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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!!