$wpsc_version = 169; Tortured Fan Base http://torturedfanbase.com Heart and Soul of the Chicago Cubs since 1976 Fri, 09 Apr 2010 16:26:16 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 A Beautiful Mind and a Brilliant Idea http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/04/a-beautiful-mind-and-a-brilliant-idea/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=a-beautiful-mind-and-a-brilliant-idea http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/04/a-beautiful-mind-and-a-brilliant-idea/#comments Fri, 09 Apr 2010 16:25:26 +0000 http://torturedfanbase.com/?p=162 I have an idea! A Brilliant Idea.
Truly great ideas build slowly in the mind. Separate idea fragments are gathered over time and sit in isolation. They lay, seemingly dormant, for years. Imperceptibly reaching out, building neuron pathways to construct a web of connections until that last fragment floats into the web and the distant fragments coalesce into one gorgeous concept, and a brilliant idea is born!
A Brilliant idea in three fragments:
Roberto Alomar

Not Roberto's most lasting impression on our author

1.       Remember Roberto Alomar? Sure you do, everyone remembers the umpire spitting incident, and some might also remember the slick fielding, his deft handling of the bat or his A-rod-esque persona. But what I remember is being a baseball obsessed teenager hearing that when Alomar was trade to Toronto  in the early 90’s he never bothered to rent an apartment, opting to stay in a hotel for the 2-3 months until the end of the season. Unremarkable, except this hotel was situated inside the Blue Jay’s stadium (The Sky dome at the time, now renamed the Rogers Center or something) and he had a room that looked out on the field. I was awestruck. You mean you can live in a baseball stadium?!

2.       A few years later the Cub’s were deeply entrenched in the Steve Buechele era and wins were hard to come by. The ‘W’ flag was something of a rumor. I was couch potato-ing and came across the movie ‘Rookie of the Year.’ The mere promise of a few Hollywood Cubs victories was enough for me to put down the remote and perk up a bit.
You know the movie, an eleven year old little leaguer tears a ligament in his arm, the doctor sews him up a little tight and he comes out of it with a 103mph fastball. A scout for the Cub’s happens to witness him throw a bullet from right field during a little league game and signs him on the spot, he joins the team and after a few pitfalls they come together as a team and win the pennant. It’s basically the Mark Prior saga in rewind.
But that isn’t the idea fragment, after he is signed by the Cub’s he shows up at Wrigley for his first day on the job. When he arrives at the player’s entrance there is a big metal door that is locked up tight and they have a little Wizard of Oz moment when he knocks on the door. A Munchkin-like geezer appears out of this small window asking him what he wants. There were plenty of oddities in this movie but I was struck, did that Munchkin geezer live at Wrigley?
3.       About a week ago on an overwhelmingly pleasant Friday, the sun was shining and everyone had a smile on their face.  It was the type of day that demanded a Cub’s game but the Lords of baseball are unyielding in their adherence to the schedule. Barring a decree from chairman Selig it dawned on me that this wasn’t going to happen. Upon reconsideration I concluded that I didn’t even need a game and 40,000 sun drenched friends to hang out with, I just wanted to sit at Wrigley, sip a beer and talk baseball.
But how?
And the apple drops. Whiz! Bang! Flash! Eureka! If only I lived at Wrigley, then all my problems would be solved!
Now it’s only a matter of convincing Mr. Ricketts to let me slap a few 2×4’s together to build a little tree house into the grandstand somewhere. Perhaps if I told him I was his bastard son, drunkenly conceived after one of those College days in the bleachers, the ones before he met his future wife. Would that be enough to extort a tiny corner of Wrigley for myself? Would that work?
After some peer review this scheme revealed itself to be ill-considered, but what about a contest?
If you haven’t puzzled it together by now, this is the brilliant idea:
The Cubs need to find a couple hundred square feet of Wrigley and build a semi-livable space out of it. Then hold a contest to decide who gets the right to live there for a season. The winners (there will be two) will live together as roommates, do odd jobs around the Ball Park and blog about it several times a week. It’s a promotional bonanza, Bill Veeckian in its genius, sure to stir the blue blood in us all.

Wrigley Tree House

An Artist's Rendering

The contest would be open to all Cubs fans; the selection process is as follows:
1.       A 600 word essay on what to Cubs mean to you. This is the weed out portion where the best one-hundred continue.
2.       A Cubs trivia challenge, only the top thirty continue.
3.       Rain delay team challenge! Everyone gets split into 2 teams, and then the teams compete to see who can cover the infield with a tarp in the least amount of time.
4.       Peanut Bag toss! The remaining fifteen contestants have to long toss peanut bags into targets all around Wrigley, winners are judged on accuracy and style points. Top five continue.
5.       Final challenge- The finalists get flown down to spring training and have to write a blog about the same game. America (excluding White Sox Fans) votes- the top two get to live in Wrigley field as roommates for a season and live the dream. Unless Ronny Woo-woo ends up being the other winner.
]]> http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/04/a-beautiful-mind-and-a-brilliant-idea/feed/ 4 Dear Mr. Simmons: a rebuttal http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/02/dear-mr-simmons-a-rebuttal/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=dear-mr-simmons-a-rebuttal http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/02/dear-mr-simmons-a-rebuttal/#respond Tue, 02 Feb 2010 19:03:20 +0000 http://torturedfanbase.com/?p=158 Dear Mr Simmons:

At this point, there is nothing worse than listening to advice from a Red Sox fan: “look at how it is done Cubs fans: you just play some moneyball, reverse the curse, be loose, say some prayers, keep on plugging, believe in miracles, and most of all never give up”.

You might as well be tell us to think “outside-the-box” and to try “putting some synergy on that baseball”.

What gets me the most is that Red Sox fans were the most bitter and non-believing of any tortured fan base. Now that the worm has turned, these people are constantly trying to explain that their faith and fortitude was the key to winning. We appreciated you as brethren but you have moved on now.

You talk a little bit about how your Boston friends hate you in the winter since you have moved to LA.

That is sort of what this is about except the Chicago Cubs baseball hemisphere does not tilt predictably towards the sun on an annual basis. As Cubs fans, we are currently stationed at the North Pole and we know there is no Santa Claus.

I hope to join you in feeling peoples pain one day, in the meantime I hope LA is swallowed in a tsunami.

Your fan,

Andre Fonseca

This article refers to Bill Simmons recent article: Consider these teams officially tortured

]]> http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/02/dear-mr-simmons-a-rebuttal/feed/ 0 All Hail the Ricketts http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/01/all-hail-the-ricketts/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=all-hail-the-ricketts http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/01/all-hail-the-ricketts/#comments Wed, 13 Jan 2010 05:04:30 +0000 http://torturedfanbase.com/?p=151

Mr. Tom Ricketts, the paperwork has gone through, the votes have been tallied, bankruptcy judges have approved, money has changed hands. You, your family and your limited liability company officially own the Chicago Cubs. You are our leader!

Now what?

The Ricketts mug for the camera

Yep- we own the scoreboard, ivy, marquee, warning track, is there anything we don't own here?

Who are these anonymous ultra-rich Nebraskans and what are they planning to do with our cherished ballclub?

Is Tom going to be the George Steinbrenner of the Midwest? Brashly firing managers and spending freely on every top notch free agent in a blood-thirsty, ego-filled quest to put another notch in his championship belt.

Is he going to be a second rate Steinbrenner, like the Mets’ Fred Wilpon? Brazenly overpaying for free agent talent that the other big dogs pass on in a passive attempt to capture some attention from the Yankees— but always looking outclassed.

Or will he run the franchise in a corporate family style? Meekly keeping things running while accumulating a healthy profit, occasionally making an ill-advised offseason signing to energize our tortured fan base only to see our false hopes predictably crushed by Memorial Day.

Or will he be baseballs’ Mark Cuban? Part owner/part mascot, a loud mouth geeky innovator with deep pockets and a visible/audible presence at every home game, passionate and smart but way too involved, way too arrogant and grating at even medium doses.

Or is he the second coming of the Blackhawks’ Bill Wirtz? Ugh. The worst thing that can befall any franchise. A crusty old penny pincher that sucks the life out of your team (and local beer inventories) forcing you to wait it out until he kicks the bucket.

My initial glee in the Ricketts ownership coup turned sour as I considered some of the scarier possibilities. Concern morphed into an all-consuming passion. I needed to know what we were getting into with this group of bland cornhuskers.

While my real Dad has done an imperfect but commendable job in the parenting department, the Cubs took on the role of my abusive father, there for me long enough to get me to believe things were different, only to have the rug pulled out from under me in the end. I don’t want to disown my abusive baseball franchise father but I need my expectations to be tempered.

Have things changed? Is it different now?

I found myself scouring the internet looking for every bit of information I could dig up on this family. I had to listen to every interview, I had to dissect every statement and interpret every facial tic. I had to use knowledge to control the situation. The more I knew the better I could determine their intentions, the better I could forecast the outcome of this ownership, and the better I could blunt any future trauma.

But the more I read, the less I knew. Every interview sounds the same, and every article about them sounds like it was written by Mama Ricketts for the family Christmas letter. I was going nowhere. So I took a page from two lions of literature: Malcolm Gladwell and Sherlock Holmes (the gentlemanly old school version, not the perpetually shirtless Robert Downey, Jr.).

You know, the guy who wrote 'the tipping point'

Not really a private investigator

In Blink, Gladwell says that people believe the more information they have to make a decision, the better that decision will be–but Gladwell argues that the opposite is true. We tend to over think.  We need less information. We need to thin slice.

Legendary detective Sherlock Holmes is known for his deductive reasoning. That is, noticing small details from which he can logically infer larger truths. Like the time Watson came to his office and Sherlock was able to deduce that he just had lunch with an amorous woman because he noticed some mustard on Watson’s mustache and just a touch of bounciness in his step.

no shit sherlock

The case of the missing championship

So thank you Malcolm, thank you Sherlock. Because now I know all I need to know about how the Ricketts will run the team from one simple fact!

It’s not that Tom is a lifelong Cubs fan or that he lived a block from Wrigley Field in 1984 or that he met his wife in the bleachers or that he seems to wear blue suits a lot.

I can deduce everything I need to know about the Ricketts because they are from Nebraska.

if you listen you can hear the corn growing....

Nebraska Stand UP!

Nebraskans are conservative in temperament. Even if a Nebraskan was so inclined to get a Ferrari, they would keep it in a garage while driving a used Ford Taurus around town, not even mentioning their Ferrari unless someone else brought it up. You are not going to see the Ricketts glory-hogging their way into the spotlight, spouting off on a blog or making shows of themselves. They will play it low-key because their piano doesn’t have any other keys.

They bought the Cubs for the long haul. They are not looking to flip the Cubs like a block of South Florida condos in 2007. While their family fortune was made by building the tool of the day trader, TD Ameritrade, Nebraska is Warren Buffet country. His well worn formula of buy-and-hold-value-investing meshes perfectly with the old fashioned, no-flash ethos of the rural heartland. The Ricketts are going to take the current money-making shell of a team and build the Cubs into a real major league organization by upgrading facilities and investing more in scouting and analysts.

Nebraskans are Farmers. They like farms. The Cubs have an ailing farm system. Expect the Ricketts to show up in Peoria/Iowa/Daytona dressed in overalls, driving a tractor and doing what they can to grow some quality ballplayers.

Nebraskans aren’t looking to reinvent the wheel. They are not innovators. They seek out reliable time tested methods and are skeptical of the wild fantasies of the dreaming class. Take the Ricketts at their word when they say they are going to model the Cubs after the Red Sox. While I have some long time loser envy for the Red Sox and their obnoxious nation, they have established a good model for how to turn a flawed franchise into a perennial contender.

Don’t expect any sudden changes, but this time it really is different.

]]> http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/01/all-hail-the-ricketts/feed/ 1 Andre Dawson is going to Cooperstown http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/01/andre-dawson-is-going-to-cooperstown/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=andre-dawson-is-going-to-cooperstown http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/01/andre-dawson-is-going-to-cooperstown/#comments Fri, 08 Jan 2010 04:21:26 +0000 http://torturedfanbase.com/?p=141 A big congratulations to the Hawk on his long deserved election to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

1987 must really have been a more innocent time.  Before steroids, when ball girls could wear shorts, when cigars could be smoked in the stands,  when 47 home runs in a season was a remarkable achievement,  before upwardly spiraling salaries created a gulf of money separating the fans from the stars they adored.

Before there was an internet, there was a man named Andre.

Anyone who watched the Hawk knew he was destined for the Hall.  Critics might quibble over  imaginary numbers but the man is worthy on the basis of his fearsome arm alone.

I still have never seen another player throw a baseball the way #8 could.

At the park I sat transfixed – on TV they would be showing commercials but what you could see in between innings was well worth the price of admission.  To call Dawson’s arm a cannon is simply an insult to Newtonian physics.  He repeatedly and effortlessly tossed balls with absolutely no arc.

As a tribute to the man, we will reflect back on the moments in Cub history that made Andre into the Hawk.

  • The courting of the Cubs with the infamous blank contract offer
  • The ‘salaam’ that fans would use to salute him.   Think of how many beers where spilled in his honor by first-timers attempting this honorable tradition.
  • 9-3 ground out:  A runner took his time getting to first on a hit to right field,  Dawson threw him out easily.
  • Dawson’s stoic character made his occasional outbursts more meaningful.  When Dawson cleared the dugout of bats you knew it was because he wanted to play ball and not as a cheap ploy for attention.

  • Being the scariest player on your team means some purpose pitches are headed your way.  A pitcher attempted to send Andre a message with a viscous pitch aimed for those sweet Jeri-curls.  After hitting the ground and convincing his catcher and the umpire that he was fine, he started off for first base.  After 4 or 5 nonchalant steps he sprinted directly towards the terrified pitcher. If memory serves,  he then banished the hurler to the fiery pits of Hades.
  • When Andre hit one over the fence at Wrigley he hit one over a Tru-Link fence.   Thanks to Andre I now have a fence installer/manufacturer preference for life.

When Dawson played at Wrigley he was unquestionably the best player on the field and the undisputed leader.   The ferocity that he played with day in and day out is a special trait that eludes all but the most elite baseball players.    His longevity, milestone achievements,  and dedication are enough testament to his quiet grit and fortitude.

Thanks for spending part of your career with us at Wrigley,  the Tortured Fan Base salutes you!

]]> http://torturedfanbase.com/2010/01/andre-dawson-is-going-to-cooperstown/feed/ 1 Cubs, Mariners Trade Mistakes http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/12/cubs-mariners-trade-mistakes/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=cubs-mariners-trade-mistakes http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/12/cubs-mariners-trade-mistakes/#respond Sat, 19 Dec 2009 15:12:59 +0000 http://torturedfanbase.com/?p=131 When I first read that Friday afternoon I yipped, and I never yip. But the unbridled joy I felt knowing that the noxious stink of petulant gloom that Milt had become will be reporting to another clubhouse this February came out as an honest-to-god yip.  You can’t control these things. We are free!

The lesser of two evils

The lesser of two evils

Hats off to Jim Hendry for fooling the Mariners. I think he had the Seattle trade in his back pocket and was just waiting to see if he could get a pitcher who didn’t just have major surgery on his throwing arm in the past year. But he didn’t want to spoil Christmas for us hard suffering fans so he pulled the trigger.  I don’t care if Carlos Silva is the Venezuelan Mel Rojas. I’ll stand up and applaud every home run he gives up so long as he smiles every now and then and doesn’t bring up the 1908 thing too often.

That fateful day last winter

That fateful day last winter

The biggest move of last year’s off-season was the acquisition of Milton Bradley.  The biggest move of this year’s off-season was extricating him from the cubs’ roster. It’s not even that I hated Milton Bradley, it’s that I found him uninteresting. From day one he has displayed a remedial understanding of media and human relations, and it only got worse as the season progressed.  As he sees it, everyone is actively and covertly out to get him.  Called third strike: the umpires want him to fail.  Ill considered quote: the newspaper writers tricked him.  Forgot the number of outs in right field: Cub fans are racists.

I think he envisions himself as the righteous baseball soldier doing daily battle with these overweight agents of Satan (baseball writers, umpires, coaches) sent to twist words, distort truth, unjustly criticize and make a mockery of him.  It’s like the Cubs signed Andruw Jones’ bat and Sarah Palin’s temperament last winter.

Sarah also hates Chicago!

Sarah hates Chicago too!

Milton vs. the world is a tired repetitive story and I’m just glad it’s over.   Now I don’t have to spend my days walking in circles wondering why Milt is so angry and how Hendry hoodwinked himself into thinking Bradley has matured.   I can watch from a safe distance as Ken Griffey Jr. does his best Mother Teresa impression and attempts to fix Milton.   Good luck Junior,  your patience and perseverance will be severely tested. We however, are free!

]]> http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/12/cubs-mariners-trade-mistakes/feed/ 0 Welcome to the Fukudome http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/04/welcome-to-the-fukudome/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=welcome-to-the-fukudome http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/04/welcome-to-the-fukudome/#comments Mon, 06 Apr 2009 04:22:52 +0000 http://torturedfanbase.com/?p=112

Take a second and pretend. Take your shoes off for a moment and walk around in someone else’s footwear. Look in the mirror and see your face shift to another form. The things you know, the experiences you’ve had are all different.

japanese characters

  • Your parents: different

  • Your friends: different

  • The schools you went to, the books you’ve read: all different

  • The language(s) you speak: different

Your name is Kosuke Fukudome. You are Japanese.


  • You eat mostly raw fish

  • You would never enter somebody’s home without taking your shoes off

  • When you consume even small amounts of alcohol your face turns flush red

  • When you see a Toyota or a Honda you don’t classify it as a Japanese car, it’s just a car

  • You live on very densely populated island
  • Jimx with a Capital J
  • On this island there is no zero crime

  • Everyone has hi-tech mobile phone that makes the iPhone look like a walkie-talkie

  • Everybody above the age of 18 wears a suit and not to be flashy or to impress but to be formal and fit in

  • There are virtually no fat people on your island and those select few that push the body mass index in the other direction do so intentionally by eating a special fish slurry five times a day, then put on diapers and attempt to shove a similarly proportioned foe out of a dirt ring. These people are revered.

  • You and everybody else on your island care a lot about what your ancestors think about you
  • All of this is normal to you. These are your people, you understand them, they understand you.

You are well known on your island. You are an exceptional baseball player. You won an MVP trophy, you represented your country and helped win the first World Baseball classic. You are well respected and get paid a lot of money, but you want to test your talents. You seek the ultimate baseball challenge- to play for the Chicago Cubs.

Your season starts off well, you are pleased but not boastful. After every game there are dozens of reporters from your island asking you inane questions that you respectfully deflect. You are playing well so it doesn’t bother you.

A month into the season and you are still going strong, but you are not comfortable in the club house. You cannot talk directly to any of your teammates; everything must go through your interpreter. Your interpreter is a jerk. You have given it a month and are certain that if he had any going away parties thrown for him when he left Japan the real celebration occurred after he had departed.

June rolls around and midway through you start to struggle at the plate, but you make the All-Star Game and are confident you can get things back on track.

But you continue to struggle. The flock of reporters are starting to unnerve you. They are not your friends.

August is also not your friend. Your swing is desperate, your wife is not adjusting well to this strange land. This becomes your problem. There is no peace at home. The sessions with reporters are truly painful, but you are stoic and shoulder the burden.

While you continue to struggle, your interpreter continues being an unrelenting jerk. Because of him your jokes are not funny, you’re pretty sure he changes the meaning of what you say causing you unknown embarrassment and you are positive that if you asked him to pick you up your favorite porn mag he would tell the reporters and then your wife would find out so even though you are a multi-millionaire you have to take a cab downtown to the one place that stocks your favorite magazine and it starts to become a real hassle.

September comes knocking and your bat completely disappears. Your swing is awful, comical even. Not Casey at the bat, more like Bugs Bunny at the bat.

After a rocky start, Bugs ended up with a great career

Baseball has become a chore, the locker room is uncomfortable, the daily roundup with the reporters makes you want to vomit, when your wife isn’t crying she is complaining, and getting your porn fix is inconvenient. Lucky for you Chicago Cubs October baseball will not last long.

Ok, step out of Fuk’s shoes, re-transformed your face.

There are two possible reasons for Fuk’s late season swoon.

1. Having trouble adjusting to being away from Japan
2. The ozone size holes in his swing that MLB pitchers have found

I am really hoping that the problem is confined to reason #1 and more than willing to go through untold mental gymnastics in order to convince myself of this. Because #1 has a solution, #2 does not.

The solution: The reporters shouldn’t be a problem this season, the wife stays in Japan, the porn mag comes in the mail, the translator gets replaced. Done and done, but lets not stop there. Fuk doesn’t just need a new translator he needs a posse, an entourage. Trying to put So Taguchi on the roster is a start, but I want 4-5 guys Kosuke grew up with to shelter him in a uniquely Japanese bubble of support and approval. His breakfast will be prepared for him, his car driven for him, his picture book novels carefully selected and placed in his locker, his dinner reservations be made for him, his late night geisha arranged for. Fuk’s jokes are going to be funny this year!

]]> http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/04/welcome-to-the-fukudome/feed/ 2 Wild Speculations: Definitive Answers to Impossible Questions http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/03/wild-speculations-definitive-answers-to-impossible-questions/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=wild-speculations-definitive-answers-to-impossible-questions http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/03/wild-speculations-definitive-answers-to-impossible-questions/#respond Mon, 02 Mar 2009 06:13:49 +0000 http://torturedfanbase.com/wp/?p=65 With the recent inauguration of Barack Obama, Illinois has the honor of being birthplace to one president (Ronald Reagan) and primary residence to three others who earned their political chops within our borders (Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses Grant, Obama). This is a remarkable honor, and yet I am transfixed by one detail, one fact, one smug reality.s-OBAMA-large.jpg

On January 20th, 2009 the United States of America inaugurated the first black president in the +230 year history of this nation, and even more improbable, the first White Sox fan. The odds that a White Sox fan would be president are so infinitesimally small that it is quite literally incomprehensible. The odds are not quite zero, but as they say in calculus, it is a number approaching zero. Don’t believe me?

Just try these numbers on for size:
• There can’t be more than 4 million actual Sox fans and that’s probably a high estimate
• 40% of Sox fans are under 35 and not yet eligible to run for US president
• 15% of Sox fans are foreign born and not eligible to be US president
• 98% of Sox fans have the communication skills of a Streets and San foreman (sentences littered with grunts, snorts, creative curse words and semi-logical points punctuated with specks of spit arcing wildly in multiple directions. (Think Mayor Daley at any news conference))

daleycubs-1.jpg

• Of the remaining Sox Fans, approximately 0% have an outlook on life that is positive and attractive enough for a broad majority of Americans to willfully choose him (or her) as a national leader.

It is not just audacious, it defies all reason. It’s more improbable than Charlie Bucket getting the golden ticket in Willie Wonka & The Chocolate Factory with just two Wonka bar purchases!charlie_golden_ticket.jpgNonetheless, the most current president of the United States is a White Sox fan, this is indisputable. But what is very, very, very disputable is the question of another local president and his MLB allegiance.
Yes, I am going to explore the issue of which baseball team Abraham Lincoln would have rooted for regardless of the fact that baseball did not even have codified rules or a professional league until a good 10-15 years after his tragic death.

The question, as posed, is which team Abraham Lincoln would root for if he was resurrected (Jesus style) and lived among us in these modern times.punk-abe-lincoln.jpg

Assuming he would stick to his geographic roots and live in central Illinois, the teams in the running would be the Cardinals, Sox and Cubs.

St. Louis Cardinals, case for:
Springfield is nominally Card country, it’s less than a 2 hour drive to St. Louis and the dusty farmer scene of Springfield jibes more with the dirty river town lifestyle in St. Louis.

Case against:

I can’t for the life of me figure out what, if anything, the Cardinals stand for. Being bland, boring and overweight? Politely applauding Tony La Russa as he over-manages another game? Deriving your entire self worth from your proximity to Albert Pujols’ hitting prowess? Being a Cardinals fan isn’t something you consciously choose, it’s like hereditary heart disease you’re just born with it.

Plus Missouri was a slave state back in Abe’s day and Stephen Douglas carried the state in the 1860 election.LincolnDebate.jpg

Chicago White Sox, case for:
• Abe is known to wear a black hat on occasion
• He’s also said to have been a bit moody
Case against:
Intelligent, articulate and thoughtful people do not gravitate toward the ball club at 35th and Shields. Abe Lincoln presided over the bloodiest war in American history, but at heart he was a man of peace, Sox fans at heart are brawlers prone to fits of mindless violence.

Chicago Cubs, case for:
• Log Cabin = Wrigley Field
Rustic charm has universal appeal despite lack of modern comforts, equally primitive toilet system
ichi11483.jpgwrigleyfield.jpg
• Boys in Blue = Chicago Cubs = Union Soldiers
The color blue resonates deeply with Lincoln as that was the color of the uniforms the Union soldiers wore

• General Ulysses S Grant = Lou Pinella
This is self-evident. Both are born leaders blessed with innate strategic brilliance despite obvious shortcomings in other areas of their lives. TFB goes so far as to say that this year’s Cubs season will be analogous to Grants battle of Shiloh; surprising, violent, huge casualties, yet ultimately victorious.
Ulysses_Grant_3.jpgt1_lou_piniella.jpg
•  But Most Seriously
Lincoln did not live the coddled life of privilege; his mother died when he was nine of “milk sickness” (whatever that is/was), his dear older sister Sarah died about a decade later while giving birth, his first love died of typhoid fever, his second engagement turned him down flat (ouch!), when he finally found a willing partner in Mary Todd three of their four sons died before making it out of their teens.
Even his successes had depressing results in that his very election to the office of President precipitated nearly half of the nation to secede before he was even sworn in and almost immediately called to lead the nation out of the “bloodiest war” in US history.
Lincoln was a man who knew pain and loss intimately. A man who allegedly suffered from clinical depression for most of his adult life, yet was able to get out of bed each and every morning and face the day with a new sense of hope and belief against all odds that this new day will be better than the previous.

punk-abe-lincoln-1.jpg

The Cubs legacy of heart break and sorrow is trivial compared to the troubles Abraham routinely encountered throughout his life. But if there is any team with a history and a culture that Lincoln would appreciate and identify with, and a fan base so tortured yet blissfully resilient, the Cubs are the one.
-Aside #1: Former Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich and his Baseball sympathies are conveniently ignored in this post because the whole issue is entirely too depressing but again necessitates the Abraham Lincoln as Cubs fan argument.
-Aside #2: While researching presidents for this post I found out that Richard Nixon was a Quaker. This really challenges my preconceptions of what Quakers are all about but on another note it raises the delicious possibility of coming across a box of Quaker Oats with Nixon’s ugly mug on the front.

]]> http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/03/wild-speculations-definitive-answers-to-impossible-questions/feed/ 0 Out with the old, in with the Nucleus http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/01/out-with-the-old-in-with-the-nucleus/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=out-with-the-old-in-with-the-nucleus http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/01/out-with-the-old-in-with-the-nucleus/#respond Mon, 26 Jan 2009 22:31:25 +0000 http://torturedfanbase.com/wp/?p=63 flying-monkey.jpgLast week a flock of flying monkeys swirled up from the charred brick dungeon deep below the Tribune Tower. The menacing screech of these avian-primates sending word that the dark lord Sam Zell is one step closer to releasing our beloved franchise from his cold bony hands.
This is good news for 2 reasons:
1. The Cubs have been in ownership limbo for long enough. Everything has been in stand still mode since the Tribune buyout. Could you imagine if Lou decided he had enough of Soriano’s disappearing-reappearing bat and decided to quit? What top flight manager could the Cubs attract with such an unstable situation? boneyhands.jpg
2. The Cubs were never going to win the World Series with Sam Zell as owner. Powerful forces were at work ensuring any Cubs title hopes would be thwarted. It is widely understood that any drought breaking championship win by the North sider’s would instantly ensure everybody even loosely associated with the club, from the owner down to the bathroom attendant, a place in Cub’s lore. Their own float in the parade and another line in their obituary. They would be remembered forever. But, the exact minute the Cub’s get that final out, the owners place in history set, the resale value of the franchise drops a couple hundred million!
Think about it. It’s not just the Cubs that are for sale, it’s not just Wrigley Field that is being sold, and not just 25% of Comcast sports net. What’s also being sold is the opportunity to have your name toasted in bars all over the world, to be famous, to be revered, to be immortalized. $700 million for the Cubs and Wrigley, $200 million to live forever.
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You might not have realized the premium placed on this potential honor, but you can be sure anyone with a vested interest in getting the Cubs sold for the highest price realized this. The top of that list has Sam Zell’s name on it in big John Hancock size print.
Just below is Bud Selig’s name, and below that every other owner of a Major League Baseball team. (If the Cubs house goes for 900 million, all the other houses in MLB village are looking more expensive.) The people on that list are rich and more than capable of ensuring that they get richer.
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So a sale to just about anyone at all would be great news. I don’t know much about Mr. Tom Ricketts and his fantastically rich family, except that they share a surname with a vitamin-D deficiency that is the scourge of many developing countries. As long as none of them are directly responsible for the creation and perpetuation of the disease then I think they’ll be fine owners.

]]> http://torturedfanbase.com/2009/01/out-with-the-old-in-with-the-nucleus/feed/ 0 Zambrano’s No Hitter: An Eyewitness Account http://torturedfanbase.com/2008/09/zambranos-no-hitter-an-eyewitness-account/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=zambranos-no-hitter-an-eyewitness-account http://torturedfanbase.com/2008/09/zambranos-no-hitter-an-eyewitness-account/#comments Mon, 15 Sep 2008 06:54:07 +0000 http://torturedfanbase.com/wp/?p=62 The Prelude

On Saturday night at approximately 9:21pm I received the news from frantic Cubs Fan #43 that hurricane Ike had relocated the Cubs vs Houston game to Miller Park.

“Cubs are playing tomorrow night and Monday in Milwaukee. Road Trip?”
The only valid response to this question:
“Yes”

This prompted me to send a bunch of messages to round up the gang, rally the troops, get the band back together etc….
The silence was deafening.
Apparently the rain and the recent slide had taken its toll on my circle of Cubs Fans. They will be referred to only as the Idiots from now on.
After performing various spiritual rituals, escaping the teary eyes of my lovely Cubs widow, and dodging biblical floods on the streets of Chicago I arrived at the condominium village on the northwest side of Chicago (this place belongs in a suburb) to begin our epic journey.
Agent 43 and his trusty Cubs sidekick, Lisa, began our harrowing trip to the land of cheese in our heavily armored limo. Traffic was avoided, GPS systems enabled, smoke screens deployed, and special defensive driving allowed us to pass unholy numbers of fellow Cubs vagabonds. Lisa can haul ass- God bless her.
We arrived and paid Bernie the Brewer for parking. With 30 minutes to spare we dashed quickly through a couple pregame warm ups and collected our tickets.
I noticed a strange collections of baseball fans at will call – Cubs fans mixed with Brewers fans, and most curiously some idiot wearing a White Sox jersey he apparently stitched himself from used underwear. There is a good chance that no one will ever love this misguided southsider.

Act I: The Scoring

I’d never been to the Brewery and as we were escorted to our luxury right field bleacher seats I took in as much of the stadium as possible.
We arrived as the Anthem was playing and before the lineups were announced. During the first at-bat Fonzie smashes a towering blast that was going to hit the roof. I was concerned about Miller Park ground rules and probably had enough time to look them up before the ball finally landed in the left-field bleachers.
The crowd, after the long commute, erupts. A cute little 4 year old girl behind us in a little pink Cubs jersey freaked out and was insanely happy. That was fun. If the game ended here and we had to go home, it would have been worth it. The Cubbies go down quietly after that, time for the Astros at bat.
Zambrano starts dealing and he hits 96 and 98 with his fastball. I look to #43 and we agree the gun must be hot.. no way is Z firing like that.
It is obvious this isn’t the measured Z we have seen all year who has been taking his sweet time getting warmed up and slowly reaching his peak around the 3rd or 4th inning. This doesn’t look like inning management. He retired the side to some big cheers. I am positive the radar gun is broken.
*We are 500 feet away and Soto’s mitt is popping like we are calling balls and strikes. I bet Soto has to get the day off tomorrow to get the swelling down.
We are pretty easily distracted:

“No big deal- where’s the count in here anyway- oh neat there is a pitch count over there, that’s the slide where Bernie slides down, hey next Cubbie homerun lets siege the slide.. ha ha”

3 up, 3 down for the Cubbies and the Astros. An unlikely single next inning from Cedeno, then another single from Z puts runners on first and second. Fonzie hits another moon shot that doesn’t leave the infield this time and then TheRiot pops out.

“Oh crap- we can’t get the number 8 and 9 hitters on and not score this inning- and here comes D.Lee”
Agent 43 mentions that D.Lee has x home runs and all of them are solo homers and he is so unclutch they should move him to number 13 in the batting order, blah blah blah.
In my prescient but measured way I mention he could make up for that right now.
Boom: 2 Run Double!

The floodgates open with a couple more hits from Ramirez and Soto and after walking DeRo Randy Wolf gets the hook. 4 runs… we congratulate ourselves.

Act II: The Canoe of Cheesecurds

After that long inning, I’m a few beers in and a long car ride from Chicago in need of a bathroom. There is no trough in here… I’m confused and a little scared to be in such a small bathroom. The bathrooms at Wrigley are made for the thousands. I’m pretty sure my bathroom at home is bigger than this Miller Park fiasco.
Might as well grab a brat and some beer while I’m up. For some reason they are playing the Brewers-Phillies game on TV. This is confusing – I glance over my shoulder and notice a man on base, then I hear a double play go down, cheer, and return to the long line.
Fried Cheese Curds in a little paper canoe, a brat, and a beer. The little paper canoe makes me happy and I trot back to the loyal team. Lisa is out on reconnaissance but Agent 43 is holding the seats.

Cheesecurd Fonseca: “Hey- who got the hit”
43: “Shut up dumbass- that’s an error on the scoreboard”
Cheesecurd: “Erase that comment from your memory completely- I never said that- understand?”

I’m not even going to recount the Cubbie offense from here on, there might have been a hit somewhere but no one cared.
Defensively I am sure every Cub on the field was scared for their life. Think about it, if you screwed up on a normal day, Z might devour your children ala Iron Mike. Today, he would slay your entire family Kaiser Soze style, but with more panache and ferocity.
It is the 5th and soon after the cheesecurd enabled conversation, Carlos fires some inside heat and barely misses Hunter Pence- the blood thirsty crowd calls out to really nail him next time. Z complies and plunks him in the back. (I admit I was the only one who wanted Hunter to get hit, but I was only kidding)
The next batter senses weakness and hits a rope. Quantum physicists are at a loss to explain how this happened, but D.Lee puts a patented leaping stab on this ball that goes over any normally proportioned first baseman’s head.
It’s the 6th Inning and the Astros call in their 12th no-name pitcher of the night. It doesn’t matter, every Cub in the lineup is scared shitless that they are going to screw up in the field or look cross-eyed at Z in the dugout. The crowd is slowly starting to figure this out.
Lisa says something to 43 about there “not being much offense from the Astros”. There is almost a tragic end to this fairy tale romance. Luckily Lisa brought back 2 beers from her latest Bernie-Slide Recon mission. (Her suggested route involves a trapeze and a zip line… note: bring zipline next time)

Act III: Internal Conflict

It’s the 7th, at this point I start to worry about Big Z’s arm. we thought he needed an MRI only last week! He is still only around 85 pitches but I know he will do anything to make this no-no happen.

“He could kill himself out there”

Part of me almost wishes for a hit so we can relax and put Z on ice. That part of me is obviously defective and will soon be surgically removed regardless of cost.
By the 8th, the text messages and voicemails start piling up on the phones, the excitement is building and all of a sudden an Astro bat cracks a shot tailing towards the right field corner.
A strange feeling of dread mixed with relief hits me… then out of nowhere a streaking DeRosa finds an angle on the ball and barely snares it sno-cone style. It might look like an easy catch on the replays and it was easier than the D.Lee leaper earlier, but there was so much riding on that catch.
Oh man the crowd is going nuts at this point- this guy next to me almost breaks my hand on a high-five, another grown man is obviously hyperventilating and most everyone around us has completely lost their mind.
The next batter pops one up in foul territory- It’s DLee, Carlos and Soto heading towards each other in slow motion- all sorts of horrible collisions go through my tortured mind until Z waves his arms maniacally and scares every living human on the field away from the ball. I saw the 1st base coach flinch along with the entire section behind the dugout. That was funny- I can’t wait to see it on ESPN Classic.
At this point Z might be tiring- he has a small battle but collects another K and storms to the dugout.

Act IV: The Final Inning

We all look at each other in disbelief- there is a sort of strange silence before the Cubs come up to bat in the top of the 9th, not a murmer… I think everyone has something like this in their heads:

“Is this real? am I dreaming, is this what heaven looks like? did I just eat a whole canoe full of fried cheesecurds? Is this really just a brain embolism”

The first two batter hit tough choppers to TheRiot who gobbles them up. Pretty quickly we are facing the potential 3rd out…
What was already a boisterous, loud, and excited crowd has reached asylum bedlam levels.
Flashbulbs are going off all over the stadium- adults with jobs and responsibilities are jumping up and down slamming their palms on the seats like self flagellating holy pilgrims.
I still can’t believe it- Z threw a wicked breaking ball on the outside that had no chance of touching a bat and IT happened.
To say we all felt chills is not sufficient- we all felt a sub-absolute-zero-3rd-degree-simultaneous-climax. People were crying, singing, most of all cheering and screaming. I grabbed a stranger and shook the living crap outta him. A couple fools with no respect for the moment ran for the aisles to beat traffic.
The story doesn’t end here, but I can’t read what I am typing anymore.
To be continued….

]]> http://torturedfanbase.com/2008/09/zambranos-no-hitter-an-eyewitness-account/feed/ 5 James Patrick “Jim” Edmonds 15 OF http://torturedfanbase.com/2008/08/james-patrick-%e2%80%9cjim%e2%80%9d-edmonds-15-of/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=james-patrick-%25e2%2580%259cjim%25e2%2580%259d-edmonds-15-of http://torturedfanbase.com/2008/08/james-patrick-%e2%80%9cjim%e2%80%9d-edmonds-15-of/#respond Fri, 08 Aug 2008 12:34:03 +0000 http://torturedfanbase.com/wp/?p=61 The life of James Patrick “Jim” Edmonds as a time line with special reference to the Cub-Card thing.
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June 27, 1970 Jimmy James Patrick Edwards is born
June 27, 1970 Infant Jimmy James is loved and adored by all
July 14, 1974 Four year old Jimmy James’ brain develops to the point he can retain memories and conscious thought
July 15, 1974 Jimmy James thinks very highly of himself
June 22, 1978 Jimmy James excels in his little league baseball games
June 23, 1978 Jimmy James’ opinion of himself swells to staggering levels
April 12, 1981 6th grade Jimmy James asks an 8th grader at his elementary school to high school prom unconcerned with the fact that one of them should at least be attending high school for this request to be taken seriously
April 12, 1981 6th grad Jim Edmonds is very sure of himself
April 12, 1981 Stacy, the 8th grade girl in question is bewildered and frightened by 6th grade Jimmy and his cocksure aggressiveness, smiles tentatively, presses her trapper keeper against her chest and walks swiftly to the safety of her table of squawking girl friends
April 12, 1981 6th grade Jimmy James briefly doubts himself
April 12, 1981 Jimmy starts a rumor that 8th grade Stacy is a “full on Lesbian!”
April 12, 1981 The rumor spreads successfully
April 13, 1981 Jimmy is vindicated
June 1998 Jimmy James continues to excel at baseball and gets drafted by the California Angels
July 5, 1998 Jimmy James Edwards asks everyone to stop calling him Jimmy because he is a g’damm grown man, a professional ball player and quite the catch, not that he would let any one girl ‘catch’ him for than a one night
March 27, 2000 Jim Edmonds gets traded to the St Louis Cardinals
2000 – 2007 Jim has a successful 8 year stint with the Cards and Tony La Russa who becomes ‘like a Father’ to him
December 15, 2007 Jim Edmonds is traded to the San Diego Padres and away from his ‘like a Father,’ Tony La Russa
March 1, 2008 Jim changes his batting stance to compensate for some injuries and his advancing age
March 2, 2008 Jim still thinks very highly of himself
Spring 2008 Without his ‘like a Father’ figure he is lost and out of place. His hitting suffers. Jim still thinks very highly of himself and you can be sure he’s still a hit with the ladies. But a little of that doubt from 6th grade resurfaces
May 9, 2008 Jim is released from the Padres and gets placed on waivers
May 14, 2008 The Cubs sign Jim Edmonds, hoping he has a little magic still left in that left handed bat
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May 15, 2008 Jim fins a new ‘like a Father’ figure in sweet Lou Piniella
May 15, 2008 Lou asks him why the hell he doesn’t use the batting stance he used when he was a cardinal and hitting the ball all over the damn place. Huh? What was wrong with that batting stance?
May 16, 2008 Jim wants to please his new ‘like a Father’ very much so he decides to change his batting stance
May 16, 2008 Jim feels whole again
June, 2008 Jim starts hitting the ball all over the damn place
June, 2008 Jim is constantly being badgered by the Chicago media force regarding his status as a true Cub vs. a true Cardinal
July 4, 2008 This badgering comes to a tumult as the cubs travel to St Louis for his first return to that town on the Mississippi
July 4, 2008 Jim feels safe in the capable hands of his new ‘like a Father’ figure Lou and has been having a blast plying the more impressive waters of the Cubs female fan base, so he tells the media hordes before a nationally televised game that “he was a Cardinal, but now he is a Cub, so lets all just move on.”
July 4, 2008 This statement makes Tony La Russa cry
July 5, 2008 A visibly hurt and watery eyed Tony responds by saying “you are dead to me Jim,’ but not in the pointedly angry yet cool manner of Michael Corleone and more like whiney brat who didn’t want to see his former ‘like a son’ succeed for a division rival.
July 5, 2008 Jim responds by starting a rumor that Tony La Russa is a ‘full on Lesbian’
July 6, 2008 This rumor goes nowhere
July 7, 2008 Jim still feels vindicated
[And this exchange (most importantly making Tony La Russa cry) puts him as close to being a true Cub as any player who helped bring a championship ring to the dim witted masses of St Louis could ever be.]

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