GAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

I Like Big BATS and I Cannot Lie...

I've been putting this post off for a while now, (lest I jinx myself and force the Cardinals into a 10 game skid,) but the recent rash of awesomeness definitely warrants mentioning. As a seasoned skeptic, I'm not usually convinced that Redbird success is anything other than a total fluke. However, as the month of August wears on, I'm starting to subscribe to the theory that we might actually have a skilled, well balanced and fully synchronized group of ballplayers on our hands. The Birds have won 7 of their last 10 and now sit 4.5 games in first place ahead of the shame spiraling baby bears of Chi-town. It's an intoxicating feeling, to be sure. Hell, I hardly know what to do with myself! I think I could even hug a Cubs fan, although that might be taking it a little too far. Let's not get carried away here, people.

Speaking of the Scrubbies, those poor bastards have now lost five in a row, including a sweep by the Phillies at home. YIKES, that hurts! So much so that one drunken idiot in the center field bleachers decided to express his displeasure by dousing Shane Victorino with a plastic cup full of beer on Wednesday. Oh, those silly Cubs fans! Time and time again, they continue to prove themselves the poster children of class and dignity.

Anyway, I have to admit, I find this all rather uncomfortable. It's awkward to write about the Cardinals winning, as I can't muster up the sarcasm and indignant acidity that usually craft my commentary. I struggle with my analysis when it isn't spewed venomously, peppered with swear words or reduced to volatile and violent ranting. Thank goodness I'm a cynic or else this blog would be in some serious trouble! As great as things are going, I'm obviously completely convinced this will be the happiest I'm allowed to be all season. There's no way I get to coast through the rest of the year in a blissful state of euphoria, right? In fact, I'm going to go ahead and predict that things will go horribly wrong in September. By which I mean, cataclysmically, tortuously and mind meltingly WRONG. Chris Carpenter will fall down a flight of stairs, Albert Pujols will poke his eye out with a Sharpie, Matt Holliday will choke to death on a chicken wing and Tony LaRussa will be diagnosed with a rapidly progressing form of Alzheimer's that will prevent him from being able to tell the difference between a scorecard and a recipe for tater tot casserole. Despite this, the Cards will somehow take the wild card and then lose in the first round of the playoffs to the Dodgers.

Holy crap, I think I just gave myself a stroke.

Holy Crap.

As I write this, the Cardinals have just completed a trade for Matt Holliday. In return, the A's receive three prospects, including much ballyhooed third baseman, Brett Wallace, and right-hander Clayton Mortensen. I am literally speechless. When did the Redbird brass grow such gigantic balls? This is practically unheard of in St. Louis! As an organization that has historically overvalued its farm system, it is certainly a surprise for Cardinals management to give up top stud prospects for a big (read: EXPENSIVE) bat. That being said, it could be a savvy move that not only fortifies the lineup and increases this season's playoff chances, but also reassures Tony LaRussa and Albert Pujols that this team is at least marginally interested in winning a couple of ball games. With pricey contract negotiations in the not-so-distant future, the front office is smart to take a proactive step in addressing Pujols and LaRussa's concerns, especially if the priority is to keep them around.

Anyway, I'm far too excited to try and be analytical right now. As a wise friend so eloquently said on his Facebook page this morning, "Suck it, Cubs fans!"

The All Star Break Breakdown

Hello long lost friends! I'm not sure where the summer days have gone, but it's been so long since I last posted, I damn near forgot my password to the account. For those of you that have been around the past two seasons, you know this isn't uncommon. I have a tendency to drop off over the June and July months only to miraculously reappear right around the All-Star Game. I just can't resist making fun of its uselessness, you see! Now, you might be thinking that because the game was in St. Louis this year that I might find it a little less annoying. You, my friend, would be wrong. Even the fact that three Redbirds were playing couldn't inspire me to give a crap. (Albert Pujols, Ryan Franklin and Yadier Molina all donned the fancy NL uniform this year.) The only parts I tuned in for were the last few minutes of the home run derby and the celebrity softball game. (Editors note: Nelly is a surprisingly adept outfielder!) Per usual, the National League crapped the bed again, thereby extending their All Star Game drought to 11 years. YAWWWWN.

Anyway, much has happened over the past six weeks. Because I'm incredibly lazy and only marginally competent, I will attempt to summarize these happenings below.

1. The Cardinals traded Chris Perez for Mark DeRosa. DeRosa promptly chopped his hand off at the wrist and spent 15 days on the DL. Since his return, he's been about as useful as a third nipple. This makes the Cubs fans in my life VERY happy, which I hate.

2. The Cardinals traded Chris Duncan for Julio Lugo. Mr. Lugo has been smacking the ball around a little bit, which is a trait I can appreciate. Mr. Duncan should take notes.

3. Some idiot finally bought the Cubs. Congratu-freakin'-lations. You're the proud patriarch of the most delusional fans in baseball!

4. Speaking of the Cubs, Zambrano threw a couple more hissy fits in my absence. Color me surprised! Honestly, it doesn't even phase me anymore. Zambrano losing his damn mind happens about as often as he scratches his balls. Which is approximately every three to four seconds.

5. The Cubs and Cardinals met again in Chicago for a four game series. This was split 2-2, giving the Cardinals a 8-5 record against them on the year. I'd be far more excited by this if more of these games ended in mass Cub fan executions.

6. Rumors swirled that the Cardinals were interested in Jay Halladay. I had a hearty laugh about this to myself, as this was clearly the largest falsehood ever perpetuated by Cardinals fans.

7. Albert hit a bunch of home runs and basically provided the entire Cardinals offense for the entire months of June and July. At some point, he has to start getting really annoyed with being the only person doing anything useful. I mean, I get annoyed at work if I have to change the water cooler bottle a couple of times in a row. His position is arguably more frustrating than mine.

8. Troy Glaus and Khalil Greene started making rehab starts in Memphis. Dare I say, the Cardinals may just have a fearsome team coming together if everyone can remain healthy.

9. A bunch of guys started growing Tom Selleck facial hair. Rick Ankiel, Brendan Ryan and Ryan Franklin all look like deranged lumberjacks, which sounds a lot cooler in theory than it is in practice.

10. Speaking of Rick Ankiel, I heard a rumor that he created his own wine label. This might explain why he has sucked so badly over the past couple of months. I know that my own productivity has an inverse relationship with how much wine I consume. Might I suggest Black Russians?

Anyway, I'm hoping this laziness of mine wears off and I get back to venting my Redbird frustrations here on this fair blog. I should quit taking it out on my roommate, as I'm afraid she'll take out a restraining order. She can be so sensitive sometimes.

Dirty Dugout: Update #2

It has been faaaar too long since my last fantasy baseball update, so allow me to recap all of the amazing action of the past month and a half in two words: we suck. I'm not kidding, this may be the most pathetic attempt at organized social activity that I've ever seen. It's not even that no one is trying, because that was completely expected. It's the complete and total indifference that has doomed this poor little exercise! Yet, despite our collective lack of competitive spirit and competence, the season continues to plod on and sputter forward. In fact, I'm pleased to announce that after weeks of toiling around the gutter, my plucky little squad has joined SMA (i.e. Jamee) at the top of the heap. Based on the daily email reports I get from ESPN, the two of us have been toggling back and forth for a couple of weeks now. Isn't that exciting? Let me give you a moment to catch your breath.

And now for the rest of the standings:

As of 6/18/09:

1. SMA (i.e. Jamee) - 76.5

2. PIMP (i.e. Lindsay) - 68.5

3. NICK (i.e. Laura) - 58

4. NATV (i.e. Ashley) - 56.5

5. YANK (i.e. Abbey) - 56

6. MSH (i.e. Rigi) - 55.5

7. GRAY (i.e. Molly) - 55

8. FUKU (i.e. Nicole) - 52

9. WMPA (i.e. Kelly) - 45

10. SK (i.e. Emily) - 27

Other than my ascension from the basement to the penthouse, the standings have remained remarkably unchanged. SK is still demonstrating her complete dedication to sucking terribly and WMPA is no slouch in that department either. The one glimmering highlight of the past month has been FUKU's slow descent into mediocrity, which I relish more than just about anything. This is because I hate her and all that she stands for.

Anyway, let's move on to the awards.

Best Use of Uninjured Players: SMA is starting seven players right now that have injuries of varying severity, yet she still sits atop the leaderboard. I don't know how that's possible, except that the rest of her players must be performing at superhuman levels. I mean, nearly 30% of her team is disabled, which now that I do the math, is roughly the same percentage of her brain that's been damaged from alcohol poisoning. It's an alarming coincidence, don't you think?

Best Inexplicable Use of the Bench: NICK has three open spots in her pitching lineup, yet for some reason has three of her pitchers sitting on the bench. I can't imagine this was on purpose, yet how does that happen by accident? Considering she's only got five healthy hurlers right now, I imagine this will eventually start to have an impact. That's insight you can't get anywhere else, people!

Best Collection of Douchebags: I hadn't noticed it until now, but holy crap, does NATV have a team full of tools! A-Rod, Manny, Johnny Damon, Aramis Ramirez, etc., etc. She's even got a Weaver brother in there! If she were to trade for Carlos Zambrano, it'd be like the Asshole Apocalypse. (Which I imagine looking at lot like the music video for "Thriller", if it were staged at Wrigley Field.)

Best Use of Team Branding: Another thing I hadn't noticed until now is that MSH actually owns her patron saint. Somehow she was able to draft Geovany Soto, which for those who don't know, is who she named her team after. I find this incredibly unfair, as I named my team after Albert Pujols, yet he is currently wasting his talents with SK's ragtag bunch of underperformers. (Which is, ironically, much like his existence on the current Cardinals squad. Siiiiiigh.)

Okay, kiddies, that will be all for now. I'm off to go rafting in Colorado this weekend, so if I don't drown or crush my skull on a rock, I'll be back to check in once I return. You won't want to miss the dazzling inside information I have on how badly these fantasy teams are mismanaged and underutilized! (YAWN.) Honestly, if you ladies know what's good for you, you'll start doing something interesting. Otherwise, I'll be forced to resort to personal insults and profanity, which my mother has repeatedly asked me not to do. Work with me, people!

Predictable Happenings Often Happen In Baseball

Just when I think he can't do anything more absurd, Big "Ball Scratcher" Zambrano does something like this and totally reaffirms my complete disdain and disgusted amusement. In the Cubs win against the Pirates today, my old buddy Carlos threw himself another one of his legendary hissy fits and found himself ejected and faced with a probable suspension. It all started with a wild pitch that found him attempting to make a play at home, which caused him to make contact with the umpire, which caused him to throw a ball into the outfield, toss his glove and proceed into the dugout where he promptly beat the water cooler with a bat. My sweet heavens. He makes my job of hating him with the red hot fire of a thousand suns INCREDIBLY easy.

In other predictable news, I was speaking with my sister's fiance tonight and he was regaling me with a tale of one, Mr. Jason Isringhausen. Evidently, he worked his magic against the Cleveland Indians on Monday and successfully helped the Tampa Bay Rays choke up a ten run lead and the all-but-sure win. In total, the bullpen gave up 7 runs in the bottom of the ninth, including a trademark game losing two run single from Izzy. Oh, how I miss those retina shattering, brain blasting, soul crushing moments! As a running joke in our family, this will no doubt provide endless hours of entertainment.

As for the Redbirds, well those plucky little fellows keep right on keeping on. After taking two of three from the Royals and two of three from our beer swilling rivals in Milwaukee, they have officially taken the first place spot in the NL Central. However temporary this may be, I am really quite pleased. After a tumultuous day at the office, I needed some good news to keep me from jamming a pen in my eye. As it stands, I'm still tempted to pull a Zambrano and club someone over the cranium with a bat. It's either that or have six or seven Black Russians. The jury is still out.

SWEEP-A-DOODLE!!!!

Holy freakin' hell. The Cardinals just completed a sweep of the Chicago Scrubbies. Did anyone else see this? I'm completely blinded by euphoria. My roommate was equally ecstatic, by which I mean, she posted her very first Facebook status update tonight about the Redbird's success. And I quote, "Sweeeep it up Redbirds! Show these baby bears who's boss." I have to say, she's a loyal Rick Ankiel fan. In so much, that her fantasy baseball name is "Sprained My Ankiel". Plus, she has a shirt with his name on it. Without giving too much away, she wants to have his babies. I commend her. Bravo, young lady! As soon as he recovers from mashing his face into the center field wall, we'll be in business. Anyway, I've gotten off course. The whole point of this post is to gloat over how the Cards won three games in a row against he Cubs. What. The. F!@#??? Although we have serious problems doing that thing where people smack baseballs, run around and score runs, our starting pitching has been nothing short of....awesome? It feels weird to say. Joel Piniero isn't supposed to be good, but has been. Todd Wellemeyer isn't supposed to be good, but he pitched a couple of the only wins we've had in May. Chris Carpenter came back last night and reminded everyone how much fun it is to watch him destroy human confidence. And Adam Wainwright? Oh my sweet lord, he came back from a few frosty games early in the month to pitch a game tonight where he spent 8 2/3 innings on the mound. My phone has been exploding with fun tonight. The only downer has been a Cubs friend of mine who has expressed a bit of intestinal discomfort. BUMMER.

In any case, I'm headed to another wedding tomorrow and this is a terrific way to start my long weekend. The fact that Adam Wainwright didn't win American Idol is downright criminal.

You Had To Know This Would Happen

You see, friends, THIS is exactly why I endorse unyielding pessimism, cynicism, skepticism and any other "ism" you can think of. If my research has taught me anything over the past few years, it's that being a bitter malcontent is the only thing that can save us Cardinal fans from the soul mutilating heartbreak that will tempt us to stick our heads in an oven half a dozen times a year. One might argue that I'm only kidding myself and that I'm actually just making myself miserable for no real purpose, to which I say, "kindly go swallow a straight razor." It's science, people. I don't make the rules. Anyhow, after a rain-out on Friday and back-to-back losses to the surging Milwaukee Brewers, the Cardinals are now two games out of first place and a half game (gulp) behind the Scrubbies. This was probably inevitable, as I suppose they call them "hot streaks" for a reason. The Redbirds maintaining that early season momentum was about as likely as me winning the Kentucky Derby. (Keep in mind, I've got the endurance of a panda bear.) With both Rick Ankiel and Ryan Ludwick on the DL, it would seem that it is virtually impossible for anyone to hit balls and run around the bases like they're supposed to. (See Adam Wainwright's two hitter on Saturday that ended in a loss. Let me tell you, I got an expletive laced text from my pops after THAT little gem.) Despite Colby "much-hyped minor league ingenue" Rasmus stepping it up recently, the Cards have only scored 10 total runs over the past five games. Plus, our starting pitching has slumped to 2-9 in the month of May, which now that I really think about it, doesn't seem like a very effective combination if a team is trying to win baseball games. (Swallows bottle of Xanax.)

The good news is that Kyle Lohse is taking the mound tonight (against our old mongoloid friend, Braden Looper,) to make up the Friday rain-out and Chris Carpenter is making his return on Wednesday night when the Birds take on the Cubs for what feels like the 97th time already this season. Mr. Carpenter rejoining the rotation makes me happy for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which is that it keeps Todd Wellemeyer that much further away from both the mound AND my irrational subconscious. After the turd he tossed yesterday, (5 2/2 innings, four runs in the 1st, 7 walks,) I'm ready to tie him to the hood of my car and drive off a cliff. It'd be like Thelma and Louise, but with more conviction and arguably better hair.

Dirty Dugout: Update #1

Well, things in the "all girls, special ed" fantasy baseball league are going just about as well as one might expect. I proposed a blockbuster trade with WMPA (i.e. Kelly) for Mark Teixeira a while back, yet considering it required a league-wide vote, the damn thing nearly took a decade to process. Quite frankly, I'm not sure how much impact it has had on my fledgling fantasy season, particularly since I wasn't starting any of the guys I traded for until NOW. As a result, I'm still lodged squarely in second-to-last place.

As unlikely as it may be, SMA (i.e. Jamee) is ruling the league and has been kicking our collective butts around the diamond for this first month of play. Considering the draft was wholly random and completely out of anyone's control, I don't actually give her any credit, yet the fact remains that she is the one to beat here in the early phase of the season. Her gloating is a bit premature, but as much as it PAINS me to admit it, warranted nonetheless. Now, onto the stats...

As of 5/7/09:

1. SMA (i.e. Jamee) - 73

2. NATV (i.e. Ashley) - 66

3. YANK (i.e. Abbey) - 62

4. FUKU (i.e. Nicole) - 58.5

4. NICK (i.e. Laura) - 58.8

6. GRAY (i.e. Molly) - 57.5

7. MSH (i.e. Rigi) - 55

8. WMPA (i.e. Kelly) - 48

9. PIMP (i.e. Lindsay) - 40

10. SK (i.e. Emily) - 31.5

I have to give myself some well earned grief for regularly starting a handful of injured players over the past month. Brian McCann (AtL), Vladimir Guerrero (LAA) and Daisuke Matsuzaka (Bosox) were all placed on the DL, yet they continued to sit in my lineup FOR WEEKS. To that end, I realize it's hypocritical to complain about incompetency in my league if I'm a complete derelict myself, yet here I go anyway. My awards for the first few weeks of the season:

Best Use of a Cardinal Player: SK has Albert Pujols. Holy hell, I want to stab her in the face.

Best Use of Eye Candy: SMA owns both Joe Mauer and Derek Jeter. She is in first place. I firmly believe this is a causal relationship, as her success clearly has nothing to do with baseball knowledge or enthusiasm. It's got to be something, right? Synergistic team sexiness is as good an explanation as any.

Best Use of a Player No One Likes: Last time I checked, WMPA had gaping spots in her outfield and second base. By which I mean, she isn't starting any players at those positions. However, she DOES have Milton Bradley sitting on her bench. Interestingly enough, I was present for his first at-bat at Wrigley as a Cub, after which he nearly ate the umpire before getting kicked out of the game. (SK can attest, as she was there with me.) What a friendly fellow! It was very polished, as though he just might have done this before. On a scale of 1 to "Carlos Zambrano Crazy", Mr. Bradley is right up there.

Best Use of a Random Dude No One Has Heard Of: I've actually heard of Brad Ausmus, but I'm mentioning him here because I find it fascinating that NATV has him starting at catcher, despite the fact that only 7% of all ESPN fantasy baseball players own him. Clearly, she knows something we don't. Insider trading?

Best Use of the Bench: GRAY was unfortunate enought to end up with Chris Duncan (StL) on her team after the draft. Presumably because someone warned her about how he stumbles around the outfield like a drunk gorilla, she currently has him riding the pine. This is probably the best decision she'll make all year.

Best Non-Excuse to Start a Flame War: I had an almost unhealthy obsession with hating FUKU and her fantasy football team this past winter and I see no reason for this to change simply because we're playing a different sport. As such, I'm taking this rivalry to the next level. I haven't quite figured out how, but I'm pretty sure Prince "Fatty Fatty Bombalatty" Fielder will somehow be involved. How does it feel to know your first baseman would probably wrap you in bacon and swallow you whole if given the chance?

Okay, ladies of the Dirty D, that's going to do it for me this time around. I'll be back to check in with you over the next couple of weeks, but in the meantime, tell your mothers you love them and get a damn haircut.

Home Sweet Home

Where in the hell did the month of April go? I swear, it was just yesterday that I attended that delightful Thursday afternoon game at Wrigley, but I've been in a wedding, gone to Disney World and endured another Cubs vs. Cards series since then. Fortunately, that second series in St. Louis went substantially better than the first and we are now all tied up for the year at 3 wins a piece. Important to mention is that the Cardinals are on absolute TEAR at home with a 10-3 record on the year. After a five game streak last week against the Mets and Cubs respectively, it's almost hard to get all riled up with righteous indignation, which is just weird if I'm being completely honest. Wainwright, Lohse, Piniero and even Mitchell freakin' Boggs (who???) have all pitched well lately and it appears Ryan Franklin is settling into his role as closer. My only advice to him is, DO NOT SCREW THIS UP! Which I suppose isn't so much "advice", as it is a thinly veiled threat. Toss in Mr. Albert Pujols and his big ol' grand slam on Saturday and things are looking pretty good for us Redbird fans. The Cardinals sit three games in first place ahead of the tied Cubs, Brewers and Pirates. I would get excited, except it's not really in my nature to do that sort of thing.

Anyhow, as I write this now, the Cubs are behind 4-0 in Arizona and the Cards are gearing up for the rubber match of their three game series against the Braves. Adam Wainwright has a 6:00 appointment on the mound, which will hopefully go well enough that I won't have anything to complain about come tomorrow morning. I'm probably going to be hungover anyway, so I don't really need another reason to be grumpy. That's what my boss is for.

Huh.

Well, I haven't choked to death on my own spit the past several days, so that can only mean good things for Cardinal baseball. I know, I'm just as surprised as you are! Heck, we're on a relative hot streak, if you can even call it that so early in the season. Easter Sunday was capped off by a gem of a performance by Kyle Lohse, who pitched a complete game. Plus, Albert Pujols has just been his normal awesome self, which just never gets any less fun to watch. I suppose I could talk about the bullpen some more, but I think everyone knows I feel about that collective group of run hemorrhaging time bombs. I suppose the most important thing on the horizon is the impending trip to Chicago this weekend. I originally wasn't supposed to attend any of these games (a decision I made on purpose), but now I'm being forced to go on Thursday with my big boss from Springfield. I don't really know how I feel about it, considering I'm under water at work and really don't think this will help my stress levels in any way, shape or form. Regardless, it is what it is and I shouldn't complain about going to see my favorite team play ball on a sunny afternoon. Right? I mean, what's the worst that could happen? (Cue awkward silence.) Guhhh, who am I kidding? Best case scenario, I'm marginally hung over for my trip to Galesburg on Friday morning. Worst case scenario, I'm dead or in jail. Either way, I think the bride and groom will understand, no?

PROGRAMMING NOTICE: The Dirty Dugout

As the season gets up and running, I'm going to be performing a little experiment here at Chicago Redbird. After commissioning a wildly succesful, all-girls, total moron fantasy football league this past fall, I've decided that fantasy baseball presents another wonderful opportunity to exploit the collective incompetency of my friends. And thus, The Dirty Dugout was conceived. It is comprised of ten girls, including myself, most of whom do not have the foggiest notion of how or why the game of baseball is played. Much like the fantasy football league, no one really has a clue what's going on. Simply getting everyone registered for the league was about as challenging as solving the mortgage criss, not to mention the impossibilities of getting a draft set up. In other words, it is a complete comedy of errors.

In order to document the exploits of the league throughout the course of the football season, I would send out a weekly recap email with scores, standing updates and a healthy dose of insults to all the girls involved. After some prolonged (and largely unnoticed) technical difficulties, it became apparent that emails were not the most effective way to articulate just how ridiculously inept everyone was. Instead, for the fantasy baseball league, I've decided to periodically post updates and summaries on this blog. This not only ensures equal access for all parties involved, but gives the girls an open forum to react to my comments and defend their crippling stupidity to the public. If reading about a fantasy league that you are not participating in and that by most standards is a total failure does not appeal to you, please feel free to skip these posts. However, if you ever want to make yourself feel better about your own blinding imbecility, please do indulge. I promise you, these girls will make you feel like Albert freakin' Einstein.

Oh, For The Love Of God

Well, kiddies, we are off to a FANTASTIC start. After losing two of the first three games of the season to the Pirates, (who I should point out are so awful that they lost to their AA team in an exhibition game last week), the Cardinals have already got me prepared to throw myself down a flight of stairs and spend the rest of the season in a vegetative state. First and foremost, the bullpen is a complete and total clusterf#$k. I mean, what were DeWitt and company doing all winter? It was pretty obvious by the end of the 2008 season that we needed to fortify our relief corp with some guys that don't infest the late innings with endless variations of SUCK. Even more important was identifying a legitimate closer that could hold a lead and not make me want to pelt him with batteries. In their infinite wisdom, the Cardinals decided to do neither of these things. As a result, we have a former catcher playing the role of Jason Isringhausen and doing a mighty fine job of emulating him to perfection. With a two run lead going into the top of the ninth on opening day, Jason Motte gave up four runs and promptly caused an entire legion of Redbird fans to throw up all over themselves. Holy hell, we are in for a long few months.

Then, after a redemptive 9-3 shellacking on Tuesday, things returned to form on Wednesday when Todd Wellemeyer gave up five runs over five innings. All considered, the St. Louis arms allowed 17 hits, 12 of which were Wellemeyer's. The finale of this four game series is this afternoon and frankly, I feel bad for Chris Carpenter. No matter how well he does, his 2009 debut will likely be rendered meaningless if he can't pitch a complete game. Following a relatively competent outing yesterday, the bullpen is probably due for another colossal meltdown. After all, their only consistency is their complete and utter lack of consistency. Siiiigh

The good news in Chicago is that over the course of the past year, I've met some Missouri natives who are loyal and obsessive Cardinal fans. I can't tell you how nice it is to have a few sympathetic shoulders to cry on, particularly after this uninspiring start to the season. I have a sinking feeling we'll be relying on each other a lot over the next several weeks, as the Redbirds take on the Scrubbies nine freakin' times in the month of April. I've already been offered three different sets of tickets for the series in Chicago next weekend, but sadly will be out of town at a wedding. I'm honestly not terribly upset over missing it, as I don't relish the idea of being heckled incessantly for three days straight. At this point, I don't have enough confidence in this Cardinal team to even fight back with any sort of conviction. On the other hand, the groomsman I've been paired with at this wedding is one of the more vocal and obnoxious Cubs fans I know. Imagining the toxic tongue bath he's going to give me the second I arrive is already making the hair stand up on the back of my neck. There's a serious chance he'll have to escort me down the aisle in a wheelchair, which is encouraging if you really think about it. It means I haven't COMPLETELY lost my edge yet.

Is This Mic On?

Oh, why, hello there! Long time, no blog. Considering we're just a short 17 days away from Opening Day, I figured it might be a good idea to dust off the ol' keyboard, do some mild finger stretching exercises and figure out what the hell is going on in St. Louis. After all, if I'm going to talk about the Cardinals for the next few months, it would probably help if I got caught up on all the off season exploits I've ignored all winter long. It's relatively safe to say that my tape dispenser knows more about this team than I do right now.

To that end, I should also point out that I haven't paid much attention to any of the exhilarating spring training action either, with the exception of catching a Sunday afternoon game against the Phillies last weekend. It just so happens my Dad was at that contest in Clearwater, FL with a few fellow Cardinal fans. He called the next day specifically to tell me that he'd seen some dipshit wandering around with a Cubs hat on. And so begins another season of being tortured by the rapidly multiplying and increasingly irksome Scrubbie fan base!

Anyway, I literally have no clue who we've got in the starting lineup this year, with the exception of the obvious. Tyler Greene? Never heard of him in my life, and that's just the infield. I think I recognize about half of the names on the pitching staff. Is that good? I have no clue. The only thing I DO know is that there is one glaring omission from the bullpen that will likely spare me from suffering 30-40 epileptic seizures over the course of the year. That name? Mr. Jason Isringhausen, who has migrated to Tampa where he will presumably finish out his career and kill off half of their elderly fans in the process. WHEW!!!

So, as I've made abundantly clear, I need to do a little bit of research before the season officially starts. However, it is with a warm hello, a cynically optimistic attitude (yes, I realize that's an oxymoron) and a healthy hatred for the Cubs that I enter this fresh new season. I've got the liquor cabinet stocked and the sarcasm cannon locked and loaded. Join me, won't you? This is going to be fun.

Oh, You Poor Idiot Cubs Fans

My Dad sent me the above video this morning and even though it is only remotely related to baseball, I found the punch line funny enough to post it here anyway. It seems the Cubs are the butt of a lot of jokes these days. Apparently that's what happens when you choke away a National League best record in three quick playoff games, thereby extending your World Series drought to a nice and shiny 100 years. What a pity! Couldn't happen to a bigger bunch of douchenozzles.

Anyhow, as you can imagine, it's awfully quiet on the streets of Chicago this week. With both the Cubs and White Sox getting brutally eliminated from the playoffs, no one around here is particularly interested in talking about baseball. Which is really too bad, as I have SO MUCH TO SAY! I'm finding it rather difficult to control myself, if I'm being honest. Watching the Cubs get swept out of the playoffs was so much fun, it is quickly becoming one of my favorite hobbies. And that joy is nearly impossible to bottle up, my friends! It's a damn shame that I don't have more people to share it with. In any case, I suppose the important thing is that at long last, this national nightmare is OVER. There will be no more obnoxious Cubs fans yapping in my ear about how "this is the year" and how "it's gonna happen". Clearly, my friends, you've been mistaken. You must have forgotten which team you were cheering for.

Two Down, One To Go

I'm trying really hard not to get ahead of myself here, but the last couple of days have been awfully satisfying. A text message from my father this morning said, "Is it bad to enjoy others misery?" And while I know the politically correct and morally obvious answer, I just can't get rid of this completely giddy feeling in my stomach. As nervous as I've been the past two days, you'd think it were the Cardinals in the playoffs. Although in all actuality, this has been much more fun. I mean, I REMEMBER being in the playoffs. It is, for the most part, a completely miserable and unenjoyable experience. In 2006, I didn't sleep for three weeks. My dreams were haunted by David Eckstein, Jeff Weaver and Yadier Molina. It was heinous and awful and utterly gut wrenching. I felt nauseous ALL THE TIME. It's almost cruel that eight different fan bases have to go through this every year. That being said, after this long and excruciating summer of hearing everyone in Chicago holler about this "team of destiny", I can't help but feel vindicated that the Cubs lie on the precipice of elimination. Again, no one needs to tell me how evil I am or how terrible it is that I feel this way. I'm completely aware of how selfish and wrong it may be. Yet, here I am. A temporary Dodgers fan. What a whirlwind!

The strangest part of the past 48 hours has not been how I've served as a target for angry and disgruntled Cubs fans, because that makes some kind of sense. (For example, one of my friends called me in a drunken stupor on Wednesday night accusing me of using a Ryan Dempster voodoo doll.) No, the weird part is how some of them have sought me out as a theoretical sympathetic soul. This, I cannot understand. Why anyone would turn to me for comfort in this situation, I have no idea. My ability to remain neutral was lost YEARS ago. I mean, I think I've made my pure and unadulterated distaste quite clear. Yet, here I am. A temporary Cubs fan therapist. Who ever woulda thunk it? Granted, I'm not very good at it and end up offending someone far more frequently than I end up helping them, but still. Some of these wackos actually give me enough credit as a PERSON to commiserate with their misfortune! Huh. Sports fandom sure is funny sometimes.

This Is Nightmare Fuel

Good grief, is it STILL baseball season? I'm honestly not even sure. I haven't really been paying attention. I know the Cardinals are officially out of playoff contention, but they've been UNofficially out of playoff contention for so long, I hardly noticed the difference. It just wasn't gonna happen. So as a method of dealing with my grief and frustration over the last several weeks, I've ignored everything associated with this soul sucking sport as a whole. I've turned down really incredible Cubs tickets (twice!) just because I didn't think I could stomach the POSSIBILITY of "Go, Cubs, Go". Watching those assholes plow over opposing pitchers like Zambrano at an all-you-can-eat baby buffet isn't painful in an "aw shucks" kind of way anymore. It actually pisses me off. If I even so much as THINK about the Cubs in the playoffs, I get myself so worked up in a tizzy that I can hardly control what's coming out of my mouth. I'll punctuate unrelated and otherwise innocuous conversations with anti-Cub tirades like someone with Tourette's. Anyone that's actually stupid enough to taunt me with the current state of affairs is likely to get an earful of poorly constructed and expletive laced proclamations about their intellectual ineptitude, physical misfortune and questionable lineage. It's an instant and visceral reaction. I can't help it. I know I'm being a bad sport and acting like a spoiled toddler, but I am powerless against the burning, raw hatred. The mere idea of Cubs fans enjoying themselves makes me want to bludgeon someone to death with a tire iron. Is this normal and healthy? My therapist doesn't seem to think so, but what the hell does she know?

It's an EXPLOSION!!!!!

There are not words in the English language to express how absolutely ELATED I was on Saturday. Despite the Redbirds dropping two of three to the Cubs and Chris Carpenter leaving Sunday's contest with a strained tricep, I am still paralyzed with delight over the gem I got to ingest that brilliant afternoon. I saw with my very own eyes a TRUE Zambrano Explosion. And I gotta tell you, it was even more magical than I could have imagined. Until now, I just thought it was a myth, an urban legend. Like unicorns and fat free pizza, the Explosion only ever existed in my wildest dreams. But I witnessed that electrifying meltdown in person! 9 runs! A Skip Schumaker home run! An Albert Pujols home run! TWO Troy Glaus home runs! There were disgruntled Cubs fans EVERYWHERE! To see him collapse under the weight of his own mustache (against his old buddy Todd Wellemeyer, no less,) was one of the most satisfying moments I've had as a St. Louis fan in Chicago. It. Was. AWESOME. And the most beautiful thing was just how UNEXPECTED it was! I went into that day with the lowest of expectations. The possibility of Zambrano being anything but annoyingly effective was FAAARRR from my consciousness. He notoriously feeds off of this rivalry, after all, and NEVER loses to the Cardinals. That game was lost in my head before it even started, so by the time Big Z took the mound I had already sunk into an appropriate state of depression. (I was truly delightful company, I'm sure.) Then Skip Schumaker doubled off that first little nugget and it only got more exhilarating from there. It's common knowledge that once Big Ball Scratcher McGee gets a wee bit rattled, he totally unravels and Saturday was no exception. WEEEEE!!! When it was all said and done, 12-3 was the final and my family floated out of the stadium in complete disbelief. Had we really just seen that? Did that actually happen? I was so happy, so surprised, so VINDICATED that I could hardly stand it! That win was huge for the Cardinal fans, even if it was only relevant for 24 hours. In fact, I don't know that I've never been this giddy about a Redbird triumph over the Scrubbies. This one was personal, dammit!

Anyhow, it is worth mentioning that this gorgeous slice of baseball cheesecake might be the last joyful happenstance of the summer. With Carpenter suffering another injury so soon after coming off an 18 month stay on the DL and the bullpen apparently trying to audition for America's Funniest Home Videos, the Cards have fallen 7 games out of first place and 3 games behind the surging Brewers. Things are not looking good. However, for right this minute, I don't care. I got to see my team take down its most loathed foe on a sunny day in enemy territory. I think I'm going to just bask in that for a few days.

So THAT'S How It's Gonna Be

One thing I want to make clear is the fact that I am completely aware that Jim Edmonds (formerly of the St. Louis Cardinals) plays for the Chicago Cubs. So far as I know, he's been here since May. From what I understand, he's having a pretty good go of things. That being said, I do not need to hear from every single Cubs fan that I know every single time that man takes a crap. Seriously. I have cable. I can watch SportsCenter just like every other person in the country. Sometimes when the wind blows right, I can even HEAR the joyous sounds from Wrigley. I usually assume Jim Edmonds has done something useful when my phone starts lighting up like Time freakin' Square. Basically, my point is that I am pretty much over it. He's a Cubs player. Just like Derrek Lee, Alfonso Soriano and Sucky Dome, I hope he doesn't hit home runs against the Cardinals. Does it make it any more painful when he does? I don't necessarily think so. A bitter pill is a bitter pill no matter who the nurse.

Anyhow, I'm already tired of this weekend and it hasn't even hardly started. My Dad and I were talking at dinner and think we're both doomed before we start. By which I mean we are pissed off before we even arrive at the gates of Wrigley. It's going to be a long day. If my Dad ends up murdering someone we are all in for a treat on Monday. Special Chicago Redbird "Jailbreak Addition"!

This Is Going To Suck

I am in for a very long weekend. Regardless of how things actually end up going for the Cardinals, I'm going to be a total nervous wreck. As the Redbirds prepare for their first trip to Wrigley this year, they are 6 games back from the Cubs and one game behind the second place Brewers. In terms of important games, it doesn't get much more significant than this. A sweep in either direction would be momentous as it would either toss us into the cellar or inch us back up into the pennant race. I'm actually getting nauseous just thinking about it.

Anyway, I'm going to try and ignore the Looper vs. Lilly match up this afternoon for the sake of my own mental health and sanity. My folks blow into town tonight, along with some of the most obnoxious Cubs fans I've ever had the distinct displeasure of knowing. We are all attending tomorrow afternoon's Wellemeyer vs. Zambrano contest and my attitude is as sour as a box of lemons soaked in battery acid. I mean, there is not one little bit of me that thinks I'm going to see a win. In fact, I'm not even sure why I'm going. I will inevitably sit there all day like a time bomb of anxiety only to be heckled incessantly by fair weather Jim Edmonds sycophants. It's going to be excruciating. The only thing I can hope for is a legendary Zambrano Explosion. The way things have been going, we're going to need to score approximately 37 runs.

Speaking of which, it appears as though Jason Isringhausen has finally completed his colossal and humiliating fall from grace. (Which has resembled someone tripping over a crack in the sidewalk, scuffing his knee, pulling himself back up only to run into a pole and fall into a trash can which tips over and rolls into the street before getting crushed by a dump truck.) After playing games with my heart (literally!) all year long, his giant choke job against the Dodgers on Tuesday night pretty much crushed any illusion I still had that he could legitimately throw baseballs for money. Now, I know I give Izzy a hard time and regularly mock his uncanny abilitiy to induce heart failure, but this whole situation is lamentable and incredibly sad. He's been a huge asset to this team and has contributed immeasurably to the success in St. Louis over the last few years. It's really unfortunate his legacy as a Cardinal closer has to end with the kind of catastrophe demonstrated on Tuesday night. Worse, is that scenarios like that have become so increasingly common over the course of the last few season. At this point, we just EXPECT him to give up 6 runs in the ninth inning. Which is fine, as long as Ryan Ludwick and Albert Pujols are in the mood to crush monster home runs into the bleachers. However, that's not always going to be the case. It's time to start figuring out an alternative plan that does NOT rely on walk off homers and prayer. Now that the starting rotation is slowly returning to form with Carpenter's return and Wainwright's rehab assignment, someone needs to do something to make the bullpen appear more like a "relief corp" and less like an "execution squad". I think there's actually some talent in there somewhere if only they'd stop panicking like asthmatics at a bowling alley. I'm convinced at this point that, while Franklin, Thompson, Springer and Co. are not quite emulating Izzy, they are EMPATHIZING with him. Those are sympathy meatballs, kids. And it must stop! Izzy's self image and confidence issues are not your problem, gentleman! Let's get it together!

In any case, I'm just hoping this weekend isn't a complete failure. It'd be nice to watch a couple of games and enjoy a couple of beers without having an idiot Cubs fan in my face every other second. The thought of that is almost laughable in it's naivety, as I suppose that's just the way it is. After all, no day at the ballpark is complete without telling a good "Cards take in the Pujols" joke. Jesus...I'm annoyed already. If I make it through Sunday without lighting someone on fire, I think I should be declared eligible for a Nobel prize.