Cubs win! Let's all write-in Theo Epstein for Prez!

(669 words)

Something happened late last night that convinced me to do something I never dreamed I’d ever do.

I’m not voting for Hillary.

Trump? Hell, no.

Third party? I’ll not waste my vote.

What are my plans?

I’m writing in Theo Epstein!

If he can in just 12 years vanquish a collective 188 years of World Series droughts between the Boston Red Sox and the Chicago Cubs he can make ANYTHING great again.

Epstein, today 42, was just 28 in 2002 when the Red Sox hired him to be their general manager. Two years later the perennially cursed Sox won their first World Series in 86 years. Three years later, he won them another.

Inexplicably, the Sox let him go in 2011 (haven’t won since) and he was snapped up by the Cubs. All he did for them was end the longest and most fabled drought in sports history, the 108-year folly of the Cubs.

So this one man has now won two more world championships than all the vaunted New York Yankees teams have won this century.

Him negotiating baseball salaries seems a gross misapplication of genius.

Can you imagine what a man like that could do if he sunk his teeth into climate change?

Or health care? EpiPens would be cheaper than Tootsie Rolls.

Reporters last night were asking him if he thought the Cubs could repeat.

Idiots. A man this great shouldn’t be troubled with such piddling questions.

Someone should ask him where we all go when we die. He knows, I’m sure. It’s just no one’s ever bothered to ask.

I won’t say last night was the greatest baseball game ever. That honor goes to Game 7 of the 1960 Pittsburgh Pirates versus the New York Yankees.

But given the circumstances, it was the greatest baseball event I’ve ever seen.

The indelible moment for me was the goofy grin Kris Bryant had on his face as the last out dribbled into his glove. It was a tricky play and given him being a Cub immortal catastrophe could have ensued, but his joy and skill were transcendent.

And I could sense the entire country for the first time in years felt simultaneously good, happy. Glad to be alive.

Well, every one but the Indians and all their pitiful fans.

The national reaction bolsters my contention that anytime you feel like talking about politics you should instead talk about baseball.

Talk about Roberto Clemente, Satchel Paige, Babe Ruth and Jackie Robinson. Suggest that the problem with baseball isn’t the games are too long; they’re not long enough.

And talk about the 2016 Chicago Cubs, a team for the ages.

They’ve given the whole country a happy lift when we’re all feeling poisoned by politics.

That Cub-love is an about face coming from me. Remember, it was I who wrote just last week in the “Cubs will lose” link below how much I hated them.

To summarize, I said they’d lose because of Steve Bartman and because of this one evil jackass with whom I nearly came to blows at a Pirate game back in 2008.

I put my soul-devouring hatred for this one jerk above all my Chicago friends, my fond memories of my visits there, and my warm regard for things like Olde Style beer and artery clogging deep dish pizza.

It diminished me. Our hatreds always do.

I’ll admit there were times I even dreamed he was dead.

He was an older dude with a cranky disposition. I imagined him choking on a sausage or being the victim of justifiable homicide over some neighbor hedge dispute.

But this morning even the mists of that hatred have been blown away in the wake of an historic victory. 

And I now realize even if someone did justifiably kill that miserable bastard, Theo Epstein could have resurrected him for the Cubbie celebration.

After what he did for the entire franchise, bringing back from the dead just one measly Cub fan would be a piece of cake.

Related …

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Cubs will lose

(595 words)

I was 19 years old the first time I went to Chicago. It was the summer Doug and I barnstormed the Midwest with a traveling carnival.

We made good money, had a great time and learned there were at least a few Illinois girls reckless enough about their reputations to be seen kissing carnies.

During an off-day, I toured the historic Chicago Tribune building and saw the office where Mike Royko wrote the columns that made me want to grow up to be just like him.

I drank beer and ate cheeseburgers in the Billy Goat Tavern.

I was back in the Windy City in 1989 on an a story about luxury train travel, having scored a D.C.-to-Chicago ticket on board the American-Oriental Express. I became friends with a guy in the piano car and we went for downtown drinks and dinner before I had to return. It’s a splendid memory.

The last time I was in Chicago was with three buddies. We were on a Wrigley pilgrimage and saw three games at the hallowed ballpark. What fun we had.

I’m friends with many Cubs fans and am often charmed by the friendliness of the people I meet from the Second City.

So why with all that happy history am I rooting for the Cubs to lose in a heartbreaking fashion?

It’s all because of two guys.

Steve Bartman and the jackass

Note: I didn’t say Steve Bartman and billy goat.

You may know about Bartman. He’s the hapless left field foul line fan who made the common mistake of reaching for a foul ball in Game 6 of the 2003 NLCS. The interference may or may not have caused Cubs leftfielder Moises Alou to miss what would have been the second out of the eighth inning.

Whatever. A Florida Marlins rally ensued and the Marlins went on to win the game and the World Series.

The Cubs fans blamed Bartman, then 26. It was ugly. Fans wanted to kill him. Some still do.

A friend of his said told CNN: “It was something like a biblical ‘Give us Barabbas and crucify the other guy,’ you know. It was mob action fueled by a lot of alcohol, a perfect storm of dysfunctional behavior.”

He still gets death threats.

That would never happen in Pittsburgh!

I contend the fabled curse of the billy goat won’t be the reason the Cubs lose this series in seven games (14 inning Game 7).

I believe it’ll be because of Bartman.

And the jackass.

I don’t know his name. I wrote about the incident in this 2008 link, the one I deftly headlined, “I hate the Chicago Cubs.”

I don’t think I’ve ever hated a single person more.

Through the years I’ve built him into evil incarnate. 

When I heard years ago ISIL was forming a caliphate with intentions of subjugating the entire Christian world, I thought, “I’ll bet that jackass Cubs fan is behind the whole thing.”

At various times, I’ve endured tech and automotive troubles that have been exacerbated by men who’ve either looked or sounded suspiciously like that jackass Cubs fan.

So, you see, I don’t think the Cubs have a prayer.

But there’s still time. The Cubs could say all is forgiven and invite Bartman to throw out the first pitch at Game 3 Friday night.

Many good Cubs fans realize they put the poor guy through hell with their hatred and death threats. They're eager to make amends. 

It’s never helpful to threaten to kill someone like Bartman.

So go on and make things right. Say you forgive Steve Bartman. 

Then find and kill that jackass.

Who I'm liking in baseball playoffs (hint: it isn't the Chicago Cubs)

(1,056 words)

I wrote just last week how the death of a dear friend had given me crucial life perspective, that in the great scheme of things the Pirates losing a one-game wildcard playoff didn’t really matter.

I lied.

I am bereft! Devastated! Bereaved! Disconsolate! Mournful!

Forlorn?

Hell, it’s been more than a week and I still feeling closer to eightlorn.

I really thought this was the year the Bucs would make a nice long run. More than a few top experts picked them to win it all.

Alas, it was not to be.

So once again I’m left to contrive some stupid artificial reason to cheer for a bunch of overpaid strangers I’m pretty sure I’d mostly dislike if I ever met them in their street clothes.

This is a very poignant time of year for ardent baseball fans like me. Best case scenario: there are only 21 games left 

So when people ask me what I’m hoping will happen, I always say, “Game 7s, rain delays and extra inning games that don’t end until spring training.”

Spring training, by the way, begins in 126 days.

We’re left with the Toronto Blue Jays vs. the Kansas City Royals in the American League; and in the National, the New York Mets vs. the Chicago Cubs.

Let’s break it on down:

Kansas City Royals — I’ve never been to Kanas City, don’t know anyone from Kansas City and think if Kansas was good enough for Dorothy and Toto, it’s good enough for me. Still, I’m suspicious of Kansas City because Kansas City tries to hide half its population in Missouri. That’s very deceptive. What does Kansas City, Kansas, have against Kansas City, Missouri? I’d like to see Royal players who live in one state square off against the Royals who reside in the other. But my ignorance of the city and its people works to their benefit. I can’t hate what I don’t know.

Toronto Blue Jays — Many Pittsburghers are rooting for the Jays. Our former catcher, Russell Martin, departed the Bucs last year because he wanted to play for his native country. We admire that. And until Trump tells us it’s time to extend our xenophobic hatred to Canada, Martin’s is a feel good story. But for me it goes deeper than Martin. I have a family connection to Jose Bautista. My daughter met him. It was 2008, Bautista’s last year as an unheralded Buc. Josie, then 8, got drawn for a “Kids Take the Field” Sunday. She was stationed at 3rd base and stood there for pre-game festivities until it was time for the players to come out. Each kid was given a ball for the players to sign. I was thrilled. She was so cute. I stood above the dug out filming as this massive ballplayer bent down to converse with my daughter. When she returned, I asked what they’d talked about. “I said, ‘Hi!’ and he said, “Gimme the ball.’ Was that it? “That was it.” So, Bautista has remained a favorite of mine because he didn’t say, “Gimme the ball, bitch,” to an 8 year old. Classy guy. And he hit what is already one of the most iconic homers in baseball history to beat the Texas Rangers (and, boy, would this rant be different if Texas were still alive). The homer followed an ugly incident in which enraged Toronto fans rained beer cups on the field. This is disqualifying behavior for many cultural observers. Not for me. Had this happened in any major American city, the fans would not have tossed beer cups in protest. They’d have drawn concealed weapons and begun firing indiscriminately. So because of their comparative civility, I’m rooting for the Canadian team to beat the Kansas City hooligans in seven games.

New York Mets — Many Americans reflexively hate New York City and all it stands for. Not me. I love New York, admire the Yankees and have overcome my old hatred of the once-rival Mets. Hating the Mets was for me like a religious conviction. Part of it goes back to ’92 when they stole once-stalwart Bobby Bonilla from the Pirates. I remember Bonilla turning down a $25 million Pirate contract saying, he needed to “take care of my family,” a comment that caused then Pirate manager Jim Leyland to observe, “For $25 million, he could take care of Guam.” But after decades of comical fecklessness, these Mets are a spunky bunch. Plus, if you hate New York, what you’re really saying is you hate the Yankees and the Mets winning infuriates the Yankees.

The Chicago Cubs — The Cubs winning is great story. They haven’t won in 107 years, the longest drought in professional sports. They’re America’s favorite underdog. I, too, love underdogs. Heck, rooting for the favorite would be like me rooting against myself. But I can’t root for the Cubs. It’s very surprising because I love Chicago, have had some great times at Wrigley and the city is home to many good friends. But I can’t root for the Cubs for two primary reasons: The first is Steve Bartman. The name is unfamiliar to casual baseball fans, but many Cubs fans foster an irrational hate for him that supersedes even arch-villains like Roger Goodell. Bartman had the misfortune to in a 2003 playoff game be sitting in the front row when a possibly catchable foul ball drifted near. Reacting on fan instinct he reached out for it, possibly interfering with Cub shortstop Moises Alou’s ability to catch it for the out. Ugly death threats followed. And if you checked out the picture of the guy (above) you’ll be forgiven if you mistook him for Charlie Brown. A lifelong fan, he’s never returned to Wrigley. They ruined his life. It’s appalling. Worse, I personally witnessed what Cub fans will be like if, God forbid, they do win. For all the gory details about why I hate the Chicago Cubs I urge you to read the below link helpfully headlined, “I hate the Chicago Cubs.” Like-minded friends are worried about the Cubs. I am not. I tell them the Cubs will eventually realize they are Cubs and all will be well.

I’m rooting for the Mets to win in 7.

In the World Series, let’s go with the Blue Jays to win in 7.

Related . . . 

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A rooting fan’s guide to baseball playoffs, ’11

The man Maz made a Communist

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