Czech Out?

Mike Seaver may have been a troublemaker, but you have got to admit that he was a pretty cool kid. I mean, he wasn't quite Zack Morris cool, but he certainly wasn't Chris Griffin either. He was always pretty smooth with the ladies and virtually always assured of having a date to the Homecoming dance. He may have even once gone to the Max with Kelly Kopowski.

But one time, Mike met Lydia Shayne, a girl that was so beautiful she literally took his breath away. Long blonde hair, a smile that could light up a room, an unbelievable body... He was sure that she was the perfect catch and that the two of them would live happily ever after.

And then he heard her nails-on-chalkboard voice and realized that to say she had the IQ of a turnip would be an overstatement. A mentally challenged turnip maybe.

Now, I do not mean to suggest that Martin Havlat has the IQ of a turnip or any other uneaten vegetable, but the Hawks' decision regarding whether to resign him is analogous to Mike's deicison regarding whether to ask the blonde out on a date. Oh sure, they both promise hours of enjoyment, but you do also have to get past the utter frustration that is inevitable. You see, while most "new" Hawks' fans will tell you that the decision is an easy one... that you simply cannot let a guy with such skill sign elsewhere, most "new" Hawks" fans were also not among the 235 or so of us who suffered through Marty's knee and Marty's back and Marty's shoulder and Marty's hangnail and Marty's mosquito bite during his first two years in the Indian head sweater. You see, Martin Havlat may very well be Czechloslavakian for Mike Brown or Kerry Wood (you thought I was going to say Prior, didn't you? Well, I'd argue that Michal Grosek is Czech for Prior... in other words a guy who will help your team about as much as knowing that Hillary Swank and Heather Graham once appeared on Growing Pains will help you understand how such an annoying actress got the role of Chrissy).

There is simply no question that Havlat has tremendous scoring ability, is a better skater than most NHL players, and has terrific instincts, but, the sad truth is that his equipment bag includes not only skates, pucks, and gloves, but ace bandages, splints, and cortizone needles s well. This is after all, a guy who played 18, 56 and 35 games per season before suiting up for 81 in 2009 (which just happened to be his contract year, hmmm...). Who's in Marty's Fave Five? I'd wager Dr. House, Dr. Nick Riviera, Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, his agent and his investment advisor.

So the question is do you spend the money on a guy who is undeniably talented, but who is incredibly injury prone and likely to miss a portion of the season? Of course, it is the same question that every other team will have to ask when considering whether to offer Marty a rich contract. And you know that someone will offer a guy with that much talent a big contract (If nothing else the Yankees will probably offer him a big deal in hopes that he can become a left-handed specialist. I mean, he got to be better than Aaron Heilman. Heck, Mike's best friend Boner would probably be better than Heilman).

Ultimately, I think Chicago has learned it lesson with players like Brown and Wood and Uterus Deng. With the NHL salary cap expected to be lowered and the contracts of Kane and Toews expiring after next year, I think the Hawks' are best served if they pass on dishing out big money to Havlat. Yes, you will be losing one of the most naturally skilled players in hockey, but you also get to avoid the frustration of seeing him sitting in the press box eating nachos while suffering from a case of Richhardenitis.

Now, if there was only a way they could sign him for just one night...

* Whether to resign Havlat is the Hawks' biggest off-decision decision simply because you have to believe that the team is not seriously considering bringing Khabibulin back. I'm not sure how I feel about this, if only because I trust Cristobal Huet in net about as much as I would trust Growing Pains' alum Annette Funicello between the pipes. A lot of hockey fans assume that Huet is a young up-and-comer given the fact that they had likely never heard of the Frenchman before a year or so ago and the fact that the Blackhawks' gave him a big contract. Well, the truth is that Huet turns 34 years old in September and has a grand total of 103 wins in a six-year NHL career. That has to make you uneasy as a Hawks' fan.

Yet, all indications are that the Hawks' will let the Bulin wall walk (or skate as the case may be), because of the money they have tied up in Huet (kind of like the situation where the producers of the new 90210 had to hire complete nobodys to play the show's main roles given the huge money they paid to have yet another Growing Pains' alum, Jennie Garth, reprise her role as Kelly Taylor) and the fact that it is bad business to allocate that much of a salary cap to goaltending. This is the single biggest problem the Hawks' face in '09 and it is not easily solved. After all, Jeff Hackett may be cheap, but he is also 41 and was never that good to begin with.

* The Hawks' other two free agents are Sammy Pahlsson and Matt Walker who, in the grand scheme of things, are the equivalent of Jose Macias and Pablo Ozuna. Decent players who play a role, but who are easily replaceable. And while I suppose you can't just go down to a third world hellhole somewhere in Latin America and pluck some barefooted kid off the street like some baseball teams try to do, I'm confident that if Pahlsson and Walker do not return to the west side, that it will make that much of a difference. I mean, it's not like if Growing Pains alum Leah Remini left Doug Heffernan high and dry.

What do you think the Hawks should do about Brown, er... Havlat, Nik, Pahlsson and Walker? Post a comment!

* One quick baseball note from the weekend... Parker Brothers has been routinely criticized so far this season for making a number of plays that remind Cubs' fans of Einstein Jones and so it is only fair that we recognize the absolutely brillant play that he made on Saturday afternoon. In the bottom of the third inning, Parker was on first and Reed Johnson was on third with only one out in the inning and Derrek Lee at the plate. Recognizing that the Cubs have about as much chance of getting a runner in from third with under two outs as Growing Pains' alum Matthew Perry has of replacing Havlat on the Hawks' second line next year and realizing that a 6-4-3 was likely imminent given that it was DP Lee at the plate, Parker proceeded to get himself thrown out "trying" to advance to second base. Of course, Lee then walked and Johnson laid down a perfect two-out bunt to drive in the run.

Raise a pint to our friend Parker Brothers -- a real man of genius. The difference is suckability.

I Got $150 On Latika

Yesterday I spent considerable time talking about the youth of the Blackhawks and I promised that today I would continue the discusion and further look to the future. Well, you know what? Just like George when he claimed to be a marine biologist to impress Diane DeConn, I prevaricated. In other words... I lied.

But I am confident you will agree that I have lied for a very good reason and today's topic is something that the RT simply cannot ignore (and I am equally confident that I will not have to take a golf ball out of the blowhole of a whale). You see, last night I came across a group of youngsters who are not only so vernal that they make Patrick Kane look like he is ready to get his AARP card and meet Rose, Sonja and Dorothy down at the bingo parlor, but who are also among the few who can successfully orthographize the word orthographize. We are talking about the kids who refuse to play dodge ball because they are too busy memorizing the names of all the presidents... the kids who got the crap beaten out of them simply because they knew that the 13th president was, in fact, Millard Fillmore... the kids who don't even bother turning the spellcheck on when writing a love letter to the Jonas Brothers or Hannah Montana (look, even the geeks love Hannah and the Jonases).

Yes, readers of the RT, last night was the annual Scripps National Spelling Bee. And, since I am sure that most of you were too busy trying to figure out whether it was Derrek Rose, Jalen Rose, Pete Rose or Rose DeWitt Berkater who took the NBA Rookie of the Year's high school SAT test to have actually watched the excitement, I am here to give you the highlights...

* After watching for a few minutes, I quicky realized that I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer, at least when it comes to spelling. Not only could I not spell most of the words, but I could not even come close to correctly spelling the names of most of the contestents. Ramya, Kennyi, Anamika, Kavya, Aishwarya? I thought those were the most recent locations on the show Survivor. Extras from Slumdog Millionaire? Heck, after watching a couple of rounds, I began to wonder whether I was Stephen Hawking Hairston's long-lost twin brother.

* I guess I should not be to suprised that I had a difficult time correctly spelling laodicean, maecenas and menhir. After all, despite fully qualifying as a nerd myself, I never was very successful in spelling bees when I was a child. I kept spelling relief, r-o-l-a-i-d-s, and penguin, r-o-n-c-e-y.

* Oh yeah Kennyi. Let's see you try and spell Koyie, Kosuke, Hoffpauir and WhycantIstopswingingatoffspeedcraporiano? Not so smug now, are ya?

* The contestants ranged in age from 9-14, which is why I was quite shocked when one young man by the name of Sidharth appeared on stage with an upper-lip push-broom that would impress even Coach Quennville and Ned Flanders. Of course, after misspelling the word "bajusz," poor Sidharth broke into tears, hugged his parents and immediately headed to the bathroom to shave off his traditional spelling bee mustache.

* Mustache boy's reaction was bad, but nothing was worse than the reaction of the sole representative from Venezuela. After mispelling the word "manyakkimse," the poor kid tried to throw the spelling judge out of the ballroom, bumped the poor Scripps' representative, threw his protractor into the crowd, smashed the chocolate milk machine with his Trapper Keeper and Calculus book, and finished off his evening by beating the crap out of Michael Barrett.

* Neither Random Thoughts Hottie #1 or Random Thoughts Hottie #2 were contestants. Yes, just another pathetic excuse to post pictures that ought to have you tatooning "Jessica" across your chest. I hope you enjoy.

* One thing that became quite evidant is that the Spelling Bee is a gentler, friendlier competition than I am used to. Most telling was the fact that wrong answers were met with the ringing of a nice little bell. No "You're fired." No "The tribe has spoken." No "You're auf!" (in fact, much to my dismay, no Heidi Klum at all). And certainly no "you spelled the dang word wrong, now get your nerdy, loser ass off the stage." My gosh, couldn't we have some sort of a threatening-sounding buzzer or, at least, ask Willy Wonka to greet misspellers with an "I'm sorry! You lose! You get nothing!!!" What's next? Every kid is going to get to bat in every inning in tee ball? I ask you, is this really the way we want to raise our kids? Look, I'm sorry Coach Wuss, but you're wrong. Not every kid is a winner. And, no, you don't get a trophy when you suck.

* Almost everyone knows that you can gamble on practically everything these days -- from how many runners the Cubs will fail to get home from third base with under two outs (I guess we may wish to hold off on construction of the Scales-Fox wing in Cooperstown, huh?), to whether Rich Harden's season will come to an end as the result of an inflammed cervix, to whether Alonzo Spellman or Tank Johnson will one day come back and kill us all. And, yes, it turns out that you can even wager on the Spelling Bee. For example, you can bet on whether the winner will be a boy or a girl, whether the winner will wear glasses, whether the final word will be more or less than eight letters (I took the under, after all "berjudi" is only seven letters), and whether the winner will end up living alone in a Montana cabin, continously reciting all the lines from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, while building a homemade pipe bomb. I wonder if that is why Michael Jordan and Charles Barkley were seen slinking around the Washington D.C. Grand Hyatt gift shop?

* I always find it interesting when a radio station gives away concert tickets and the winner proclaims "Oh my gosh, I am the biggest Quiet Riot fan in the whole world!!!" Excuse me, but, if you were really the BIGGEST Quiet Riot fan in the world, wouldn't you already have tickets? Keep this in mind when I tell you that the winner of the Spelling Bee recieves $30,000, a $2,500 savings bond and a whole collection of encyclopedias and dictionairies. Isn't this a little like giving Roger Clemens a case of hypodermic needles or giving Cedric Benson and Slater from Dazed and Confused a on-hitter? I mean, sure you could always use more, but don't you imagine that Naraj already has the complete set of World Books? Sheesh, at least Lisa Simpson would have won a George Plimpton endorsed hot plate had she spelled "intransigence" correctly.

I gotta go. I hear there is a special showing of Akeelah and the Bee on BET and that cute little scamp "Alex" is signing copies of his best seller "Spellympics: The Making of a Champion" at the Borders in Schaumberg.

We'll continue the Blackhawks post mortum on Monday. I luvata. Have a great weekend!

* There are ten words misspelled in this post. Can you find them all?

* And, no, the words "bajusz," "manyakkimse," "berjudi" and "luvata" are not misspelled. Just for the record they are "mustache (in Hungarian), "maniac" (in Turkish), "gamble" (in Indonesian), and "promise" (in Finnish). You'll thank me when you win the (insert name of hometown here) Spelling Bee!

Blackhawk Down

And so the series is over. Look, I know that everyone is disappointed that it ended as quickly as it did, but, truth be told, Detroit simply had more talent and, perhaps, more importantly, more experience. I mean, players like Joe Dumars, Isiah Thomas and Bill Laimbeer have been through the playoff wars before and, as a result, know exactly what it takes. And you have to admit that trying to stop Mark Aguirre and Vinnie Johnson from getting position in front of the net is awfully difficult. In fact, I do not believe it was until Juan Uribe and Bartolo Colon decided to challenge Davie Hogan at the 2006 Castle Rock pie eating contest that two athletes with bigger butts were seen in the same room. I can't say, however, whether Juan or Bartolo drank a bottle of cator oil or swallowed a raw egg before the contest... Either way, I'm pretty sure it was not pretty.

Anyway, I am sure we all agree that comparisons to the late nineties battles between the Bulls and Pistons are inevitable -- a veteran championship team teaching the young up-and-comers a lesson or two about what it takes to win. And, unfortunately, the Blackhawks had to learn a crucial lesson: to be the best, eventually you have to take on and beat the best. This is the same lesson the Bulls and countless other teams have learned as they grew into champions. I mean, who can forget Coach Buttermaker, Tanner Boyle and his band of Jews, spics, pansies and booger eatin' morons (his words, not mine...) who learned the exact same lesson after coming so close to knocking off the hated Yankees. No word, however, regarding whether Brent Seabrook suggested that the Red Wings take their trophies and shoved them straight up their asses (although I'd be willing to bet that the entire Clarence S. Campbell Bowl may very well fit up Aguirre's plentiful derierre).

The Bulls, of course, eventually exposed the Pistons as a bunch of classless jackasses; finally shaking off migraine headaches and shoves into the basket stanchion to beat Detroit in the '90-91 Eastern Conference Finals. Now, I really do not know whether the Blackhawks will be able to kick Henrik in his Zetterberg next year, the year after that, or in some other year in the future, but it is awfully hard to not be excited about the coming years. The team grew by leaps and bounds this year and the arrow is undeniably pointing up, making it very difficult to argue that this team is not poised for a long run of success.

The primary reason for such optimism is the team's much talked about youth. The Blackhawks are, after all, the youngest team in hockey. Now, nobody should fool themselves into thinking that injuries and egos and contracts and fights over who gets to be the first to date Anna Kournikouva are not going to come into play at some point, but, for now, there is no reason not to conclude that Timbuk 3 was right... time to go look for your old Ray-Ban's. Say hello to Joel Goodsen and god willing, you will run into Rebecca DeMornay on the 'L'.

* So, exactly how young are the Blackhawks? Well, anyone can point out that so many players are under a certain age, but I prefer to put things into what I consider to be the proper context. That said, consider this... of the 20 Hawk skaters who played the vast majority of the minutes this season, all 20 are younger than Cubs' rookie Bobby Scales. Ok, so Bobby's long history playing in the same league as David Kelton and Crash Davis is well known, so consider this... 18 of them are younger than Micah Hoffpauir. And, while it is true that Micah is not exactly young, an amazing 14 of the players are younger that last year's NL Rookie of the Year Todd Hundley, er Geovany Soto. Wow!

But that does not tell the story as it relates to the difference in experience between the Red Wings and the Hawks. Well, how about the fact that Patick Kane was two, Jonathan Toews was three and even a "veteran" like Patrick Sharp was playing with Chewbacca and GI Joe action figures at the ripe old age of eight when Red Wings' captain Niklas Lidstrom played his first NHL game. And how about Chris Chelios? When Chelios played his first game for the Montreal Canadians, only eight of the players were alive and it would still be four and one-half years before Pat and Donna Kane of Buffalo would give birth to a son named Patrick. Of course, Chelios broke into the NHL four years before Mark Grace ever set foot in a Wrigley Field batter's box, which may say more about the fact that it is truly time for Christos to take advantage of the senior cup of coffee discount than it does about the relative youth of the Hawks. I'll let you decide...

Want more? How about the fact that seven Blackhawks were not alive for either the Challenger disaster or Henry Waechter's safety in Super Bowl XX (and Andrew Ladd was only a little more than a month old), eleven did not witness Leon Durham's error in the seventh inning of the fifth and deciding game of the '84 NLCS, and not a one of them were with us when the introduction of a brand new 24-hour all-sports cable network allowed Chris Berman to become the most annoying man on television, Gloria Gaynor proclaimed that she will survive and William Shatner was better known as the original Captain Kirk than the idiotic moron from the Priceline commercials. The truth is that I have not seen a group of kids have such success since a quintet of British/ Jamaican younsters asked everyone to pass the Dutchie on the left-hand side (and, just for the record, at least 16 of the Hawks players would not have had a chance to hear the song played by Larry Lujack and Little Tommy on WLS AM even if they did not live in Moose Guts or Poutine or Molsonville or someother bizarre "city" in Canada).

Oh yeah, and only Campbell, Pahlsson, Walker and Havlat (and only by nine days) were alive when Random Thoughts Hottie #1 was born. I mention this for no other reason than to be able to post a long overdue picture of the lovely Miss Alba and to everyone to smile, if only for a minute.

So what does this all mean? It means that Roger Daltrey and Pete Townsend were wrong... the kids are not alright. The truth is that the kids are a heck of a lot better than alright. And I don't think I am overstating it when I say that it is reasonable to have realistic expectations of a Stanley Cup in Chicago in the not-too-distant future.

* By the way, I do mind other guys dancing with my girl.

* Switching sports, I do want to point out that a lot of trouble could have been avoided if Sweet Lou had just read the Random Thoughts and taken my advice. Yes, he was smart enough to give Bobby Scales a chance to claim Prior's old locker at Principal Park in Des Moines, but what about Derrek Lee? I cannot pretend that anything could have been done about Big Z's explosion, his bump of the ump, his mighty hurl toward the left-center bleachers, or his general insanity, but, if only Lou had listened to my suggestion, the poor Gatorade machine could have been spared!! Instead of being guarded by Lee, security for the Rockin' Raspberry and Luscious Limeade was left to Ryan Dempster and he was too busy making his early October plans for a vacation to Moose Guts. I guess Lee's bout with the Shane Andrews Flu just did not last long enough.

* Personally, I did not think that Z's "explosion" was quite as bad as everyone made it out to be. Yes, he went a little nuts, but it did not seem to be that out of control in my opinion. That said, I am sure he will be suspended and rightfully so. It will be interesting to see whether Parker Brothers is suspended too. Just because... well, you know, the umps have it out for him and all.

* Finally, going unreported is the fact that Sammy Sosa Soriano drifted over the catch Z's mighty hurl, camped under the flight of the ball, did his cute little hop, and dropped the ball.

I hate that frickin' hop.

More post mortem on the Blackhawks tomorrow. And, please do not forget to vote in the poll if you have not already done so!!!!

Could Be Worse... Could Be Navarro, Karchner and Someotherpieceofcrapwhoneverdidshit

Blanco, Waddell & Fox...

Who to call when Lance Briggs rams his Ferrari into the back of your Hyundai Sonata and you develop mysterious neck and back pain? (Assuming Jackie Childs is not available, of course)

The three people whose number you need to know when you "accidentally" run Neal Cotts over with a steamroller?

The three medical geniuses that are going to make Rich Harden's latest boo boos feel all better?

The Hawks' third line in 2003?

No. No. No. And No...

Welcome to the North Side, Andres, Jason and Jake. Ugh. Perhaps I can use the money I was saving for playoff tickets for both Teddy Ruxpin and a 1984 vintage stuffed Ewok.

I don't know about you, but I would have preferred Pujols, Santana and Peavy.

Sigh.

This One Time, At Wrigley Field...

I remember the first time I saw American Pie. Walking into the theatre, I really did not know anything about the movie and, therefore, did not know what to expect. Keep in mind that this was before anybody had ever heard of Jason Biggs, Chris Klein or Seann William Scott, long before Tara Reid's left breast was the most talked about body part at Puff Daddy's 35th birthday bash, and a good 4-5 years before Reid and an equally down-and-out Lindsay Lohan got into a battle over who could land more appearances on "Caught on Tape: The Panties Edition." Oh sure, everyone fondly remembered Eugene Levy's role as the automobile salesman who sold Clark Griswold the Family Truckster, but Levy's future performances in "The Last Polka," "Camp Candy" and "Maniac Mansion" did not exactly leave me begging for more. Not to mention the fact that American Pie was not marketed quite as heavily as it would probably be today, thanks to McDonald's passing on the opportunity to promote the movie with "Jim's Apple Pie" (Now With Extra Secret Sauce!!!) in "Happy" Meals. I guess they were too busy trying to convince the world that Jar Jar Binks was a clever and likeable character.

And so, I walked into the theatre with little expectations. Well, two hours later, I had to admit that I had not laughed quite that hard in a movie theatre since Prince Akeen pretended to be a goat herder. Of course, I also exited the theatre with a new found appreciation for exchange students from the Czech Republic as well as a better understanding of what really goes on at Band Camp. At the end of the day, I walked out the movie and thought to myself that Prague, student, magazines, webcam, melons...

Wait a minute...where was I again? Sorry I lost my train of thought.

Anyway, a couple of years later, I happily bought my ticket for American Pie 2 only to walk out of the theatre disappointed. Oh sure, there were some funny scenes, but something seemed to be missing. Despite the return of practically every major cast member, it had trouble sustaining humor and, therefore, ended up a disappointment in my mind. In fact, at the end of the day, I could not help but wonder whether Mena Suvari had really meant that much to the first movie (yes, I know Mena made a cameo appearance in AP2, but let's face it, she wasn't really "in" the movie).

Mark DeRosa, meet Mena Suvari. Mena Suvari, this is Mark DeRosa.

You see, the 2009 Chicago Cubs have thus far been an awful lot like American Pie 2. Yes, there have been some successes, but, despite a cast of characters that is essentially the same as the 97-win team that took the field in '08, the team appears to be much, much different. And like many of the characters in the movie, this year's Cubs have an awful lot of difficulty scoring (you saw that one coming didn't you?).

In fact, just think of the scene when Stifler, Jim, and Finch come oh so close to convincing their new female neighbors to put on a show. And now think of last night's Cubs' game. Oh yeah, it looks like the losing streak is going to come to a close...oh yeah...we've got eight runs, um hmmm, it is gong to happen.. yeah... yeah.

Oh well.

Can we blame Neal Cotts and Freddy Sanchez for Danielle and Amber's refusal to close the deal as well?

Ultimately, I believe that this is going to be one of the most disappointing baseball seasons of my life as a Cubs' fan. So much promise going in, but a team that is simply not as good as we all hoped and expected. Do I believe that the team will close the season on a 127 game losing streak? Um, no. In fact, I think this team will win it's fair share of games and will end up in contention for the division title at the end of the year. But I, for one, am not going to pass on buying AllHailtheChief's suddenly for sale Teddy Ruxpin just to save my money for World Series tickets

At this point, let's just hope that the team does not spend movie night watching American Pie 3. Otherwise, I's setting the over/ under on 2010 wins at 52.

* Tough weekend all around for those of us who are fans of the Cubs and Blackhawks. Sharpie's overtime winner Friday night was great, but, it goes without saying that Sunday's performance left a little to be desired. Some real quick notes from the Western Conference Finals...

* I had the pleasure of watching Friday night's game with RT readers "Mad Chemist" and "AllInOnTheFirstHand." Great time and my addicition to the potato wedges and queso at BW3 is reaching Tara Reid proportions (it will always be BW3. I mean, what happened to the weck? Would someone please tell me why he weck got the short shift?). Kudos to Tom for being the first to question whether Khabibulin had changed his pads during the second intermission. It turns out that, yes, Khabinbulin did change his pads... as well as his helmet, his number, his name, his nationality and his ability to make difficult saves. I am disappointed that I did not notice the change until they put Huet's name on the screen as I usually fashion myself a pretty observant guy.

* I also did not notice when Huet changed his pads between the first and second periods of Sunday's game. It is now being reported he went from Kotex to Stayfree.

* The worst goal was Franzen's with 16 seconds left in the first period Sunday. Heck, I've seen Lisa Simpson make tougher saves when playing for the Gougers. Give up soft goals like that and any goalie will learn what Huet learned on Sunday... let too many through and you are likely to miss your next period (and the one after than and the one after that...).

* The Franzen goal may have been the softest, but the most devastating was the goal that was scored only 12 seconds after Toews had put the Hawks on the board and cut the lead to 3-1. Talk about losing newly-gained momentum! Can someone please tell me what the heck Brian Campbell was doing on that play? Frankly, after making a play like that he really ought to be as embarrassed as Jim was moments after offering to lend Nadia a hand. I mean, doesn't he have to be punished? My advice is to make Campbell babysit Huet's newborn child.

* I do not pretend to fully understand the rules of hockey interference, but from what I know, Kronwall's hit on Havlat seemed to be clean. Although it worked to the Hawks' benefit, it is really too bad when officials (in any sport) make a call because they feel as though they have to. And it happens all the time.

* I agree with Coach Q that the officiating in Game 4 was pretty bad, but to say that it had any effect on the outcome of the game is akin to blaming the Angels' 17-3 loss to the White Sox on Ervin Santana's walk of Jim Thome in the 2nd innning (see Sox fans, I love you too!).

* Finally, the worst part of Sunday's loss was the fact that Detroit won despite playing without key cogs Nik Lidstrom, Pavel Datsyuk and Kris Draper -- I mean, you never want to lose when Chris Chelios is forced to put down the walker and lace up the skates. This would be like American Pie being a success without the MILF or the Cubs actually winning a game without Aramis and, at this point, it sure as heck doesn't look like that is going to happen!!

Gotta go...

After All, Philip Rivers Is A Better QB Than Josh Fields

...and Carol Brady and my mom and Carmelo Anthony and The Most Interesting Man in the World and Michael Vick. And Vick can't even leave the house. That's 39 at bats and counting with a grand total of two hits for "Little Babe Ruth," or as he shall now be known, "Little Paul Bako."

* Perhaps we need to remind Sammy Sosa Soriano and his teammates that its not October and these are not the playoffs. In other words, it's okay to... oh, I don't know... score more than one run per game. I can only imagine Harry Doyle doing the post game show. "One run...that's all we got is one g-d damned run" (yep, used that one before too).

* Maybe we should blame the Cubs' lack of offense on Dale Tallon, The Bulin Wall and the young stars of the Blackhawks. I mean, Cub players are clearly not used to having the Hawks fight for headlines. That usually only happens in October when the headlines have been traditionally dedicated to talking about which golf course Ted Lilly is going to play first, now that the team has been swept out of the playoffs, and trying to convince us that whatever overpriced, over-the-hill "superstar" the Hawks signed in the off-season still has something left (think Doug Gilmour, Paul Coffey, pretty much any piece of crap who was able to continue collecting an NHL paycheck thanks to the idiocy of Dollar Bill). It's no wonder they think it is October and the playoffs...

* Man, it sure is fun to be Hawks fan again!!!!!

* Take a look at the Cubs' starting lineup on Thursday night. Notice anything? Yes Lou, there is a real problem when starting pitcher Sean Marshall has the sixth best batting average of the nine starters and is only .06 points away from fifth.

* A hearty welcome to the "Mediocre Players Who Kill the Cubs Club" goes out to the Cardinals' Brian Barden. Barden is now 10-18 with 3 home runs versus the North Siders. That's a .556 average for those of you who traded in your digital calculator watch for a "Save Ferris" t-shirt back in '86 (No, AllHailTheChief only you traded your calculator watch for a Teddy Ruxpin). Barden, mind you, has a .176 average and a single home run against the rest of the league. In other words, Brian Barden appears to be 2009's answer to Jeff Blauser only without a side of Mark Lemke.

* Carlos Quentin's two-out single in the bottom of the eighth, scoring Brian Anderson had to really piss off all of you that had the Twins - 19 1/2.

* So Jake Peavy has refused to waive his trade clause and join the Sox. With the Padres non-competitive in the NL West and the Sox likely to be in the thick of the AL Mediocre race all summer, it is hard to understand why he would not want to make the move. I have seen a number of different reasons, including:

A. He can't stop laughing at the thought of Jimmy Gobble making a major league paycheck and is afraid that it will affect his success.

B. He bleepin' doesn't bleepin' like being called a bleepin' bleep.

C. Although they are roughly the same size, he prefers hanging out with Shamu over Stacey King

D. He's heard the Sox postgame buffet horror stories that naturally come with having Bartolo Colon and Bobby Jenks on the same team. After all, poor Alexi Ramirez has had nary a plaintain since he floated over on his bed raft.

E. Megan Mawicke may be easy on the eyes, but, c'mon people... San Diego is the home of Tits McGee

If I'm a White Sox fan, I'm certainly disappointed, but have the attitude of "Hey, if you do not want to be here, then we do not want you." See Fred McGriff, Cubs 2001, for a prime example. I can still remember being so excited when it was announced that the Crime Dog had been traded to the Cubs. And I can also remember being not so excited with his performance and, more importantly, his attitude. Frankly, I had not seen someone look less enthused to be somewhere and look more out of place since Frenchy made the mistake of inviting Sandy to the Pink Ladies sleepover. And we all know how that ended... with an ear piercing gone terribly wrong, more blood than in a Saw movie and a sappy song. So unless, Peavy was going to be "hopelessly devoted" to Kenny, Ozzie and the rest of the South Siders, his decision may end up for the best.

* Okay, your turn to demonstrate your creativity!!! Why do you think Peavy refused the trade? Post a comment below. And please be sure to vote in the new poll on the right-hand side of the page (and please be honest!!).

Have a GREAT weekend and Go Hawks!!

The List Also Includes Jimmy Buffett, RT Hottie #1, Screech, Torrence Shipman, Bill Buckner, Me...

Great, first Bob Gibson and now Dizzy Dean? Whose next? Joaquin Andujar before he started hanging out with Stephen King and the characters from Less Than Zero in an East St. Louis coke den?

The sad truth is that the Cubs are having a harder time scoring than...

- If you are a longtime reader of the Random Thoughts, please read below.

... Andy Stitzer, before finally deciding to stop hanging out watching "Survivor" with the old folks and before he met Trish.

- If you are new to the Random Thoughts, please read below.

... the Shermanator at one of Stifler's parties (that one is too good to not share with all the RT rookies).

* Yes, I did love "Choose Your Own Adventure" books when I was a kid.

* Anyone else wondering when it is time to give Derrek Lee and his .230 batting average primary responsibility for guarding the big bin of sunflower seeds? Don't get me wrong, I like Derrek, but I do have to admit that I am very curious about what Micah Hoffpauir can do if given the opportunity to play every day. I mean, wasn't the supposed "missing piece" a left-handed bat with power? Well, looky what we have here...a left-handed bat with power.

* Milton Bradley, of course, was supposed to be the answer. Well, if he is the answer, I don't think I want to know what the question is. Perhaps "What do you get when you take Scott Bullett, Damon Buford, the pre-androlone version of Sarge Jr. and a pile of crap and mix them all together?"

* A week or so ago, Parker Brothers commented "I didn't come here to suck and I know that so far I have sucked." Well apparantly Hasbro has also come her to get doubled off first base after drawing a bases-on-balls to lead off an inning. Looks like Kenner found Moises Alou's old baserunning manual (yeah, I'm bringing out all of the old favorites).

* By the way, Geo Soto, you're about three more weak fly balls away from taking over security detail for the Gatorade jug. You and Derrek can discuss how amazing it is that Koyie Hill went from almost losing all five of his fingers on one hand to being an everyday major league catcher.

* Mad Chemist, Bearister, AllHailTheChief, Bugs Bunny, Jay Cutler, Pat Foley, Boris the Cat, President Obama, Mick Jagger, the guy whose credit is detroyed forcing him to serve iced tea and sing catchy jungles to tourists in t-shirts, Dylan McKay, the Son of Svengoolie, Gorgon the Magnificent, Dr. Gregory House, the Geico pile of money that you could be saving if you switched your car insurance. There you go... a sampling of people and creatures who have exactly two less hits than Mike Fontenot since May 5, encompassing 36 at bats!

* Hi Bobby. Hope you enjoyed your cup of coffee. Here is a nice "I played in the major leagues and all I got was this lousy t-shirt" t-shirt. The bus for Iowa leaves at 5:17. Say hello to Ray Kinsella and Todd Lickliter for me and please be sure to pay proper homage to the Prior and Wood memorial towel drill statute outside of Principal Park in Des Moines. Oh, and I hear the bridges of Madison County are to die for.

* At least the Cubs' offensive performance prevents me from complaining about their inability to get a runner in from third base with under two outs. I am also having a difficult time complaining about the bullpen. I can, however, pretend I am a fan of Chief Wahoo and complain about the newest Indians' closer. In case you are not aware, Tribe fans have been on quite a roller coaster ride the last couple of days, compliments of Iowa's favorite former tourist attraction, Kerry Wood. Two nights ago, Wood gave up four runs in the bottom of the ninth in a 6-5 Indians' loss, while, last night, Wood walked the bases loaded before striking out the last two Royals' hitters to perserve a 6-5 Indians' victory. Kerry's escape without giving up a run actually lowered his season ERA to 7.71!! I like Kerry just as much as I like D Lee, but if I really was a Cleveland fan, I would be looking up the phone number of the California State Penitentary to see when Ricky Vaughn's sentence is up. After all, the sunflower seeds and sports drink need guarding at Progressive Jacobs Field as well.

* One of the hottest rumors floating around Major League Baseball is that Jake Peavy will be traded to Chicago after all. Yes, boys and girls, Jake Peavy is now expected to become the newest member of the Chicago WHITE SOX. Wait, are you kidding me? The White Sox???? Why don't you just steal my lunch money, stuff me in a garbage can and roll me home? Why don't you just tell me that Toews and Kane are a figment of my imagination and Zhamnov and Daze are still on the Hawks' top line. Why don't you tell me that come September 13, Rex the Wonder Dog is going to be behind center. Can this possibly be true?? Oh sure Peavy is struggling this year, but he hit .265 in '08. To heck with pitching. The Cubs need him to play the infield.

Gotta go... I'm going to see if I can convince Tony LaRussa to start Todd Wellemeyer tonight...

Detroit Suck City

Look, I am not going to pretend that I am not disappointed in last night's outcome. Frankly, I had no idea what to expect going into the game and figured that it could go either way, especially given that our local heroes were playing in front of a largely hostile crowd. Given the rivalry, you knew that both teams were going to come out with a tremendous amount of intensity and would lay it all on the line. And you had to figure that with Chicago's offense, giving up only three would give the team a decent chance to win. But ultimately, the team could not solve the riddle that is Joel Pineiro and went down to defeat.

What the?

* In case you missed the Cubs game (and I have no idea why you would have watched it), they lost. Nothing more to see here. Please disperse.

* Boy, it sure is a good thing that the Blackhawks are not playing the Ducks. I, mean, otherwise this team would likely be down two games to... uh... oh, nevermind.

* What disappoints me most about the Blackhawks 3-2 loss was the manner in which two of the Wings' goals were scored. The power play goal I can understand, but the other two, were the result of absolutely brutal turnovers at the Hawks' blue line. First, Brent Seabrook's body was inhabited by the ghost of Michal Sykora and then Brian Campbell magically turned into Eric Weinrich. You simply cannot make such mistakes when playing a team as talented as Detroit. Teddy KGB said it best... "baaaad judgement."

* Just for the record, the Hawks claim that Campbell actually made the correct play and that all credit goes to Michael Samuelsson for making a tremendous defensive play. Oh sure, and the Bulls' intentional plan at the end of games is to have Ben Gordon take a crazy off-balance shot that has about as much chance of going in as Kevin James has of winning an Oscar for his performance in Paul Blart: Mail Cop. Oh, you mean, that really is Vinnie's plan?

* Overall, I thought the Hawks outplayed the Wings and, to be honest with you, I really did not think that it was not even that close. Unfortunately, Osgood was the difference, making numerous tremendous saves. Khabibulin was outstanding as well, but, at the end of the day, Osgood was better. Some might even say he stood on his head. By the way, does anyone have any clue what that means? Does that mean that newly crowned Dancing With the Stars Champion Shawn Johnson (personally, I prefer Nastia) or the dude from American Anthem should be the Hawks' next goaltender? Maybe Alfonso Soriano and his teammates stood on their heads last night too. Yeah, that would explain how Pineiro turned into Bob Gibson.

* I thought the officials had a tough game. The linemen missed a lot of offsides calls and, in my opinion, a number of the penalties were extremely questionable, especially the calls on Byfuglien for goalie interference and on Toews for tripping. Most troublesome was the late hook called on Dave Bolland, which occured immediately after Andrew Ladd was clearly tripped on the other end of the floor. I am not for a second suggesting that the officials had any effect on the outcome of the game, but the late call on Bolland was really too bad given that the Hawks had all of the momemtum after Toews scored the equalizer -- momentum which disappeared quicker than Allen Iverson when he hears a police siren.

* Wings' defenseman Chris Chelios ate nachos and watched the game from the press box as one of the Wings' player scratches. Most interesting is the boxscore. Check it out: "Detroit Scratches: Downey (healthy), Maltby (healthy), McCarty (alcoholism), Chelios (osteoporosis)." And he missed both the early bird at the Golden Corral and a Golden Girls marathon on Lifetime.

* So, is the series over? Fortunately, the answer is no. Yes, it is going to be extremely difficult to win four out of five games against the defending champions, but you simply never know what will happen. In a postgame interview, Kris Versteeg said it best when he summed up game two by saying "this sucks," but I doubt that this team will get down. I predicted the Wings would win before the series started and I am going to stick with my original prediction. Believe it or not, the ultimate pessimist still thinks the Hawks come back stong and make it a real series. Wings in seven...

Perhaps He Was Hanging Out With Good Luck Chuck...

Lady Luck certainly was quite busy on Sunday. First, she worked her magic in the Mid-Atlantic "No Longer Quite Good Enough" League, causing Virginia Wolf leftfielder Brant Brown to drop a routine fly ball and, thereby, allowing Hampton Clams centerfielder Einstein Jones to avoid being doubled off second base for a seventh straight game. Next, she headed across the pond and left a strategically placed ten-pence coin in the gutter, allowing Charlie Bucket to buy a second Scrumdiddlyumptious bar. Finally, she headed to good ol' Chicagoland, where she inspired "PFarro" to return "Naughty Nurses 62" to the local video store, allowing Erdman to finally complete the series. Yes, readers of the RT, luck was certainly smiling on Jacque, Charlie and Todd on Sunday!

But no one, and I mean no one, should feel luckier than Blackhawks winger Adam Burish, who, despite the Hawks' 5-2 loss of the Red Wings in the first game of the Western Conference Finals, has got to be thanking his lucky stars. Due to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation Walk and my promise to take theson and thedaughter to the aquarium, I did not actually see the game and was told that it was not worth my time to watch it on the DVR. Well, I did catch the highlights and, while Seabrook's turnovers, Dan Cleary's transformation into the 1995 version of Paul Kariya and The Bulin Wall's imitation of Steve Passmore were scary, what happened to Burish in the second period was downright frightening. I do not know whether he had his lucky rabbit's foot, borrowed Kosuke's lucky Hello Kitty doll or found Jeremy Roenick's long-lost lucky little black book, but Mr. Burish certainly is one fortunate individual. After watching the replay, I immediately wondered whether he drank a bottle of Felix Felicis before the game or if he is planning on giving a Lou Gerigh "Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth" speech before game two.

I warn you, this is not for the squeamish...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFVQ2EHjuPo&feature=related.

And, if you want to see what the possibilities were, go ahead and visit (although, once again, I warn you...it is gory)...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPVgvtPIzfc&NR=1

Believe it or not, Burish did not miss a shift! So, the next time Dusty Dvoracek whines that he has a boo boo and needs a Little Einsteins bandaid, let's remind him of what an real injury looks like.

* By the way, Ryan and Kaylee enjoyed the aquarium. I, for one, look forward to the day when they are disappointed that daddy promised them that they would see "Sharks and Dolphins," yet Joe Thornton and Ronnie Brown were nowhere in sight...

* Finally, I love status updates on Facebook and, every now and then, they bring a smile to my face. For example, last Friday, Random Thoughts occasion commenter, "Peyton's Girl" noted that she has "gotta get ready for a full day of hanging with the twins." Well, my first response, was, "Hmmm...I did not know that Kate was going to spend a day with Justin Morneau, Joe Mauer and the ghost of Kirby Puckett," while my second response was "Kate is going to spend the day with the chicks from the Coors Light commercials!!!" Kate!!! Details! We want details!!!

Go Hawks!

No, But He Did Once Face "The Black Widow," Jeanette Lee in Pool!

Let me start off by saying that the story I am about to tell is essentially hearsay. In other words, I did not actually hear the exchange, but was told about it by new Random Thoughts reader and commenter "Jon" (you really need a better moniker, my friend). Let me also say that I like Ron Santo. Oh sure, I get as frustrated as anyone with his factual mistakes and the fact that his short term memory rivals that of Dory the Fish in Finding Nemo ("What did Fukudome do in his at bat again, Pat?" "He got hit in the head, charged the mound and threw his good luck Hello Kitty doll at the pitcher, Ron") , but, it is awfully difficult to argue with his passion and love for the Cubs. The best part about listening to Ronnie is that you just never know when you are going to hear an absolute classic line...

And, if what Jon says is accurate, listeners were treated with a doozy on Thursday during the radio team's interview with 7th inning guest conductor Jerry Azumah. Azumah, who you will recall, spent seven seasons with the Bears and whose kick return talents lead to a trip to Hawai'i following the 2003-04 season, was introduced as "Pro Bowler Jerry Azumah." Always curious, Ron asked "So, did you ever bowl a 300 game?"

Oh, brother. Looks like Pat better force Ron to do his homework.

I mean, can you imagine an interview with "Former Pirate" Omar Moreno? "So Omar, did Captain Jack Sparrow ever make you walk the plank?"

Or how about a conversation with "Jazz Great" Karl Malone? "I was wondering Karl, did you ever have a chance to play with Louis Armstrong or Kenny G?"

Perhaps a one-on-one with "The Recent Winner of the Biggest Loser Competition?" "My, you really do look quite different Mr. Prior."

* Because I know you are dying to know... although technically listed as a member of the Padres' organization, Prior is currently not on the 40-man roster, nor the roster of any of the team's minor league affiliates. That old fallopian tube inflammation must be acting up again...

How Do the Cubs Spell Relief? T-H-R-O-W-U-P

I think the Cubs have to feel very fortunate to sit six games over .500 with all the injuries they have suffered so far this season. After all, this is a team that has had to deal with Soto's shoulder, Marmol's knee, Big Z's hamstring, and Aramis' shoulder, not to mention the strange illnesses that have affected the team, including Aaron Heilman's basesonballsitis, Neal Cotts' suckocondria and D. Lee's bout with "When In the Heck Did I Become Rey Sanchez" Disease. Frankly, an awful lot has gone wrong and the team really ought to be pleased to only be one-half game out of first place. A couple of quick notes from the first six weeks of the season...

* After mentioning the unfortunate afflictions that have affected Heilman and Cotts, need I really say more about the bullpen and its struggles? I suppose so seeing that I neglected to mention Jeff Samardzija's case of the IfonlyIhadstuckwithfootballIcouldhavebeenthe nextEdMcCaffrey butinsteadIhavebecomeDaveVeres flu. I refuse to believe the rumor, however, that, after walking three of the first six batters he faced this season (and giving up hits to two of the other three), the Cubs sent Chad Fox down to the Distrito Federal for a crate of tacos in hope that he would make the acquaintance of H1N1. I had hoped we would never return to the days of Karchner, Heredia and Farnsworth (the drunk, passed-out-on-the-floor version, that is), but, viola, here we are. David Weathers anyone?

* By the way, wasn't H1N1 the droid that the Jawas originally sold to Luke and Uncle Owen? You know, the one that immediately blew up after Luke bought him forcing poor R2D2 to suffer through another six years of C3PO's incessant whining?

* To their credit, Angel Guzman and Kevin Gregg appear to be improving and possibly growing into dependable options. And Carlos Marmol is, well, Carlos Marmol. You know... ball one... ball two... ball three... ball six... ball ten... ball twelve... strike one... strike two... strike four... strike nine... wipe off sweat... return heart beat to normal rate... curse Marmol for shortening my life. Forget the miniature "W" flags and the Jose Ascaino bobble heads and save your money for the limited edition Marmol line of defibulators.

* The good news is that I have a solution to the Cubs' bullpen woes. A solution made possible by the fortunate reality that Andy McPhail has yet to focus all his attention on the proper way to tie a sweater around one's neck and is still hanging around the Inner Harbor with Tracy Turnblad. You see, McPhail collects crappy African-American Cubs centerfielders like Pacman Jones collects indictments and Waylon Smithers collects Malibu Stacy dolls. First Corey Patterson, then Felix Pee-Ay and now Joey Gathright? So here's the plan... somebody goes down to the Arby's on 79th street and gets Lance Johnson away from the beef slicer. Somebody else stops by Papa Hal's Tavern where Brian McRae is the one slopping Old Style down his front. I figure a "One Dog" and a "B Mac" have got to be worth at least Orioles' relievers Danys Baez (2.37 ERA) and George Sherrill (3.67), right? Problem solved.

* By the way, has anyone noticed that Michael Wuertz has a 1.65 ERA and has only walked two batters in almost nineteen innings of work and LaTroy Hawkins has a 2.35 ERA? Depressing? Well, if it makes you feel any better, not all ex-Cub relievers are enjoying success with their new teams. Howry and Eyre both have five-plus ERAs and Mel Rojas just got fired from a Santo Domingo grocery store for stealing mangos, selling counterfeit autographed Juan Cruz photos and stealing Manny Ramirez's bottle of Levitra.

* There are a number of things in baseball that I strongly dislike. For example, I hate walks. I wish Bobby Jenks would mistake Ryan Braun's eyeballs for a couple of custard pies, thereby ending the career of the Brewers' pompous young star. I would like to suggest that A.J. Pierzynski accompany Chad Fox when the latter is sent back for extra guacamole. But there is nothing I hate more than when teams fail to get a runner in from third base with under two outs, which makes this year's Cubs' team even more difficult to watch than normal.

To be honest, despite Reed Johnson's two-run double in yesterday's 11-3 victory over the Padres, I have to say that in my 37 years of baseball watching, I do not believe that I have ever seen a team that is worse at getting the job done that this year's Cubs. How bad is it? Well, let's just say that after Kosuke lead off an inning with a triple Tuesday night, I immediately turned to thewife and set the probability that he would score at 50/50. And, after D. Lee and Parker Brothers struck out (and Mike Fontenot lined out), it turned out that I was being overly optimistic.

It is so bad that I now find myself hoping for a bases loaded walk, a passed ball or catcher's interference when the Cubs find themselves in such a situation (and wasn't it nice of Pudge Rodriguez and the Padres' pitching staff to oblige? Heck, after watching the Padres' hurlers walk batter after batter yesterday, I started to wonder when they had traded for Rich Hill). So bad that you have to figure that it is mental at this point. So bad, in fact, that the next time the Cubs get a runner on third with under two outs, I recommend he turn around and steal second. Have an easy triple? Why waste all that energy trying to run 270 feet when you can stop at second? We'll call it the Alfonso Soriano plan.

* Young Lucas Bly wanted to win the heart of Maggie. Realizing that it was going to take more than being the foremost expert on cicadas to win Maggie from Charlie Sheen (perhaps photos of him with half of the hookers in Hollywood would have done the trick?), Lucas decided to join the football team. Alas, poor Lucas ended up being tended to by Dr. Mark Greene at County General after being annihilated while trying to catch a pass. The moral of the story? That, unfortuately, not all cinderella stories end with a big happily ever after.

Which is why you have to feel so good for Cubs 31-year old "rookie" Bobby Scales who is tearing the cover off the ball. How good has Scales been since he was brought up to the "show?" Consider this...not only is Scales 8-18 with a slugging percentage that is 200 points higher than Albert Pujols', but in only 18 at bats, he has one fewer extra base hit than Parker Brothers (72 AB) and one more than Geovany Soto! (85 AB).

* Finally, as most of you know, I am a big Harry Potter fan and, in the past, have encouraged readers of the RT to read the series to ensure that they never miss a witty reference to J.K. Rowling's wizarding world. Well, put "The Goblet of Fire" down and prepare to continue working on your sofa ass groove. Go straight to the video store, fight the urge to rent "Me and My Beard: The Paul Assenmacher story" or "I Can't Find Winter Gloves That Fit For Gosh Sakes: The Life and Times of El Pulpo" and spend a weekend catching up with the truly sensational Fox series "House" (you are, of course, allowed to take a twenty minute break to watch an episode of "Pants Off, Dance Off" -- go ahead look it up). Yesterday, marked the very first House reference in the history of the Random Thoughts and I can promise you there are more to come. And I do not want to hear any excuses. I mean, even if you hate gimpy doctors that are addicted to Vicodin and even if you like medical dramas that are brilliantly written and wonderfully produced about at much as I like seeing Heilman or Cotts coming in from the bullpen, House is still worth your time. After all, where else on the small screen can you see Dr. Remy "Thirteen" Hadley who was recently ranked #1 on Maxim's Hot 100 list. Random Thoughts Hottie #13? Oh yeah...

Have great weekend. Hate to say it, but I am going Red Wings in seven and setting the over/ under on the number of walks given up by Heilman this weekend at six.

Doot doo doo doo, Doot doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, Doot doo doo doo. Doot doo doo...

"Here Come the Hawks, the mighty Blackhawks..
Take the attack, yeah, and we'll back you Blackhawks.
You're flyin' high now, so let's wrap it up.
Let's go you Hawks, move off.
Now all look out...
Here Come the Hawks"

Wow, that sure feels good!

As a former season-"reservation" holder of the team formerly known as "Tony Amonte, and uh, Vladmir Whatshisnameov and uh that guy," I could not be more excited about the success of the Blackhawks. After all, not everyone can say that they experienced the Ryan VandenBussche/ Cam Russell years and actually lived to tell about it. Yes, that was thewife and I way up in section 333 cheering every goal long before anyone knew who in the hell The Fratellis were (and let me tell you, the new song they play when the Hawks score sure beats the songs they used to use back in the late 90's when every Kyle Calder goal was celebrated with a spin of Phil Collins' "Against All Odds" or Barry Manilow's "It's a Miracle"). Hell, we had season tickets back when the only reason to go to the game was to eat CherryHeads and hope that Jocelyn Thibault's wife was wearing her leather pants. Back when the marketing slogan at the beginning of the season was "Tradition, Pride, Honor, Colors" (no, I am not making this up), but by the end of the season was "Hey, At Least The Chick Who Shot the Puck Between Periods Was Hot."

It is absolutely amazing what a difference the death of one old, drunk windbag can have on the fortunes of a franchise. After all, keep in mind that three or four short years ago, the Blackhawks were the NHL's answer to the Los Angeles Clippers, the Detroit Lions and the winless Rydell High School Rangers. In fact, I think Darius Miles, Eric Hipple and Kenickie may have even had a short stint on the team's third line late in 2003.

But don't look now...there are actual fans in the Realistically Could Go Out of Business At Any Time Airline Center. Whereas in the last ten years, the only persons who actually went to a Hawks game were Theo Fleury's sponsor, Bob Probert's parole office, Eric Daze's OB-GYN and the Ligue family (look...attack a third base coach and you have to be punished, right? Just look at the guy... Can't you see him yelling "What do you mean I have to watch Boris Mironov and Igor Korolev?!?"), now it is all the rage to be seen at the UC, I mean the RCGOOBAATAC. In fact, walk downtown these days and you are just as likely to be greeted with a "Let's Go Hawks" as you are with a "Please tell me again why the Cubs felt the need to trade Mark DeRosa for a Chief Wahoo Bobble Head, Jake Taylor's leftover knee cartilage and Jobu."

And, not only are there real fans in the building, but you can actually watch the home games on TV!!! Get a bag of Puffy Cheetos and a High Life and get ready for the soothing voice of Pat Foley. That's right... it is finally safe to turn back on the TV. No longer are you stuck choosing between "Dancing With the Stars," "So You Think You Can Dance," "The Dancing Apprentice," "Dance Survivor: Ivory Coast," and "Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo." Time to dedicate yourself to creating a good ol' fashioned ass groove in the sofa. There is finally something worth watching.

By the way, with today's television lineup, does anyone else wonder if John Lithgow's character in Footloose has lost his mind and is now rooming with Dr. Gregory House at the Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital? Heck, 90% of the shows on TV have something to do with dancing! And to think that the best of the bunch, Fuse TV's "Pants Off, Dance Off," is no longer on the air!!!

(I have told you before, people, I do not make this stuff up!)

The bottom line is that this is a team that five years ago was about as popular as Sarah Palin at a Planned Parenthood rally and the turnaround has been amazing. Teams just don't go from page 74C (right next to the story about how Mr. T still refuses to trim his bushes) to the front page. The Hawks are relevant again and I, for one, could not be more excited.

* Now, if we could just do something about DePaul.

* So the Hawks now march on to the Western Conference Finals. The only question that remains is who they are going to be matched up against with the Red Wings and the Ducks set to face off in Game 7 this evening. With the outcome of the series still in doubt, it seems as though everyone is being asked who they would rather see the Blackhawks play and the most popular answer is... Detroit. Excuse me? Do we need to move another bed into House and the Reverend Shaw Moore's padded room?

Let me ask baseball fans a question... if the (insert name of favorite team here), were playing the Mets in a game seven, would you rather see Johan Santana on the mound or learn that Steve Trachsel's boss at Wal-Mart has given the big oaf the day off, allowing him to toe the rubber? And if you team was up one run with the bases loaded and two outs in the ninth, would you rather see Albert Pujols stroll to the plate or discover that Thing Two (that's Neifi Perez for those of you new to the RT) has come out of retirement and joined the Red Birds? Duh...

Let me switch sports on you to further prove my point. Every March, I shake my head when fans of small NCAA conference champions hold up signs that say "We Want Duke," or "We Want UCLA." Ummm...no you don't. I mean, you really don't. Let's be honest here. You're Radford. What you want is Quinnipiac.

So, can someone please explain to me why Hawks' fans would honestly rather play the Red Wings? There is a reason they are the defending Stanley Cup champions and the #2 seed and a reason Anaheim squeaked into the playoffs as the #8 seed. Play Anaheim and the Hawks have home ice. Play Anaheim and you do not have to face Datsuyk and Zetterberg and Lidstrom and Hossa. Play Anaheim and you do not have to play the most potent offense in hockey. Play Anaheim and you are playing Anaheim. I believe Daffy Duck hit the nail on the head when he asked "What type of a Mickey Mouse organization names their team the Ducks?"

So, unless a series with Detroit comes with an autographed picture of Axel Foley, I say quack, quack.

* Okay, so let me try and answer the question that I am sure many of you are asking...is the Random Thoughts back? And the answer is, well, sort of. What I would like to do is reinvent the RT so it consists mainly of short "snippets." Longtime fans "thewife" and "OrangeWhip" have encouraged me to get back to writing, but both agree that the posts had gotten entirely too long. That said, I would like to keep the entries fairly short (if fact, I see today's post as way looooong compared to what I would like it to be). Oh sure, there will be days when I get a little long winded, but, more often than not, the posts will consist of a number of small paragraphs (which should give you plenty of time to figure out the correct spelling of Byfuglien). The bottom line is that I have always enjoyed writing the RT and have been lead to believe that you all enjoy reading it, so let's give it a go. All that I ask is that you all participate and comment. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to think that you do not care and will likely make like Barry Sanders and Sandy Koufax and call it a career.

* Finally, as long time readers know, there has never been a bigger fan of the RT than WrigleyBill, who lived with Cystic Fibrosis and passed away 2 1/2 years ago. Well, this weekend, thedaughter, theson and I will be joining Bill's wife Lori on the annual CF "Great Strides" walk. Anyone interested in learning more about the disease that took the life of a great friend much too early, should visit www.cff.org. You can even click on the link for "Great Strides," search for my name and join the fight...

* Bill is also likely responsible for the single best one-liner in the history of the RT, when, shortly after Katrina visited the Crescent City, he commented "That would be as foolish as asking the Scorpions to play the 'Welcome Back to New Orleans' concert and the Superdome and having them open with 'Rock You Like a Hurricane." Brilliant.

T-Shirts! Get Your 2014 World Series Championship T-Shirts!

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!!!