosty malts. Marla Collins chasing after foul balls in shorts that would make Daisy Duke proud.

Finally, I took a deep breath and looked at the browning page. Each word seemed to float before me. I read...

"Miles north, the prince and man of great brawn
shall brew a sea of great joys
Whileist the ram, the rose, and the perpetually injured former starter turned closer (whoa!)
shall see a century extended."

Uh oh.

* Okay, let's get one thing straight right off the bat (get it...off the bat...I kill me), I recognize that I am not a genius. But, I do want to point out that I have been telling anyone and everyone who would listen that the Brewers will win the NL Central title since April (just think for a second what "thewife" has to go through. While you all have the option to read the Random Thoughts at your leisure, the poor thing is forced to listen to my ramblings on a daily basis!). And, as much as I hate to say it, I am now more convinced than ever that Milwaukee will fly right past the Cubs and never look back.

I know that many of you will label me a hopeless pessimst in the mold of George Costanza and Luke Skywalker when Yoda first told him to get the X-Wing out of the Dagobah swamp and I suppose it is a fair accusation. That said, I believe it is difficult for any Cubs fan to argue with many of my reasons why the Cubs will not win the division. While I outlined many of my concerns in the "Welcome Back" blog last week, the list does not end there. Let's take a look at the current state of the North Side...

* Kerry Wood is still not pitching and nobody truthfully knows when he will be back. Is it really a blister? A shoulder? An elbow? Markprioritis? Anyone else wonder why the Cubs brass' has asked one of the team's interns to visit this weekend's Kohl's "Greatest-Sale!-This-Week-Only!-Get-Here-First-Thing-Saturday-Morning-Or-You-Will-Lose-Your-Chance!-That-Is-Until-Next-week-When-We-Will-Have-The-Exact-Same-Sale-And-The-Weekend-After-That-And-The-Weekend-After-That...Sale" with instructions to clean the bed and bath section out of towels? Anyone thinking of buying stock in terry cloth?

* I'm not worried about Aramis' dry spell which, prior to Wednesday night, was beginning to reach Andy Stitzer proportions. Yes, he has seen his average fall from .303 to .269 since June 25. He has a history of success though and I am confident that he will be tearing the cover off the ball before long.

I do remain concerned, however, about Kosuke and Geovany Soto. We've been over the fact that Fukudome is more likely to turn into Hee Seop Choi than he is Ichiro, but Soto has received nary a mention last week. I really like Geo and think he has tremendous potential, but he has never caught for a full season on the major league level and he is already up to 94 games played.(including last night). Lou is likely better off giving Henry Blanco a few more starts even if it means taking Geo's big bat out of the lineup.

And, just for the record, I doubt that Kosuke will turn into either Choi or Suzuki. Ultimately, he is probably headed for a career similar to that of Chairman Kaga, the builder and proprietor of "Kitchen Stadium"... he'll offer a few thrills every once in a while and will engender an occasion smile, but, ultimately, he will disappear from the landscape and certainly will not make anyone forget Billy Williams.

* The Cubs' depth is not quite the strength it used to be. Example 'A' is Ronny Cedeno. Check this stat out... I know he does not play much, but Cedeno, who had 18 RBI on May 6, now has a grand total of 20. That's two RBI in the last 11 weeks for those of you who are mathmatically challenged. "Two RBI?!? That's all he has is two g*d damn RBI?!?" Yes, Harry Doyle, he has the same number of RBI as Ted Lilly.

* Jason Marquis has not been terrible this year, but he is absolutely infuriating. I mean, that guy makes me angrier than Borat after he found Azamet with his Baywatch magazine. A perfect example was Tuesday night. The Cubs finally got a clutch hit from Mike Fontenot to cut the D-Backs' lead to 2-1, yet Marquis gave the run right back in the next half inning. And the way he did it is typical. Hit the 8th place hitter (yes, I know he was Alex Hank Aaron Romero, but even Augie Ojeda has six career dingers), allowed the pitcher to lay down a perfect bunt, and then give up a two out hit to Stephen Drew. Don't plunk a guy with 68 career at-bats and the likelihood Arizona scores is exponentially decreased.

* The bullpen is mediocre at best. Like Stone Temple Pilots' singer Scott Weiland and John Wayne Bobbitt, Bobby Howry is half the man he used to be. Kevin Hart? Ugh. Michael Wuertz? He's Kevin Hart's long lost twin and they are both apparently closely related to Todd Van Poppel. And, who knows what you are going to get from Carlos Marmol the rest of the way, although I personally believe that his All-Star game appearance will act as a springboard for the rest of the year. At least, with Wood on the shelf with MikeBrownicondria, we better hope so.

* A number of things that happened in the last couple of days really surprised me. For example, Roger Federer lost in the opening round of the Rogers Cup. The Shock and the Sparks of the WGNL (that's the "We Got Next League") got into a real bench clearing brawl. The guy who makes Matzah and macaroons for Passover will take over for Roger Ebert on "At the Movies" (oh, that's Mankiewicz...). But nothing surprised me more than Derrek Lee's first inning home run in Wednesday night's game.

Last week I wrote about how people in Chicago seem to be talking more about what Juan Uribe ate for dinner last night than about Lee's lack of power and so I did a little research that may be of interest. It is almost impossible to believe, but, even with his round tripper last night, Derrek has now hit three home runs in his last 182 at-bats, while, as the same time grounding into 11 double plays (bringing his season total to a career high 21) (the double play number, by the way, is in 144 "attempts" for a ratio 1/15). For comparisons sake, Mighty Mike Fontenot, who sometimes looks like he would be asked to stand next to the Yosemite Sam "You Must Be This Tall To Ride This Ride" sign before being allowed on the Demon roller coaster at Great America, has six home runs in his last 59 at-bats. At the same time, Mike has hit into only one double play (57 "attempts;" ratio of 1/57 ). I ask a question that may seem silly at first, who would you rather have up in a clutch situation?

* Uribe, by the way, ate four whole fried chickens and a coke.

* and a large pepperoni pizza and a chocolate cake and a six pans of baked beans and a tub of play-doh and Boone Logan's third toe...

* While I have spent an awful lot of time bashing the Cubs, my belief that the North Siders will not win the division has as much to do with the Brewers and the fact that they are chock-full of talent. Braun, Fielder, J.J. Hardy (does he still have his periods?), and Corey Hart can all whack the ball all over the park. Further, Sabathia and Sheets are the best duo in Milwaukee since Lenny and Squiggy. Put it all together, and the Brewers have not had a combination of offense and defense quite like this since the days of Paul Molitor, Robin Yount, Moose Haas and Pete Vukovich (Moose Haas and Peter Vukovich? Tell me again, how in the world the Brewers won the AL with that as their top-two starters?)

And, with regards to the pitching staff, it is not just about Sheets and Sabathia. Manny Parra (9-2, 3.68 ERA) is one of the most underrated pitchers in the National League. Would I put Zambrano, Harden and Dempster up against the Brewers' big three? Yes. But the Brewers talent cannot be denied.

* That brings us to the teams' remaining schedules. Now, if you do not realize that the Cubs have as many problems on the road as the protaganist and his son in Cormac McCarthy's Pulitzer Prize winning novel, please stop wasting all your time trying to get into the Charles M. Schultz School of Art by perfecting your drawing of the turtle and start paying attention! I mention this because the Cubs play 16 of their last 22 games of the season on the road, including four games in New York and the final three with Laverne and Shirley in attendance at Miller Park. And, while the Brewers do play 10 of their last 16 away from home, a broader look shows that the number becomes 1o of 26! This includes a four-pack with the pathetic San Diego Padres, who may be starting Eric Show by then, three with Cincy and three with Pittsburgh.

The Brewers do have to go to Philadelphia for four games in September, while the Cubs get the Phillies in the friendly confines (and, no matter how much he begs, Michael Jack Schmidt, will not be allowed in the stadium), while the opposite of true of the Mets (Cubs: road; Brewers: home). Both teams go to Atlanta, host Washington (hooray!), and play a number of games against the dregs of the division (Note: Milwaukee does have a lot more games against the Pirates). The biggest difference involves the Cubs playing the Marlins seven time, while the Brew Crew gets to toy with the aforementioned Padres for an setptet of games. Somebody please tell Tony Gwynn to back away from the buffett and pick up a bat. And, while you are at it, does anyone know where Kevin Brown is at and whether his right arm is still attached to his body?

* You will notice that I did not make mention of the Cardinals. The truth is that I am not concerned about the redbirds. Give Tony LaRussa and Dave Duncan a lot of credit...they have done an amazing job with a team that has limited talent, but, ultimately, there is simply not enough there to hold on to the end in my opinion. And, yes, I am aware that both Adam Wainwright and Chris Carpenter are on the mend. Won't matter in the end.

* Bottom Line: Look, I hate to be pessimistic. I really do. But, the truth is the the red flags are everywhere. Now, I am not suggesting that Cubs fans panic. For example, I do not recommend running into the street and burning all of your Ivan DeJesus and Manny Trillo baseball cards. Further, please do not sacrifice any goats, build altars to Ronnie Woo Woo, or permanently move into the beer cooler at Murphy's. In fact, despite all I have written, I would not be surprised if the Cubs are playing post-season baseball. But, I would pay closest attention to the Mets, Phillies, and Marlins down the stretch as it says here that the runners-up in the National League East will be the Cubs' main competition for wildcard berth.

***Okay. First and foremost, thanks for making it all the way through this post. More importantly, if you call yourself a Cubs fan, it is time to prove it!!! Yes, I recognize that you are aware that Frank Castillo led the team in ERA in 1995, that Vance Law hit .293 in 1988 and that Joe Altobelli lost his only game as the Cubs manager in 1991 (at least now you are), but can you figure out all the references in the aforementioned Cubtrains? Give it a shot and post a comment! And feel free to write some of your own.

Bear Down...

In celebration of Zacrey Atterberry and Zackary Bowman's arrival at training camp (nothing beats being able to trade in your $5.65 an hour paycheck at White Castle for a chance to carry Roberto Garza's jock strap for two weeks before being asked to bring your playbook to Lovie's office, huh, Zackary?), today's post will be dedicated to the Bears. That means there will be no questioning who the hell Alex Romero is anyway and why he felt the need to make me cry... we will not talk about how Wendell Kim is now coaching third base for the White Sox and apparently goes by the name of Jeff Cox... and we absolutely will make no mention of Ian Poulter's pink pants at the British Open. So, with a tip of the cap to Random Thoughts Ring of Honor inductee "Bearister," today is all about the Monsters of the Midway.

* Well looky here, Rex the Wonder Dog is back for another season of pinpoint passes, 25-yard scrambles, and media-savvy postgame interviews. You know, it remains an absolute shame that the Bears could not find a way to beat Peyton Manning and those pesky Colts in Super Bowl XLI given the fact that Rex truly deserved a better fate with the way he carried the team all season. It says here that Rex will finally take his rightful place in the upper echelon of NFL quarterbacks. Break out the bulldozers folks... it's time to start constructing the "Wonder Dog Wing" in Canton.

Wait...you mean, this isn't http://www.iowerexgrossmanmoney.com/ or http://www.rexsavedmefromapackoframpagingwildebeest.com/? Oh well, never mind.

In all seriousness, can somebody please explain to me the thinking regarding bringing Rex back for another season of abject crapiness? Have sales slowed in Chicago area liquor stores that much? Look, I am not going to stand here and boast that I have been adamant from the very beginning that Rex would do absolutely nothing to make anyone forget Jim McMahon (it's the Bears folks ---it's the best I could do...), but, as it turns out, Rex has not even done anything to make anyone forget Bob Avellini or Vince Evans (hey, to his credit, he has done enough to make us all forget Henry Burris). He sucks...it is really that simple.

It is a strange phenomenon, but for some reason certain people seem to have trouble letting go of things that are downright bad for them. Mr. Mom, for example, had a heck of a time trying to get Kenny to give up his Woobie... Maggie Simpson is freakishly attached to her pacifier... the Freelings wouldn't leave their house even after Carol Anne was sucked into the TV and the house told them it was haunted. I do not know whether it is Angelo, Lovie, Ron Turner or old lady McCaskey who is to blame and has an unhealthy affinity for short, lame-duck throwing former-Gator signal callers, but somebody please make Rex go away.

* All I can say is...go get em' Kyle. And if, even in spite of his ineptitude, it looks like the Wonder Dog is going to be behind center on opening night at Lucas Oil Stadium, go find Jeff Gillooly and see if you can borrow his crowbar.

*I guess you have to question whether it really matters who the Bears' QB is when the team's receiving corps consists of Marty Booker, Brandon Lloyd, Mark Bradley, Rashied Davis and the aforementioned Zackary Bowman (don't get excited...he ain't gonna make the team.. although, if he did, he wold instantly be the greatest Zackary in the history of the NFL). Let that group really sink in and then wonder why Wendell Davis or Brian Baschnagel was not offered a contract. Heck, I'd think about asking Nick Nolte's character in North Dallas Forty to pop a few painkillers and strap on the pads.

I mean...Marty Booker? Did I accompany Dr. Emmett Brown in the DeLoren? What year is it anyway? 2000? Is Britney Spears still hot? Are people still listening to this Sony Walkmen? Why didn't the team bring back D'Wayne Bates and pick Alonzo Mayes out of the gutter?

It's not all bad, I suppose, as I actually think that Lloyd is going to have a better season than most expect, love Greg Olsen's potential as a tight end, and would like to see a guy like Mike Hass get a chance (see Waddle, Tom). But, to summarize...the Bears wide receivers? Umm...not a team strength.

* Well, hello there Mr. Benson. Welcome to the crappy ex-Chicago Bears Running Backs Club. This room here is known as the bust room. Say hello to Curtis Enis. He is the guy sitting right over there in the orange jump suit. And that fellow there...the one behind all the smoke, wearing the Toronto Argonauts Ricky Williams jersey and listening to Bob Marley... that's Rashaan Salaam. Please do not mind the corpse in the corner...Mrs. Hayward has been delayed in picking up Iron Head's remains for some time now. No, no you can't sit there. That seat is reserved for Kevin Jones. Don't you see the knee brace? Oh, and that guy there, that's Gary Scott. Wait a minute, how did you get out of the crappy ex-Cubs Third Baseman's Club? I specifically told Kevin Orie to keep an eye on you.

* Speaking of busts, why is it that everytime I hear a siren, I immediately think "Huh, I didn't know David Terrell was back in Chicago."

* And why do I always see Ricky Manning Jr. running the other way?

* In all seriousnes, you kind of have to feel bad for Benson. The poor guy was so close to completing the John Daly Memorial World Tour and now he does not get to go to Bourbon-nais. I mean, he had already made it to Margaritaville, Beer-ington, Rum-ington Heights and Zima-land. Damn cops and their blasted sobriety tests!

* Looks like it is going to be up to Thomas Jones to carry the load. Wait a minute, what did we get for him again? A bag of Doritos and an autographed photo of Freeman McNeil? Please at least tell me they were Cool Ranch.

* I doubt the offensive line is going to be a strength either, although there certainly may be some promise. Few in Chicago know much about first round draft pick Chris Williams of Vanderbilt, so let me introduce him to you all...

He is the only man to ace a "draw this turtle" art test. Everytime he goes swimming, Cedric Benson's boat appears. Aliens have asked him to take them to Eric Cartman's house. His organ donation card lists his toe nails. He is a fighter and not a lover, ut if you look like Kathering Heigl, he's going for it, so look out. His legend preceeds him like Jack Haley used to precede Dennis Rodman. He doesn't always drink beer, but when he does, he prefers Busch Light Draft.

Too bad many scouts say he can't run block. Stay skeptical my friends.

* At least Olin Kreutz returns. of course, with both Rex and Olin back in the fold, we better set the over/ under on the number of dropped snaps at 12.

That's 12 per half.

* Good to see Mike Brown back in the orange and blue as well. Hey kids! Let's play "What's Mikey's next injury going to be?" And your choices are...

A. Pulled hamstring while tackling Kevin Jones in practice (who will likewise be injured on the play)

B. Broken nose after running into a wall after mistaking Garrett Wolfe for a smurf

C. Migraine headaches after spending 17-straight endless nights trying to teach Devin Hester a basic slant route

D. Sprained wrist from trying to prove to Chris Williams that he too can ace the "draw the turtle" art test

E. _________________ (Your turn! How do you think Brownie will get injured?)

* One of the biggest questions facing the defense is what version of Mark Anderson and Charles Tillman they are going to get. With regards to Anderson, are they going to get the fifth-round steal that terrorized quarterbacks as a rookie or the guy who looked all too much like Alonzo Spellman (without the handcuffs or ankle bracelet that is) during his sophomore campaign? Like every team, the Bears need to get pressure from off the edge and Anderson can be the guy.

A similar question applies to Tillman who has gone from being a future star to being an absolute disaster to being a solid NFL corner. Will the Bears get the guy who treated Randy Moss like his b*tch in a 2003 game at Soldier Field or the guy who was victimized by Steve Smith for 218 yards in the 2006 playoffs? If you believe in signs and you are an optimist (read: Bearister), you point to the fact that Brandon Lloyd voluntarily chose to sign with the Bears, when he likely could have signed with Minnesota or Detroit and gotten to face Peanut twice in the same season (don't even bring up Nathan Vasher...he will probably be shelved with a shoulder or an ankle or a bruised testicle). Of course, if you are a pessimist (read: me), well, you are probably going to just spend the winter counting the days until the Cubs' 101st season since their last World Series championship (Alex Romero?!?).

* Glad to see Tommie Harris healthy. I really like Tommie and trust that his realtive ineffeciveness last season is due to te fact that he was only playing at about 60%. Harris is a difference maker in the middle of the defensive front and can keep blockers off Urlacher and Briggs. Of course, Lance and Brian come with their own issues. After acting like Rod Tidwell when poor Jerry was trying desperately to keep at least one client from Bob Sugar's clutches, let's just hope that the two All-Pro linebackers are not too busy counting their money and are focused on making sure Adrian Peterson does not go for 300 against the Bears' D. Show me the money? Show me the tackles...

* And, finally, we come to the coaches: Lovie, Ron Turner and Bob Babich. Ron Turner we already know about. If you like vanilla ice cream, you probably love the Bears' offensive coordinator. He has about as much outward imagination as Adrian after prematurely giving birth to Rocky's son. At least, we think we know what Ron is all about and capable of. I suppose we do have to take into consideration the fact that he is hampered with the Wonder Dog at QB, John St. Clair (what in the heck is John St. Clair still doing in the NFL?) on the O-Line and a miserable sack of crap at the majority of the skill positions (my apologies to Greg Olsen). I guess when Mrs. Turner defends her husband by asking what Rembrandt's works would have looked like if he had only been able to use one color of paint, what the Beatles' music would have sounded like if they would have only been able to use the sitar, or how fondly people would really remember the movie When Harry Met Sally were it not for the Meg Ryan orgasm scene and you really can't do anything but shrug your shoulders and admit that she has a point.

I think we also know about Lovie. He is African American. He from a place called Big Sandy. He likes the Cover Two defensive scheme like Cookie Monster likes cookies (I'll tell you what...Lovie, you try a man-press blitz and Cookie Monster you try a Kit Kat Bar. Now, isn't that nice?). He says that Rex is his quarterback. Ahhh...I knew there was some reason I did not like him. Quick, someone go to Florida and bring back Ditka, just, please remind him to leave Doug Flutie at the midget circus.

The biggest question mark is Bob Babich. You sort of half to feel bad for Bob given all the injuries he had to contend with during his first season on the job. The truth is that we really do not know much about him other than he apparently also used to live in CoverTwoVille with his best buddy Lovie. The bottom line is that, while I am generally willing to give Babich and the defense the benefit of the doubt, something tells me that Ron Rivera is basking in the San Diego sun, sharing a cocktail with Ron Burgandy, and laughing at how far the Bears have fallen since the 2007 Super Bowl. Babich, after all, has to worry about Harris' knee; Vasher's groin; Dvoracek's ACL; Brown's foot, ankle, knee, thigh, shoulder, arm, hand, neck, back, pancreas, and ovaries; Anderson's sophomore suckiness; Alex Brown's career suckiness, Ricky Manning Jr.'s bail; where Hunter Hillenmeyer misplaced his hair gel; Danieal Manning's superfluous 'A',; and Paris Hilton's possible pregnancy and the effect it may have on his middle linebacker.

Ron Rivera just has to worry about making sure Shawne Merriman's nandrolone shipment arrives safe and sound every week. Ain' t life grand?

* Bottom line: It will come as no surprise to hear that I think it is going to be a long season for the Bears. I hate to say it, but, as things stand right now, I think we are looking at a 6-10 season and that may be being generous. Prove me wrong Rex...prove me wrong...

*** Once again, I do plan on posting as much as possible, so, if you enjoy what you read, please be sure to check back often. I would rather not fill your mailboxes with annoying e-mails.

This Isn't Gonna Hurt a Bit...

FYI...

Good news for the Cubs...if the scheduled pitching rotation this weekend holds, they'll miss both Haren and Webb while playing the D-Backs in Phoenix which is a little like going for an annual checkup and getting to skip both the blood work and the prostate exam.

Let's hope they get to come home to Chicago with a clean bill of health and a nice red lolipop.

There's Gotta Be Some Reason...

Well, I'm writing, but nobody seems to be reading.

Damn gas prices.

This Time It Counts...Just Like Last Time

After listening to sports radio for the past couple of days (by the way, is anyone else finally about to break down and actually make the trip to Northwest Indiana to check out John Chico's wide selection of dashing menswear?) , I cannot help but wonder whether I am the last person on earth who actually enjoys the Major League Baseball All-Star Game. Now, don't get me wrong, it certainly does not rate as one of my favorite sporting events of the year, but I still look forward to it and make it a point to watch the game on an annual basis. I mean, who can forget Fred Lynn hitting a grand slam off Atlee Hammaker in a 13-3 AL victory at Disco Demolition Park in 1983? To put it another way, yes, I too would rather watch Yang and Lau versus Urlacher and Big Papi in a tough-as-nails badminton match, but, you've got to admit that watching Colorado Rockies hurler Aaron Cook try and get out of a bases loaded jam in a tie game in the 10th innning sure beats watching Joey Chestnut and Kobayashi stuff hot dogs down their piehole for ten minutes.

(Just for the record, Lard Ass would beat them both...)

There is no doubt that everyone's chief complaint revolves around the fact that the All Star Game is now used to determine home field advantage in the World Series. I, personally, do not have a problem with it. In fact, I kind of like it. What I have a problem with is the way the players are chosen and the way the game is managed. First, it is crucial to ensure that the BEST players are represented and, if this means taking the power away from the fans, so be it. Example #1 is Kosuke. Despite the warning regarding the limited shelf life of imports that appeared in Mondays' Random Thoughts (think Yahoo Serious), I like Kosuke. I really do. But, let's be honest here... he belongs in the All-Star Game like Cop Rock belongs on the list of the top television shows of all time. But, what can I say? Give 127 people a chance to stop trimming their Bonsai trees and put down their Poke'mon cards for long enough to log on to mlb.com and even George Steinbrenner's favorite Fat Toad, Hideki Irabu, probably would have had his moment in the all-star sun.

To problem does not just lie with the fans, however. The players and managers are also to blame. Jason Varitek is an all-star? You mean the same Jason Varitek who is hitting .218 with an on-base percentage that is lower than the aforementioned Irabu's weight. Varitek may be considered a terrific teammate and a clutch player, but the list of catchers that deserve to be in the Bronx more than Varitek simply starts with A.J. Pierzynski, Ivan Rodriguez, Gerald Laird, and Jake Taylor. Heck, why not Brook Fordyce or Ron Karkovice?

The bottom line is I simply cannot for the life of me understand how Varitek was chosen. One has to wonder what exactly the other players in the AL were thinking. Does he have incriminating pictures of A-Rod with Madonna? Does he know where Juan Uribe really stashed the gun in Santo Domingo? Did he speak with Frank Thomas' wife and realize that she has secretly invoked the "diminished skills" clause of their marriage contract? Nothing else makes much sense...

And, to heck with the "every team must have a representative" rule. What is this little league? Did Chase Utley cry when he stuck out? Is Geo Soto really only playing because he wants to go to Baskin Robbins after the game? (Man, I loved bubblegum ice cream when I was the starting second baseman for the Buffalo Grove Recreation Association's "Elks"). Is everyone mad at Miguel Tejada because it was his turn to bring a jug of grape Hi-C for the team, but forgot to after being distracted when his pregame delivery of Winstrol failed to show up at his hotel? If Giants' closer Brian Wilson and his Mike Morgan-esque 4.58 E.R.A. is the best you can do, you don't deserve to be represented. I mean, I like "Help Me, Rhonda" as much as anyone, but putting a bipolar Scizophrenic in the same dugout as Big Z may not be the smartest option. Just act Michael Barrett and his scrotal hematoma.

Oh, not that Brian Wilson? Oh, okay...

The other problem is the way the game is managed -- although it really is not the skipper's fault. He is simply doing his best to get as many players in the game as possible, but when the game can be potentially decided with Gil Meche on the mound and Freddy Sanchez at the dish (see 2007...), there is a problem. If home field advantage is to be decided by the All-Star Game than the game needs to be managed to win and the best players need to play the entire game. Period. I'm sure that all of Joe Crede's friends and family were delighted to see him manning the hot corner at the House That Ruth Built, but if you think AL fans would rather have him at the plate in a clutch situation instead of ARod than you probably think that Hellboy II is a lock for an Oscar. Either that or you thought it would be a good idea to leave Albert Pujols on the bench for the entire 2007 game.

Come to think of it, would someone please head out to Des Moines on September 1 and pick me up one of those Tony LaRussa bobbleheads. I know ultimately Chris Young, Brandon Webb and their D-Back teammates made the point irrelevant as far as the Cubs were concerned, but I would still like to smash that dang thing to pieces.

The bottom line is that I am not as vehemently opposed to having the All-Star Game decide home field advantage as the vast majority of baseball fans, but only if the necessary changes are made. Yes, there are alternatives that would work just as well (overall record, interleague record, most players who have dated Alyssa Milano, etc.), but, if you structure the game correctly, the All-Star Game is an effective solution. Albert Pujols versus Mariano Rivera with the bases loaded and two outs in the ninth and home field advantage on the line? I don't think anyone can argue with that.

(Postscript...the vast majority of this post was written in the first four innings of last night's game and, although I am certain that the cry is going to be louder than ever that it is just an exhibition game and the fact that both managers basically ran out of players proves that it should not and cannot be used to determine home field, I am not changing my mind. First of all, I do NOT want to hear anything about how the manager did not want to use certain players (i.e. Kazmir, Webb). If you are not willing/able to play, then let someone take your place who can and will. It is that simple. Second, the managers know the possibility of extra innings exists and it is their responsibility to prepare for such a situation. In fact, I would argue that what happened last night with the depletion of the rosters proves my point -- the best players have to be on the field at the end of the game. So, once again, my bottom line opinion is the same...make the necessary changes to the way the players are selected and the game is managed and it can work).

(And, by the way -- going back to the first paragraph of this post and my admission that I enjoy the game -- if you were not captivated last night by what turned out to be an absolute classic, there is a fried oyster eating contest on Fox Sports Mobile at midnight. Don't forget the Tabasco).

A few All-Star Game notes...

* A lot of eyebrows were raised when it was announced that Carlos Marmol was chosen to replace Kerry Wood on the NL squad. Although I must admit that I was quite surprised when I heard the news, it makes sense when you really think about it. It certainly seems like it was years -- instead of mere weeks --ago, but Marmol was absolutely filthy during the first two months of the season and was as responsible as anyone for the Cubs streaking out to the best record in baseball. To argue that he does not deserve to be on the All-Star team is akin to arguing that Greg Maddux should not be in the Hall-of-Fame given that his ERA has not been below 4.00 since 2003 (when it was 3.96). And, we all agree, that makes no sense.

* I can understand the argument that Marmol needs the time off and would be better spent drinking a Margarita on a Hualtulco beach, but being around the best in the game could wind up being just the tonic that he needs to recapture his stuff. Cubs' fans simply have to hope that Marmol stops for a second, takes a deep breath, looks around and realizes that he IS one of the most dominant pitchers in the majors.

(Postscript: Marmol looked like the April version in striking out two in an inning of work last night -- Wow, this may have worked out better than Cubs fans could have ever imagined if Carlos is able to regain his confidence as a result of his performance).

* The fact that the Sox did not have any pitchers in the game is an absolute joke and not the good kind... you know, the Eddie "Holy Cow Was I Funny Before I Turned Into a Talking Donkey" Murphy kind (want to bet that Don Cooper used his share of expletives when he learned that no Sox pitchers would be in New York. And speaking of cursing...Ozzie Guillen's response to an underperforming offense versus Eddie Murphy in "RAW." Discuss). In fact, I have not seen a pitching staff get this screwed since Jenna Jameson visited the 1987 Baltimore Orioles bullpen. It is unconscionable that they have the second best ERA in the major leagues, but are unrepresented. Does anyone look beyond statistics these days in making selections? John Danks' relatively low win total has got to be the only thing that kept him from making the trip and it is a shame.

* As a Cubs fan who understands that home field advantage could mean everything to a team that is 37-12 in the friendly confines, the result had me saying ugh. As in Ugh-la.

* Well, with Einstein Jones out of the league, the Random Thoughts is going to need a new whipping boy. Why hello, Mr. Ugh-la. Welcome to the RT! May your reign be long and vomit-inducing.

* Guess who made his first All-Star team? Milton Bradley! Good to see the former hot head make the AL squad. Although he has not achieved perfection this year, he has played well enough to make SportsCenter anchor Kenny Mayne shout out Yahtzee! With his infamous short temper, some scouts say that he sucks at the game of life and his poor clubhouse presence is too big a headache to deal with and will eventually be his downfall, but it appears as though his trouble may be behind him and he may be beginning to reach the summit of his career. I recommend he celebrate his selection by going to Candyland. And, unlike Eric Cartman, please feel free to buy him Ants in the Pants as a birthday gift. He doesn't want a red Megaman anyway...

* Yes, NycoMark...we all hate Chris Berman.

* Joakim Soria made the All-Star Team as Kansas City's lone representative. Soria appears to be a good young pitcher, but something tells me that George Brett, Frank White or Willie Wilson could make the team if they still suited up for the Royals. Yes, even at the age of 50-something. And, yes -- at least in the case of Wilson -- even after a night spent with Willie Aikens, Vida Blue and Doc Gooden.

* Soria's nickname is the Mexicutioner. Sweet.

And, now that you have learned something, I bid you adieu. After all, I've got a sudden desire to play Hungry, Hungry Hippos.

*** In the paragraph celebrating the all-star selection of Milton Bradley, there are 10 games referenced. How many can you name and please do not go bonkers trying to figure them all out? And, yes, they are all from Milton Bradley. Sorry, Parker Brothers, I understand your aggravation and, yes, I understand that Milton Bradley does not have a monopoly in the game market and that I am running the risk of making you really mad, but this post is celebrating Milton and not you.

****Yes, there are five Parker Brothers games in the above paragraph as well!

I'm Gonna Catch Me A Whopper!

[Sign Hanging on Door: "Gone Fishin'"]

There are certain traditions and rules in baseball that are most accurately described as nonsensical. For example, I have never been able to understand how a pitcher can throw a ball twenty feet over the first baseman's head on what should be the third out and then proceed to give up sixteen straight hits (that would probably be sixteen straight walks if your name is Carlos Marmol and the month starts with the letter 'J') and still be charged with ZERO earned runs.

Likewise, doesn't it seem a bit odd that baseball teams get so many days off during the first month of the season, yet are forced to play 26 straight days in the middle of the summer when it is, as Adrian Cronauer would say, hot...real hot...damn hot...so hot you could do a little crotch pot cooking? Yes, I have heard the argument that the players are just starting out the season and, therefore, not in mid-season form, but aren't these supposed to be well-conditioned athletes? I certainly understand there was a time when the off-season would be spent huntin', wrasslin' and chasin' Marilyn Monroe and Katharine Hepburn, but times supposedly have changed. Isn't today's major league baseball player supposed to come to spring training looking more like Mr. Clean and less like the Pillsbury Dough Boy, unless their name is CC, Prince or Bobby Jenks?

Well, I suppose it is what it is and I am in no position to argue. That said, let's just pretend that it is a brand new season of Random Thoughts and yesterday was opening day. Yes, I know that yesterday was perhaps the greastest opening day since Tuffy Rhodes belted three home runs off Doc Gooden and the Mets and you just cannot wait for more, but, Bud Selig and his minions have spoken. A day off is scheduled and a day off I shall take...

* Look, I know many of you are probably thinking "Oh great...here we go again" and I certainly cannot blame you. The bottom line is that I have no idea how often I am going to post. Frankly, my goal is to post 2-3 times a week, but with my schedule and the fact that I never know if I am going to be in St. Charles, St. Louis or St. Mark's Square two weeks from Tuesday, I simply cannot make any promises. All, I ask is that you check the RT once in a while as you simply never know when a new batch of Random Thoughts will be posted (and I really do not want to interfere with the hundreds of ads for Levitra in your inbox). One thing I can promise you is that it will NOT be another eleven months and there will be a new post long before Mark Prior ever pitches again!

Who Needs Two?

Okay, what do you say we not waste time with a pathetic intro about my prolonged absence (which incidentally lasted exactly 17 weeks and five days longer than Edward Stratton III's marriage) and instead jump right into the fun? And, no, you won't find any two word phrases on your fax machine. After all, I have no interest in ultimately moving to Washington D.C. (unless, of course, I get to live next to Saaaandra).

* Word has come out that Kerry Wood is off to visit a hand specialist about his "friction" blister. Uh oh.

For those of you interested, on August 5 the San Diego (he will always be the San Diego) Chicken will be appearing at Principal Park. Already got tickets to the R. Kelly "It's a Damn Good Thing I'm Famous" show that night and can't make it? Well, exactly one week later, it is lunchbox night. A new Knight Rider one would be cool...

I'm not saying, I'm just saying. Better order your tickets now to be safe.

* By the way, teens get in for half price. That's the R. Kelly show, not the Iowa Cubs game. And, by the way, I hear Marc Chumura will be there for those of you who admit to being Packers fans.


* Wait, what the heck do you mean Rich Hill is going to be featured on the lunchbox and not David Hasselholf?!?

* I love the Rich Harden acquisition. I hate the fact that the Cubs are going to treat him with kid gloves. Look, the guy is either hurt or he isn't. And, if he isn't, I say screw the pitch count. And, if he is...well, let's hope Sean Gallagher does not turn into Ricky Nolasco.

In any event, did I mention that September 1 is Tony LaRussa Bobblehead night? Say hello to Micah Hoffpauir and Jason Dubois while you are there. And don't forget to get your picture taken next to the Mark Prior Memorial Towel Drill Statute.

* Wait a second...a Tony LaRussa bobblehead doll night at an Iowa Cubs game? What the hell is that? That makes about as much sense as asking Kelvin Sampson to teach a class on college basketball recruiting ethics. I mean, couldn't they find some other manager that would be willing to have their likeness memorialized in bobble-head form? Did Jim Riggleman say no? Could they not find Bruce Kimm to get his permission? Haven't they ever heard of Herman Franks?

Coming in 2009... A.J. Pierzynski punching bag night and Steve Bartman autographed earphones day.

* Yes, Jason Dubois is back in the Cubs system. See...sure I've been gone for a while, but the more things change, the more they stay the same. He's actually hitting a lot of home runs. I would not be too concerned about my job if I were Sore-iano, Edmonds or any of the other Cubs outfielders, but, if I was Crash Davis I may want to stop arguing with Orleans Parish District Attorney Jim Garrison regarding whether Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone and think about practicing the line "records are meant to be broken."

* Hmm...Kevin Costner played both Crash Davis and Jim Garrison. Weird. I wonder how he reconciles that? Of course, he also played Robin of Locksley not that it has anything to do with anything.

* Look, I have no idea if the 100-year drought is going to end this October, but I do know that with British Columbia natives Harden and Ryan Dempster on the staff, the Cubs are not only the team most likely to have Molson in the clubhouse, but also the prohibitive favorites to win the MLB Curling championship and the Bryan Adams trivia challenge. Perhaps the new owner can look into paying these guys with jugs of moose milk.

* The answer to question #25 in the aforementioned challenge, by the way, is "Summer of '69." Paramedics to the WGN Radio booth. I repeat, paramedics to the WGN Radio booth stat!

* At least if things do not work out, we have a built in excuse now. "With their beady little eyes and flapping heads so full of lies..." Just ask Sheila Brofslowski.

* Whoa! Carlos Marmol suddenly turned into a combination of Felix Heredia and Antonio Alfonseca. If I was Lou or Larry Roth-S-child, I would check to make sure he still has only five fingers on each hand. Now, I am a self-admitted pessimist when it comes to my favorite baseball team and so it shouldn't surprise you to hear that Marmol's recent performance has me as worried as a parent who lets his child spend the night with Michael Jackson, but even the most optimistic Cubs fan has to admit that this is real cause for alarm and has the potential to really hinder the bullpen for the rest of the year. Anyone know what Matt Karchner is up to?

* Remember in the early-mid 80's when all things Australia were the rage? A time when American culture was dominated by the land where women glow and men plunder? A time when Koala Blue was the place to see and be seen. A time when Olivia Newton-John was more than just the chick in the tight leather pants who tells Danny Zucko he better shape up because she needs a man. I certainly do.

I take you down memory lane to remind you that, as cruel as it is, many imports have a limited shelf life and I am concerned that major league pitching has figured out the Cubs' right fielder. Let's just hope that Kosuke lasts longer in Chicago than Shingo and does not find himself joining Takatsu working in a Hello Kitty factory six miles north of Osaka.

* Wait a minute...I recognize that foreman who is asking Hee Seop Choi to sew those Chococat dolls a little more quickly. Why yes, it is Bruce Kimm!!!

* Yes, I have used that one before. Jeez, I was hoping that at least one of you out there was named Jason Bourne.

* Yeah, that one too. Can't you hear the thunder? You better run, you better take cover.

* Why is nobody in Chicago talking about the fact that Derrek Lee has hit the same number of home runs since June 1 as CC Sabathia? I have not seen a power outage like this since millions of Notheasterners had to miss the Disney premiere of The Cheetah Girls in August of '03. Hey, at least he is not Paul Konerko...

* For those of you wondering... Thing One*** is hitting .183 for the Baltimore Orioles and still terrorizing Sally and that unnamed kid on days when it is too wet to play. Thing Two is hanging out with Lenny Bruce in an amphetemines den, patiently awaiting a call from Dusty Baker. Stephen Hawking Hairston is hitting .349 (.349!!!) for the Reds (Ty Cobb Hairston?). And Random Thoughts Hottie #1 welcomed Honor Marie Warren on June 7. Okay now...everyone together...and don't worry...it will come back to you. Knee-high black leather boots. Navel piercing. Nancy Callahan dancing on the bar in Sin City. Now, isn't that better?

* Finally (and I still cannot believe I have waited this long to blog about this!), I must share one of the most satisfying experiences I have had at a sporting events with the loyal readers of the Random Thoughts. As most of you know, there are certain athletes that are rather, shall we say, disliked by this author and widely criticized for their inept ability, aggravating manner or downright stupidity. I, for example, would not shed a tear if Hawk Harrelson, A.J. Pierzynski or Will Oh-Man! found themselves on Drew Petersen's hit list, but few athletes have been written about in this space with more vitriol that Einstein Jones.

And so it was last October when, on an unseasonable 89-degree Saturday afternoon, I found myself sitting in the second row of the centerfield bleachers watching my beloved Cubs get swept by the Arizona Diamondbacks. I believe it was the top of the eight inning when it dawned on me, WrigleyBill's wife and everyone else around us that there would be no amazing comback and the North Siders' season was about to come to an end. And there he was...a mere 15-20 feet away.

Well, exactly what I said is not important.. What is important is that Jacque Jones, the man who has raised more ire than anyone in Random Thoughts history, turned around, looked me in the eye, and gave me the the one-finger salute. Yes, Einstein you are #1. And, no, I would not like fries with that.

***For those of you who are new to the RT and those of you who are Jason Bourne...Thing One is former-Cub Freddie Bynum, thing two is Neifi Perez, Stephen Hawking Hairston is Jerry Hairston Jr. (duh!), and Random Thoughts Hottie #1 is Susan Storm, aka Honey Daniels, aka Max Guevara, aka "Possibly The Hottest Chick on the Planet."

* Sheesh, do you expect me to do all the work for you?

The Best News in the Past Six Months

No, not that Eloit Spitzer has been caught in a Manhattan bar with Vivian Ward and Divine Brown...

...but rather, Gunston is dancing!!!!!!!

Can anyone say Cinda-fucking-rella? Laura San Giacomo will be watching.