Third Party is Not a Charm

At first glance the timing seems ripe for the long-anticipated, never realized of a legitimate third party. One would think there are votes out there for a pragmatic, middle of the road solution based party in the “Independent” space that exists between the Democrats and Republicans. If this 99% movement has any legs you could probably squeeze out some permanent space on the left with the Green Party. And the mid-terms showed the “tea party” seemed to carve out a spot that isn’t accurately described as far right, it’s more of a Bizzaro Obama. So why aren’t we talking about a potential third party option in 2012?

History is not kind to third parties in America. Save for a Teddy Roosevelt led progressive party and Ross Perot’s efforts to boost Dana Carvey’s profile there hasn’t been a third party candidate that cracked 10% of the popular vote in a Presidential election since the Civil War despite history being filled with instances of the American public being fed up with both parties. Why is that?

Since its never fun talking about the pragmatics in the middle and we don’t know much about the urban hipsters on the left yet, let’s talk about [insert “nuts” or “patriots” here depending on your political leanings] in the tea party. One example can be gleaned from the Know Nothing Party of the 1850s. And before my tea party friends* get all up in arms about equating their ilk to a party that seems at first glance to bask proudly in its own ignorance let me make two points.

1.  Read on before filling the comments section with poorly spelled and grammatically incorrect rants… save those for anyone who fails to acknowledge Cardinal fans as the self-proclaimed best fans in professional sports.
2. I am well aware that many tea party members are highly intelligent and reasonable folks well versed on topics ranging from NASCAR to Michelle Bachman’s version of American History to deep frying sugary snacks.

 * When I say “tea party friends” I mean it in the sense that a conservative Republican refers to their gay friends in a debate. In other words I can mention them anonymously at an attempt to justify a closed mind but I haven’t actually met them myself.

The Know-Nothings are one of a host third parties over the past 150 years that rose based on the strength of one central issue – which is almost always related to an economic slowdown – or blatant racism under the guise of nationalism (see Thurmond, Strom). And the The Know Nothings weren’t named derisively, when you asked a member about party activities they were to reply “I Know Nothing”, the term became somewhat of a slur only after GOP standard-bearer and original Fan-o-Palin Bill Kristol used it as such in an editorial. If you want to Google the two columns I am referring to you’ll get a nice little slice of irony – one introduces the world to a certain Alaskan governor and the other is where the “Republican Establishment” starts to turn against the Tea Party. It’s all you though because there is no way I’m spending more than 15 seconds scanning the Bill Kristol archives, if you can handle it you’re a stronger person than I.

The Know-Nothings were founded on the premise that there were too many Germans and Irish streaming into the country and taking the jobs of the “Native Born Americans” – which you probably already translated to not include actual Native Americans. There are two lessons here. One, sometimes history repeats itself; with immigration, it repeats itself at every 25-50 years. Two, if you want to see how easy it is to eliminate immigration between economic disparate two areas can be head out to your local St. Patrick’s Day Parade next year.

The party actually succeeded in putting people in high profile elected offices in the 1850s and grabbed 23% of the Presidential vote in 1856, but was largely extinct by 1860. It’s a refrain that has been repeated like clockwork – party rises, makes waves in one or two presidential elections and fades away only to torment high school students during history quizzes. So the question remains why no viable third party has been able to every make “the leap” in 150 years?

We’re 1,000 words deep at this point and I haven’t made one sports analogy here you go. It’s like going from 7 or 9 wins to 10+ in the NFL. You can get to nine wins with solid coaching, good health and a bit of luck… just look at the last 10 years of Bears’ football. But consistently getting to 10+ wins a year is extremely hard and doesn’t come easy – for starters you need a GM that can hit on 10% of his first round picks.

Make no mistake about it, just getting a movement to a point where it can get 5% of the vote requires a great deal of skill, timing and luck. Consider the circumstance surrounding the “rise” of the tea party:

• 10 years of rising debt 
•  Global economic contraction and high domestic unemployment 
•  Growing gap between the haves and have-nots 
•  Inability of the Democrats or Republicans to present a solution together, or independently 
• Simmering immigration issue that allows for a nationalistic/populist bent to the central message 
• Surplus of tri-point hats

When the ability to capitalize upon that set of simultaneous circumstances is the easy part you know the next step is like cracking a 4 minute mile. Right now the tea party could run some sort of Perry/Bachmann ticket in a Romeny v. Obama election and grab 10% of the vote and possibly even a southern state or two regardless on your position on giving a rip about Alabama. But to make that leap, you’ve got to start putting together an all-encompassing platform… preferably a coherent one. And that’s where the fun begins.

Getting 5% of the room to agree on one topic is easy, but every time you add a topic it gets a bit harder. And then there’s the human leadership element. The skills to ignite the electorate and craft a vision to develop a long-term political growth plan are often mutually exclusives. And even if you come into both skills, you’re going to need a leader young enough, patient enough and a succession plan strong enough to make this happen over 20 years. Plus that leader was probably already snatched up by a hedge fund because he wanted to make $5 million before his 25^th birthday rather than logging the same number of hours building a grassroots organization while working at Best Buy weekends to make ends meet.

Do you see that person amongst the tea party leadership? I’m certainly not a subscriber to their newsletter in a manner of speaking but even my most generous assessment of the current crop of tea party politicians doesn’t see a force to be reckoned with amongst this cast… I don’t even see a Eugene Debbs here.

You can’t help but think that the moment of truth is approaching where voters are no longer just swayed by the deficit as their one issue. Will the tea party buck the trend and prove that the establishment line of thought is the one that knows nothing. Or will there be a high school kid in 2050 trying to remember the difference between the Free Soil Party and the Tea Party for a high school quiz?

The Cubs Experience

By the standards of Cub bandwagondom I’m a relative neophyte. I didn’t fully embrace the bear until I moved to the windy city in the fall of 2002.

I was raised being put to bed to the sounds of Jack Buck calling Cardinal games on the radio – and, being 3-7 years old, mistook Jack’s habit of referring to Ozzie Smith simply as Ozzie lead me to believe one of my favorite Muppet, Fozzie Bear, was playing shortstop. You can imagine my horror when my dad took me to my first Cardinal game and the greatest defensive shortstop of our lifetime and a first-ballot Hall of Famer was playing short instead of a Muppet wearing a neckerchief.

After that disappointment, my father’s friend with the Royals arranged to plant me formally on the late 1980s Royals bandwagon. And these weren’t your current Royals. George Brett, Brett Sabrehagen, Bo Jackson and host of talented players kept these guys competitive through the early 1990s. But then the Royals turned south… and the strike of 1994 led me to abandon baseball for the better part of the next 10 years.

When I moved to Wrigleyville in the fall of 2002 I couldn’t help but get swept up in the Cubs. The team was relatively young, and had a pitching staff that was touted as the next version of the 1990 Braves staffs… but ended up more like the over-hyped 1990s Mets staff.

Yes it’s the bars. Yes it’s the bleachers. Yes it’s the characters. But it’s also a connection to the past. The organ, the manual scoreboard, the grass* and a stadium in the middle of the city. It’s a connection to our past, our youth and a time when things didn’t seem as complicated (in hindsight).

*For those of you born in the 1980s this is a bigger deal than you think. I was raised on the cookie cutter stadiums of Busch, Three Rivers, Riverfront and nameless other major league parks that were exactly the same as each other. And if you think the new Field Turf is bad, go to your nearest mini-golf course and imagine playing baseball on that stuff. That’s baseball in the 1980s.

I could spend 10,000 words explaining the 10 years of frustration I’ve felt as a Cubs fan. Baker running pitchers into the ground. A team so mentally weak that they attempt to blame a five run collapse on a fan reaching for a foul ball that even a young Mo Alou might not have caught. A free agent spending spree that led the Cubs to outbid themselves and saddle the team with horrible back loaded contracts* that may even outlive the Obama administration.

* Guess who is getting a raise in 2011. If you said Fukudome, Smardzjia and Grabow you win. Double points if you said that Grabow’s contract almost doubles in value.

So it’s nice when an article comes along that sums it up for me. About a month ago the Tribune Cubs beat writer Paul Sullivan turned in a typical piece – slightly irreverent with a dose of cynicism bubbling just beneath the surface. But this wasn’t an article on Derrick Lee’s slowing bat or Zambrano’s latest tantrum, it was about a series of off-the-field decisions that all happened to come down in one epic week in June. The article is about art and music. But art and music as defined by the Cubs organization.

On the art side, the Cubs installed a 12 foot statue of a Mac ‘n Cheese noodle at the behest, err check writing, of Kraft. But it’s best to let Cubs’ Marketing EVP Wally Hayward* explain.

"Hayward is hoping the Noodle can become Wrigleyville's version of 'the Bean,' the Millennium Park sculpture that has become an iconic part of Chicago. "We were generating nothing, and found a creative way to introduce it, and it's a great way for Kraft to create buzz," Hayward said."

* May or may not be related to Tony Hayward. But given this asinine explanation I’m inclined to lean towards a blood relation.
OK, if you want to expand revenue and put advertisements outside the stadium fine. But don’t turn around and refer to your revenue stream as “art.” I am not what you call an art connoisseur; if you were to come up with a way to measure art appreciation in the same way they measure reading levels, you could say that I appreciate art at a 4th grade level. Sure, I can look at Michelangelo’s David and understand its absolute excellence, but I still think appreciation for Picasso is largely based on taking LSD and listening to the Allman Brothers. And when I look at the friggin’ noodle I see advertising… not art. The Bean is art. That Eye on Van Buren and State is creepy art. The noodle is a revenue stream... and a poorly conceived one as that.

This is the rub of being a Cubs fan. The Chicago Cubs have found innovative ways to squeeze more revenue out of the team. They have an agreement with the rooftops… they’ve expanded in stadium advertising… they started their own scalper agency… they do cruises and Spring Training trips. They are truly innovative to the point that I wonder if they are going to start charging season ticket holders for not showing up. But for all that innovation they still fail to see the value of on-base percentage versus batting average

So what on-the-field changes does a thoroughly mediocre Cubs team try to make? A commitment to players under the age of 35? Working counts for walks? Throwing strikes? How about letting players come out to recorded music instead of the organ? You guessed it; the problem with the Cubs all these years is the friggin’ organ. You have to admit, it does make sense… if you can’t tell the difference between correlation and causation. The only two things that have been there for 101 years are the organ and the scoreboard. And you don’t save money by tearing down a scoreboard, but you do save money by making your organist go part-time.

"The ads aren't the only changes. The Cubs have also stopped playing organ music to introduce their players when they come to the plate. Now they have taped music, like most other ballparks. Koyie Hill, for instance was introduced with his choice of Led Zeppelin's "Black Dog" on Tuesday."

"The Cubs marketing department picked Alfonso Soriano's tune. "That motivates people when they go to home plate," Soriano said. "I'll wait to pick the perfect song, and I'll be excited when I go to the plate."
That’s the other thing. When your $136m underachieving left fielder needs music to get motivated you need to vastly overhaul your major league scouting function. But if you’re a member of the Cubs organization this probably just means you need to update your iPod playlist.

But I’m beyond giving up on asking for miracles like competence from a $136m player, drafting quality prospects or stop spending money on 35 year old players. At this point I’ll just settle for the Cubs to spring for a new sound system. Because if you think watching Soriano strikeout swinging to the musical stylings of C&C Music factory is bad, trying that same experience when the Cubs are using a 1948 sound system.

Jersey Watch

Years ago I wrote a column for The Heckler on selecting the right jersey for the Cubs fans of 2004 to invest in. And while the logic was sound, the final decision wasn’t – I recommended Todd Walker*. So in order to provide a bit of community service to those Blackhawk bandwagon jumpers, I give you an updated version of my rules for purchasing a jersey.


* Two items in my defense aside from the rules I’ll outline below. I would have recommended a Ryan Dempster jersey purchase if not for the fact he identified Rush as his favorite band in an interview with Dan Patrick… there’s no way you can wear his jersey after that statement. Secondly, try and pick out a jersey from the 2004 Cubs that looks like a smart decision six years later. (That statement also works when discussing the Jim Hendry era.”)

Age is More than Just a Number
The saddest thing you'll ever see in a ballpark is a 55 year old man wearing the jersey of a 20 year old kid (obviously exception if that is your kid or nephew). Correction it's the fourth saddest thing you'll see:

4. Old man wearing a player's jersey that is half his age
3. Man trampling a kid to get to a foul ball
2. Man bringing a glove to a major league baseball game
1. Man bringing a glove to a major league baseball game and then failing to make the catch

Buying a jersey is essentially a form of hero worship. That’s why I’m a big advocate of never buying a jersey of a player younger than you. It’s also unintended consequence of steroid testing – at the age of 33 it’s almost impossible for me to buy a jersey of a current player. 10 years ago 33 year olds were adding 25 pounds of muscle, getting faster and just entering their prime. Now they’re losing their fast twitch muscles and struggling with nagging injuries… just like me! For illustrative purposes here’s a list of current Chicago players that are older than I am:

Cubs: Bob Howry, Ted Lilly, Derrick Lee, Alfonso Soriano, Ryan Dempster
Sox: Ramon Castro, Paul Konerko, Omar Vizquel
Blackhawks: John Madden, Cristobal Huet (pronounced “Who-Eh?”)
Bulls: N/A (see below)
Bears: Desmond Clark, Patrick Mannley, Brad Maynard

To quote Major League, “I haven’t heard of half these guys, and the ones I have heard of are way past their prime.” That list sums up why throwback jerseys have evolved into a multi-million dollar industry.

Avoid the Bandwagon
Next time you attend a live sporting event take a look around at the jerseys in the stands. You’re likely to see that 90% of the jerseys are of two or three players – at Hawks games you’ll largely see three jerseys, Toews, Kane and Hossa. Picking one of these jerseys makes you look like even more of a bandwagon fan… that and asking what icing means.

The Raider Effect
Did you ever have that friend in high school that complained about always getting unfairly pulled over by the cops? Did that friend also have a marijuana leaf air freshener dangling from his rear view mirror? Certain jerseys will lead to certain reactions. The cops will pay more attention to you in a Raiders or White Sox jersey. People will take pity on you if you wear any jersey from the city of Cleveland. You’ll be labeled a fair weather fan if you’re wearing an Atlanta jersey. Consider the jersey association before purchasing.

With the First Pick in the MLB Draft, the Chicago Cubs Select…
There’s a few areas of life that require a great deal of caution.

• Eating at a Chinese restaurant that charges by the scoop.
• Hitting on the woman drinking tequila and dancing by herself at 9:00 at night. (Note: This is an evolving situation as you get older. In college guys will trip over themselves getting to this girl’s side with a couple of shots and some bad dance moves, but as you get older this situation typically comes with a case of VD on the side.)
• Buying the jersey of a highly touted prospect that hasn’t proved himself.

Just look at the history of Chicago Cubs prospects over the past 10 years before you invest in that Castro jersey. Prior, Strange, Patterson, Pie… or take a look at the buyer’s remorse being felt on the south side by the Gordon Beckham fans. Let the guy get a few reps before making that 2am purchase on NFL.com.

Know Your Role
This one only applies to football jerseys, but you need to take it into consideration. If you’re 5’8” and weigh 250, don’t kid yourself and buy a skill position jersey. You need to stick to the linemen. Conversely, if you’re 5’5” and 125, you can’t go with a lineman or a running back or linebacker. It’s a lot like painting your chest with your buddies to spell out the name of your team… the fat guy is always the “o” and the skinny guy is always the “i.”

If you’re wondering why this doesn’t apply to basketball jerseys the reason is simple. There is absolutely no possible situation in which a grown man should even wear an NBA jersey.

Screw You Marvin Miller
First off, Marvin Miller not being in the Hall of Fame makes Santo’s exclusion look excusable in comparison. They elected Bowie Kuhn, who Miller owned in 15 years of negotiations. It’s the equivalent of calling Carthage the greatest empire in the history of man despite the fact that Rome won all three Punic Wars.

But he’s also the reason why Cubs fans shouldn’t wear a Maddux Cubs jersey. It essential celebrates the fact that your team was dumb enough to let the greatest pitcher of his generation to walk in his prime. So before you buy that jersey make sure that Scott Boras isn’t the player's agent and your boy won’t spend the next 10 years in pinstripes before going into the Hall as a Yankee.

The Man Behind the Jersey
The short way to explain this is O.J. Simpson. But the long way is more fun.

You need to ask yourself if you’d like to have a beer with the guy. Do you want to have to spend the entire evening explaining to the guy how the napkin dispenser works? Is there a chance that your evening will end with you having to dispose of a handgun? Or will you have to listen to the guy talking about the difference between Christian Rock and Contemporary Christian Rock? If you can’t enjoy a beer with the guy, you shouldn’t wear the jersey. This isn’t to be confused with the “would your wife let you enjoy a beer with the guy” question. If that were the question then Tim Tebow jerseys would be flying off the shelf. Oh wait, they are? That violates every principle of intelligent jersey buying.

So those are the simple rules to follow before throwing down $150 on an article of clothing that can't be worn to anything other than sporting event and your wedding. So either make that investment in your 20s or save up a couple of extra bills for that throwback jersey if you wait until your my age.

Rome Wasn't Built in a Day... But it Could be Toppled in One

The term “rock bottom” is thrown quite a bit, and quite often prematurely. My theory on the overuse of this term is that while the situation may look like it has bottomed out from afar, you often underestimate the incompetence/blind spots of those at the heart of the situation. For example:
• George Lucas decides to write the Star Wars prequels himself… then proceeds to give Jar Jar Binks more lines than Lando Calrissian.
• Jean Van de Velde pulling out the driver on 18 at Carnoustie… then goes for the green with his second shot.
• George Bush puts L. Paul Bremmer in charge of rebuilding and stabilization of Iraq… and then doubles down with Mike Brown at FEMA.
• [Insert life story of any child TV star]

Those are pretty obvious and quick examples, but sometimes these situations sneak up on you 25 years after the fact. In 1985 Starship released We Built this City, an utterly horrible song by an utterly horrible band. In this case, you’d think this was rock bottom for Grace Slick after penning/performing lead vocals on White Rabbit and Somebody to Love.

Fast forward 25 years. Sioux City* finds a new bottom for this song with one of the most ill conceived promotion videos of all time. If you want a quick image think two parts Michael Scott with one part Midwestern hokie. Unfortunately, this video has resulted in We Built this City bouncing around in my head for the past week. And the only way to get a song out of your head is to pass it on. So I give you my review of this video in the hope it will bring me peace and sanity for the first time in a week.

* You may know Sioux City by its nickname, “the only reason anyone should have to look forward to Omaha.”

The Greeters: 0:16
From the looks of it this is the volunteer corps of the Sioux City Tourism Bureau. There are a couple of things that stand out here:
• Pay attention to the scissors. If you have a feeling that is not the last you’ll see of those you’re 100% correct and obviously a connoisseur of hokie, amateur promotional videos.
• The old guy looks less-than-enthused to be there. My guess is that his wife forced him to come despite the fact that his immediate reaction was something along the lines of “they trained me how to kill a man with my bare hands in Korea… and I will kill you if you ask me again.”

Mid-Market News Teams: 0:20
If you’ve ever lived in a mid-sized city such as Sioux City (I grew up close to Peoria) the members of the local network news team are THE regional celebrities. And within these mid-market new teams, there are also two kinds of newscasters:
1) Young bucks that are hoping to take a step up in market size with their next job.
2) The guy whose career topped out in this city 30 years ago who is now the “dean of [city name] newscasters.” This is roughly equivalent to Crash Davis’ minor league home run record.

To all you aspiring newscasters, participating in a video like this is a good way to ensure this is your last step up the media market ladder. Especially when you’re singing style makes you a dead ringer for a Peanuts Cartoon.

Landmark Montage: 0:29
If you have a landmark montage that lasts less than 20 seconds you’re in trouble. If that same montage includes a bike trail and an interstate highway, you’re in Sioux City. And what’s with the mini-Washington Monument? At one point did a city planner think that a family would come to Sioux City instead of DC because of this? Or was this a half hearted attempt to try and compete with Mount Rushmore?

Running in Circles: 1:05
A friend pointed out that the kids running in circles will eventually have to transfer once their involvement of this video leaks out on campus. I’d take it a step further, these girls will have to transfer multiple times and will end up making Sarah Palin’s educational odyssey look stable in comparison.

There Are No Winners: 1:30
Anyone involved in this video will be irrevocably damaged for years to come… unless you’re the guy wearing the mascot outfit, then you have a fighting chance. And for your reference, the mascot’s participation in this video is the one time in the history of man that wearing a mascot uniform enhances your chances of getting laid.

Only Losers: 1:31
Conversely, this is also the one time the line “I’m a fireman” works against you in your quest to get laid.

Radio & Newspaper Talent: 1:48
There’s a very awkward moment in which the choreographer attempts to have a local radio station attempt a video technique that can best be described as a declining totem pole. The timing is about as awkward as John Edwards announcing a President run. This may be the most awkward moment of the most awkward video I’ve ever seen.

Correction, the two newspaper columnists blew the radio guys* out of the water with the hide behind the paper routine. But the good news for these two is that working for a newspaper provides a nice, stable job for the rest of their lives.

* I use the term “guys” loosely. The person on the left may have batted cleanup for the 1997 Iowa Hawkeyes Softball Team.

Respect My Authorita: 2:59
I’m not normally one to advocate for ignoring the law, but if anyone in this video attempts to pull you over I fully endorse your right to lead them on a 6 state car chase.

Mr. Gorbechev… Tear Down that Chimney: 3:17
Did you really need to show the owner’s name of the video of the chimney destruction? Getting a free video of a business collapse is the second easiest type of clip to find on YouTube behind men getting hit in the groin.

This is Why Congress Has Low Approval Ratings: 3:56
Not really, but this is about the only thing they could do to take it any lower.

Always Be Closing: 4:17
And just like the concept of rock bottom, the end of this video manages to dig even further below rock bottom.
• If you’re an EMT and you want your patients to think they’re going to die, this is a good start.
• At this point, if you’re still involved in the video you’re the same type of person that the Milgram Experiment made infamous.
• The dancing cat is the second least enthused participant behind the old guy.
• The scissors are back. What would posses you to bring an oversized pair of wooden scissors to a random parking lot for a photo shoot? Other than a complete lack of self-awareness.
• If Brett Michaels is your closer and it’s not 1986, it’s time to find a new closer.

Of course, maybe this isn’t rock bottom for Sioux City… maybe they’ll be sued for violating the fair use of the song.

Flipping Off The Fickle Finger of Faith

Tiger Town.

Most people don’t know this movie, nor should they. Even the most stout fans of 1980s made-for-TV Disney movies would call it overly cheesy. The only cultural significance of this movie is to illustrate how far Roy Scheider had fallen after Jaws. For me it had an additional personal meaning. It was one of two movies my brother would rent on our weekly trip to the video store growing up – the other being Harry and the Hendersons. And his constant renting of these movies was a thorn in my side for two reasons.

1) We had one TV, meaning that one of two movies that we had already seen 500 times was bound to take over the TV for at least two hours that week.
2) His infatuation with these movies limited my ability to manipulate my two younger brothers’ selections to ensure my choices made it into my Mom’s hands.

The plot of Tiger Town is simple.

Tigers stink.
Kid goes to games with his dad.
Tigers win and aging slugger has great game when they attend.
Dad dies.
Kid becomes obsessed with Tigers games.
Tigers keep winning when he attends.

He’s delayed to the final game of the season and arrives in the ninth inning with the slugger at-bat.
You can guess how it ends… unless you’re my brother. Apparently he needed to regularly remind himself that Roy promptly banged a 2 run home run to win the game as soon as the kid ran into the stadium. And this is despite the fact that Roy had a swing that made Robert Redford’s look like Joe DiMaggio… is it that hard to cast someone who played high school baseball in a made-for-TV movie?

But on Monday night my long-held view of this movie was altered during game 2 of the Blackhawks and Canucks series. The Hawks were down 1-0 in the series at home, it wasn’t a must-win but it was pretty darn close. We walk in a bit late and get to our seats 4 minutes into the game with the Hawks down 2-0. Yikes. My immediate thought was that it was a nice run and the team will be back next year to make another run at the Cup.

As a joke, I mentioned Tiger Town to my friends and how my arrival could turn the game around. Of course, neither of them had any friggin’ clue what I was talking about so I had to walk them through the plot. But 30 seconds into my explanation of the movie the Hawks break through with a goal. Tiger Town mother#*$&er. I remained glued to my seat for the remainder of the game and when the final horn sounded, the Hawks skated away with a 4-2 win.

That’s when the genius of Tiger Town dawned on me. That movie isn’t about the kid, or the Tigers, or even the slow decay of Detroit. It’s a fantasy about having the power to fully control your own destiny. Rationally, we all know that our lucky seat or pre-game meal has no impact on a game in which we are not playing. But I guarantee you notice that your favorite team is 10-0 when you shotgun a Natty Light after the national anthem I bet you’re going to find a can of Natty Light before that first note hits your ear in game 11.

We all want to believe our path is entirely under our control, and it largely is, but sometimes shit happens. A perfectly healthy person gets sick. A war breaks out in someone’s backyard. The Oakland Raiders take you with the 7th pick in the draft. Heck, Malcolm Gladwell wrote an entire book on how there is invariably some immaculate stroke of good luck behind every success story.

That’s the beauty of Tiger Town. There’s no dumb luck. There’s no bad luck. It’s all on us. You don’t have to worry about some schmuck with Tuberculosis trying to impress the boss who ends up sitting next to you on the 9:30 United flight out of O’Hare*.

* Here’s a general rule of thumb for business travel. If you’re sitting in coach, you’re not important enough to fly sick and put everyone’s health at risk.

And it’s a great thing to have that responsibility. There’s no need to curse fate, or wonder what might have been. Everything you achieve is based entirely upon your doing. Unfortunately, we live in a world where randomization is a big part of the equation. Your success largely hinges on your ability to take advantage of the breaks and overcome the roadblocks in your path.

That being said, I couldn’t attend the Hawks’ game 5 loss at home; but don’t worry Hawks fans, I have tickets for game 7.

An Ode to LaRussa

Tony LaRussa’s butchering of the recent 20 inning game against the Mets led me to dust off a classic in homage to a textbook case of over managing. Of course, this version pales in comparison to another the version Dennis Miller did, before he went crazy of course, on Darryl Strawberry.



The outlook wasn't brilliant for the St Louis nine that day*:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Lopez died at first, and Scrappy McShumaker did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the reddened necks at the game.

* Is there ever a day in which the outlook is brilliant in St. Louis? St. Louis is like Baltimore with mosquitoes, humidity and Yosemite Sam mud flaps.


A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
started up the stairs but stopped when their high cholesterol caused that shooting pain which springs eternal in the typical overweight St. Louis breast;
They thought, if only Albert could get but a whack at that -
We'd put up even money, now, with Albert at the bat.


But thanks to 6 double switches by LaRussa*, Ryan preceded Casey, as did also Freese,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was busy getting drunk in the afternoon breeze;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Albert’s getting to the bat.


* I’m beginning to think Dave Duncan has gone from underrated to overrated and now back to underrated. St. Louis’ recent success can be attributed to two things; Pujols and washed up pitchers revitalizing their careers. Carpenter, Suppan, Weaver, Wellemeyer, Pinero, Loshe were all castaways that because solid or spectacular under Duncan. LaRussa’s main accomplishment with St. Louis appears to have been handed the greatest hitter since Ted Williams, turning the other way when finding syringes in the trash, extending the length of each game by about 20 minutes and successfully converting Rick Ainkel from a #1 starter into a 4th outfielder . Well played Tony.


But Ryan let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Freese, the much despised drunk driver, let one loose a shot similar to the one Holliday misplayed off his balls;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Freese was safe at second and Ryan a-hugging third.


Then from 25,000 Budweiser lubricated throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the Missouri valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the arch and echoed off their fat,
For Albert, mighty Albert, was advancing to the bat.


There was ease in Albert's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Albert's bearing and a smile on LaRussa's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Albert at the bat.


Fifty thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
The same tongues that applauded when McGwire mysteriously added 50 pounds of muscular girth.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Albert's eye, a sneer curled Albert's lip.


And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Albert stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-
Because first base was open and LaRussa had used his entire bench, the fans failed to see the pitcher spot due up next. “Ball one," the umpire said.


From the stands, the self appointed greatest fans in the world let loose a muffled roar,
Because while they like to claim to appreciate good baseball, they really just want to Big Mac or Albert swat balls onto the Mississippi shore.
"Pitch to him you puss!" shouted one of the good ole’ boys in the stands;
And its likely they'd a-killed him had not Albert raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Albert's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tension; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But it was a foot outside, and the umpire said, "Ball two."


"You Suck!" cried the 12 year old and his mulleted father wearing a shirt that said Zambrano Mows my lawn;
But one scornful look from Albert and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that next week LaRussa would probably make this mistake again.


The sneer is gone from Albert's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
Because he just took ball four and now walks away from the plate.
And now the pitcher still holds the ball, and a reliever must come to bat,
And soon the air will be deflated, with the sound of the Cardinals falling flat.


Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in St Louis – because the reliever has struck out.

40 (+7) Days of Night

Lent. A time for Catholics to hurriedly find something to deprive themselves of as soon as they see a stranger on the bus with ashes on their forehead on what they thought was a random Wednesday. Most Catholics gave up this tradition in 1972. Most non-practicing Catholics started ignoring this tradition as soon as they left their parent’s house. And the rest of the Catholic religion is waiting for the Church to apologize for any two* of the multiple transgressions the Church has committed in the past 500 years to resume the tradition.


* Technically the church did issue a lukewarm apology for its treatment of Galileo 300 years after subjecting him to the inquisition. So if you’re scoring at home, that’s 300 years to acknowledge the error of imprisoning a man who said the earth revolved around the sun. Anyone want to put money on when the next apology comes in?

So that makes me one of the only people to continue this tradition despite the fact I haven’t set foot in a church in about 3 years. And this year I decided to step it up a notch. In Lent ’10 I decided to give up beer. This is the story of one man’s journey.

Day 0
This will be easy, I’m coming off the bar Olympics (which involves the consumption of about a case of cheap beer before noon… unless you’re my friend Steve, then it involves the dumping of a case of cheap beer down the sink while no one is looking before noon) and a nasty cold. The last thing I need right now is a beer. Sure St. Paddy’s Day and the tourney will be tough but I’m a refined man that can adapt by sipping scotch and trying this wine thing.

Day 1
I grow discouraged about this project. Are there really still 39 days left?

Day 14 – Blackhawks v. Oilers
The first real challenge presents itself, making it through an entire hockey game without a beer. Hey, at least it’s not baseball season. To make things worse we’re pre-gaming at a bar called the Beer Bistro, a bar that not only has one of the best beer selections in the city and tonight happens to be $2 Schlitz night.

Another problem, I’m pretty sure the rest of the season ticket holders in my section doubted my hockey cred already. Everything I learned about hockey came from the Sega Genesis and I’ve never been on skates in my life. The fact that I’m drinking vodka tonics is not helping my case.

The good news is that it’s Jonathan Toews bobble head night so to night vodka tonic guy isn’t the lowest person on the social totem pole at the stadium… it’s the 45 year old men that are guarding the bobble head like it’s their first born. Leave it to the citizens of Schaumburg to treat a $5 piece of plastic like the Hope Diamond.

Day 18
I’ve actually started to think about the first beer I’m going to have. Is making a beer pro/con list the sign of a problem or just the sign of a great thinker? Also, I notice that every bar has a beer special but no one seems to cut you a deal on booze. The world is aligning against me.

Day 24 – St Paddy’s Day
A true test of one’s endurance, a full day of drinking that begins and ends with Jameson.

9am – All is well
11am – All is well. And to boot I was able to witness an event known as the “milk toss” in which a guy dressed up in a spectacular Boston Celtic track suit throws a gallon of milk out into the middle of Wells St. for no apparent reason.
2pm – All is well, and now I’m all in. A trip to the far northwest side means that I’m about a half hour away from home. The problem now is that I’ll have to be careful not to hit the wall and end up waking up in the back of a cab with the meter reading $80 or on the red line about 10 stops further south than I need to be.
5pm – I knew I forgot something, I should probably eat something today.
11pm – Still going strong, but drew the short straw and need to get the person in our group home who just passed out at the bar. Probably for the best. Like I said, if this goes on for too long this could end poorly. Not "I think it's a good idea to move to the suburbs" badly, but definitely "I can run a 5.0 40 yard dash down Ashland" badly.

Day 25 – Day after St Paddys
Remarkably the hangover isn’t as bad as years past, I’m guessing that has to do with the lack of green Miller Lite and corned beef cabbage sandwiches that have been sitting on a table for 14 hours. If you’re scoring at home the record is 15 sandwiches set in 2004, a record I’m pretty sure my wife will not allow me to approach again.

Days 29-32 – NCAA Tourney Round 1
Last time I tried to tackle the first round of the tournament on hard liquor I ended up getting drank under the table by a 45 year-old single newspaper reporter at a piano bar. The lesson to all you kids out there, never go shot for shot with someone who was beaten down by life while you were still watching the Bozo Show. The good news about that night is that I stayed upright long enough to watch Iowa State make history as being one of the only #2 seeds to lose in the first round.

Day 36-39 – NCAA Tournament Round 2
A friend just dropped two bombs on me. One, Ginger Ale is considered a soft drink. IMO it seems a little too old timey to be considered a soda by my definition. The big one is the fact that Lent is 47 days long this year. What’s this shit? In 12 years of Catholic school I retained a few key pieces of information:

1. Somewhere between the Old and New Testament, God mellowed out
2. Jesus was a carpenter
3. Lent is 40 days

This is horrible. Right now I feel like a Cleveland sports fan. I’m not really sure who’s to blame for this mess, but I’m pretty sure it’s time to cancel my season tickets (especially when Lebron signs with the Nets).

Day 46
The last week has been a bit hard to describe. So as we approach midnight of Easter I’ll just let this clip do the explaining. It’s safe to say that I will not be giving up beer next year… and that I will be checking the calendar in advance.

And it case you’re wondering, I went with Peroni.