Patience: Tested, Failed

You know, I almost forgot how much I hated Cubs fans until yesterday. GOOD HOLY GOD!!!! My four mile, ten minute drive home from work last night was transformed by Wrigley's home opener into a 40 minute exercise in futility. By which I mean, I TRIED to remain calm. I TRIED to keep my blood pressure from rising and the anger from swelling deep in the pit of my stomach. BUT DAMMIT, I CAN'T HELP IT!!!! YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME INSANE!!!! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY, YOU DRUNKEN BUFFOONS!!!! It took everything I had to resist ramming cars and running over baby strollers. I had overworked and underpaid traffic guards blocking me from my normal route home, thus forcing me to head in the opposite direction of where I needed to go. I had a friendly fellow in an SUV call me a bitch because I wouldn't "honk for the W". I had morons meandering across the street ignoring all traffic signals or rational thought. PLUS, I really had to pee. It was maddening. I actually went and bought a new bike after work, with the idea that I can start riding it to work when the Cubs play a day game. That way, I'm not faced with the moral dilemma of commiting vehicular homicide on a regular basis. I may have been able to resist it last night, but it was only opening day. By the end of the summer, I believe the temptation will be too much to resist.

So, yes. Baseball is back. God help us all.

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.

Was It Good For You?

Well, we finally won a game against the Scrubbies yesterday. There were homeruns (Ankiel, Pujols), solid defensive plays (Ankiel, Pujols), some reasonable relief pitching (Franklin, Isringhausen) and a great all around performance by Scottie Rolen (3-4, 3 RBIs), yet somehow it all felt a little bit anti-climatic to me. After the emotional roller coaster I rode off the tracks on Saturday, the Monday afternoon contest left me asking, "uh...is that it?" I think this reaction is a solid testament to how different these things are when you're actually there in person or otherwise 100% engaged in the action. When you are watching each and every pitch and muscle twitch surrounded by others that are just as emotionally invested in the results as you are, it changes things. Suddenly, that particular game becomes infinitely more important. A win provides unparalleled jubilation, while a loss makes it feel like you had your insides removed, rearranged and stuffed in backwards. I think this is why it's been so hard to watch the Cardinals play games at Wrigley Field over the past few years. I've had seats at four of them and watched another handful among the ticketless in Clark Street watering holes. (Which is practically like being at Wrigley Field anyway, except the beer is marginally less expensive.) Of these, I've witnessed just one victory and I'm telling you, I've never wanted to win SO BADLY as I did on those days. (In the regular season, anyway.) It has been utterly GUT WRENCHING to keep getting that same result every time I venture out on the Chicago streets in my Cardinal red. It goes so far as to skew my perception of the team and its abilities when I ONLY get to watch them lose and merely read about the wins on the internet. No matter how talented the sportswriter, there's no way to relay the intensity of any given inning. Baseball is meant to be watched with full and undivided attention because it's just more awe inspring that way. The magic gets lost in translation otherwise.

This extends to games at Busch Stadium, as well. Instead of being something that would be kind of nice, winning games I'm physically there for becomes something I NEED! I'm gearing myself up for this, as I drive down to St. Louis on Friday afternoon for the weekend series against the Braves. Do those particular games, win or lose, become any more relevant to the team then the ones played earlier in the year? No, absolutely not. But dammit, they matter more to me! And I think we all know that's what TRULY matters.

The Week That Was...

Before I get carried away with my long weekend at Lollapalooza, I just want to make some comments on the major plot points from the past week.

1. When it was all said and done, our dynamite winning streak coming out of the Brewers series ended at four games. While not impressive to most baseball fans, I believe this is the longest winning streak we've had all season. So...there's that. WEEEEEE!!!!! Of course, we followed that up with a blowout 15-1 loss to the freakin Pirates last night thanks to Braden Looper looking the exact opposite of awesome. In how many games have we given up 10+ runs this year? Whatever the number, I'm sure it's positively disgusting and I'm better off not knowing. (SIDE NOTE: Speaking of the Pirates, what is up with making our old pal Matt Morris the highest paid pitcher in their starting rotation? Matt Morris? REALLY???? Isn't he in a nursing home by now?)

2. I was in an AWESOME mood on Monday night. The Cards had the night off, so our beautiful three game winning streak was intact and I had happy visions of a playoff run in my head. I also got invited to accompany a friend to the Cubs game that evening and had the fine pleasure of watching them lose pretty convincingly to the Phillies. The best part was doing so surrounded by drunk Philadelphians in the bleachers. I really have to hand it to east coast sports fans. They are totally batshit CRAZY. It made for an entertaining evening to say the least.

3. I could not sleep early Tuesday morning. I woke up at 5 AM for some ungodly reason and couldn't fall back asleep because I was feverishly strategizing the Redbirds' late season comeback. I think that suggests I might have a legitimate problem/obsession. However, Tony and Walt should really give me a call, as I think I pretty much got everything figured out. Early bird gets the worm, you know?

4. The Cubs are tied for first place, BLAH, BLAH BLAH. Tell someone who gives a damn. And for the love of everything holy, stop whining about it. If I hear one more person say to me, "We've been bad for so long, just let us have it!" I'm going to stuff their teeth down their esophagus. Did I say anything? I don't think so. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've avoided discussing the Cubs lately because they put me in BAD MOOD. I can't argue with statistics, folks. The Cubs have won more games then we have this year. What do you want from me, a goddamn cookie? My humble opinion is that everyone should save all their blowharding until the team actually does something significant like, oh, I don't know...make the playoffs.

5. This weekend is going to be awesome. I'm going to give my baseball passion a couple days off in order to focus on another. (And no, I don't mean drinking, although I'm sure there will be plenty of that!) Lots of good shows to be seen and if I'm lucky, the Cards will start another four game winning streak tonight while the Cubs fall victim to a Mets sweep and Tom Glavine's 300th win while I'm on hiatus. I guess I'll find out when I sober up on Monday. Cheers!

Another Reason Why I Hate The Cubs

My existence here in Chicago is really quite ironic. I mean, for as much as I detest the Chicago Cubs, they sure do seem to be involved in an awful lot of my day-to-day activities. More and more often, I find them obnoxiously pervading the many facets of my life. For example, I live about a mile northeast and work about a 1/2 mile southwest of Wrigley Field. This means that every time the Cubs play a night game, I'm driving directly through all the disillusioned fans that are making their way to the park. Aside from the fact that apparently none of them grasp the idea of crosswalks or traffic signals, this doesn't usually present a problem. However, the plucky little entrepreneurs hawking parking spots all over the neighborhood are starting to slowly drive me insane. These people stand in the middle of the road with their signs and flags advertising $25 parking and I seriously wonder how they make it through rush hour without being hospitalized. The next time I have a bad day at the office these idiots will inevitably be out on the street and I will have no choice but to select one and park my car on his face. And you better believe I'm not paying him $25 for the pleasure.