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.

Point/Counterpoint: To Boo Or Not To Boo?

After the series in New York this past weekend, I engaged my good friend K-Dog (a DIE HARD Mets fanatic) in a little conversation about the rules of east coast fandom and the merits (or lack thereof) in booing players. I initially broached the topic with a casual email expressing bewilderment over the New York faithful booing my man Albert Pujols on Sunday afternoon. Her comments so intrigued and exasperated me that I've decided to post them here along with my response. What follows is that conversation in full.

Me: Okay, K-Dog…I have a bone to pick. I watched as much of the Mets/Cards game yesterday that I could stomach and was a little disturbed by what I saw. (Aside from you kicking our ass, that is.) You guys were booing ALBERT PUJOLS! I couldn’t believe it! What the heck is up with that? You can’t boo Big Al! I’m starting to wonder if you crazy New Yorkers even like sports. Unbelievable!!!

PS: I was watching David Wright yesterday and you know…it’s really too bad he’s so unfortunate looking.

PPS: My Dad thinks he might like to have Jose Reyes play for the Cardinals. He thinks that kid might have a future.

K-Dog: We boo those who tend to murder us with heavy hitting. Chipper Jones and Pat Burrell for instance. We hate them. See, the importance and very backbone of New York sports fandom is this: we appreciate good baseball/football/insert sport here, when it benefits us only. And more often than not, as long as you performed well for us while you were here, we welcome you with open arms even when you perform well for an opposing team. Mike Piazza, for example - it might have been the first ever opposing team curtain call by a player in history. He hit a home run against the Mets on his first trip back to Shea and his loyal New York fans requested a curtain call after he took the the lead from us. We are fiercely loyal when and only when you give us something to be happy about. If you don't, we will throw you to the wolves so fast your head will spin. Slump or not, we don't give a shit what the hell is going on with you - you're making millions of dollars to hit and catch baseballs - make it happen.

As for Pujols - its part of New York baseball. When a guy hits a 2 run homer in the top of the 27th inning at 4 in the morning to beat us, we don't like him. Imagine Manny Ramirez & David Ortiz darkening Yankee Stadium's doorstep. It matters not that Ramirez might be one of the best right handed hitters in baseball. As far as Yankee fans are concerned, he causes them great pain and is therefore the devil. He, his children, his grandparents, his pets, etc. deserve whatever comes their way. It's part of the experience. We are equal opportunity booers, however. While we boo Pujols for killing us, we just as heavily, perhaps more so, boo our own players when they're killing us as well. As much as we may not care for Pujols at this time, we actually HATE Aaron Heilman, (i.e. the guy who gave up the 2 run winning homer in the 27th inning.) Loathing would not be an exaggeration. That guy must actually dread getting the call. We see him warming up in the bullpen and immediately start massaging our temples. Carlos Delgado was getting it pretty good for a while, too. Then he hit 9 RBI's at Yankee Stadium last month, tying a NY Mets record. At his first at bat at Shea that night (after a day/night double header, the 1st in the Bronx, the 2nd at Shea), he received a thunderous standing ovation.

We have simple requests: those that oppose us must not hit against us; those whose paychecks depend somewhat on our season ticket holdings must earn them. Otherwise, go f*$& yourself.

As for David Wright, he is just downright hot - it makes me happy to look at him. Plus it doesn't hurt that he's actually pretty good at baseball. You can't have Jose - aside from his idiotic dancing and handshakes in the dugout, he's extremely good at baseball and he's very entertaining to watch. And speaking of good at baseball, have you seen my new best friend Fernando Tatis? The man is on a serious hot streak. It seems singles are no longer good enough - doubles, triples and homers seem to be much more preferable for him.

Me: I think you could have summarized all of that quite succinctly just by saying “New York sports fans are crazy lunatics.” I didn’t realize there was such a method to your madness! Do you all receive some kind of manual at birth?

I just really HATE booing. My argument here is three-fold:

First of all, the way New York treats its athletes makes me want to have you all treated for bi-polar disorder. I sincerely empathize with anyone who plays on the east coast. It takes a special person to be able to tune that out and just try and do your job. In all reality, there are probably very few who are either a) super-humanly talented enough or b) strong minded enough to get through a stint out there without having batteries thrown at them or requiring therapy. When it’s good, it’s good, but when it’s BAD??? Jesus. These guys damn near have to put their families in protective custody. And that’s all before the media gets a hold of them! It’s a bit silly, no? Trying to find guys resilient enough to handle that has to significantly shrink your talent pool.

Second, I understand booing total assholes. (Perfect example: Carlos Zambrano!) But booing someone just because they are a good athlete and do not play for your team makes absolutely no sense. I may not look forward to people like Carlos Beltran coming to the plate, but for crying out loud…I think the man has earned his respect from Cardinals fans over the years. He’s not raped my sister, set my house on fire or otherwise done anything to me personally to inspire actual vitriol. Therefore, while I sincerely hope he strikes out, he’s f@#$ing GOOD. I’ve got to appreciate that even if I don’t necessarily LIKE it. What is my booing really going to do about it anyway?

Third, I don’t believe any professional athlete ever truly earns their paycheck. No one should get paid that much to play a damn game. However, me booing an overpaid baseball player is not going to deprive him of his millions OR inspire him to play better. Therefore, why waste the energy?

Basically, my point is…it’s a damn game! It’s sports and entertainment! Unfortunately, perpetual frustration comes with the package. I want to murder Jason Isringhausen 100 times a year, but it makes me sublimely sad to see him booed off the field at Busch Stadium. Where’s the fun in kicking someone when they’re down? I’ll swear violently under my breath, thank you very much.

PS: I also DESPISE fans that heckle the visiting outfielders. Grow up already, you drunken buffoons. There was a guy doing that when we were down in St. Louis and I wanted to throw a hot dog at him. Stop behaving like the Wrigley Field bleacher monkeys! You’re embarrassing me!

Stop Losing, Dammit!

It really shouldn't surprise me, but the Cardinals have managed to take me from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows in only a matter of days. Just when it seemed as though they were an unstoppable force of nature, my beloved Redbirds have spent the past six days crapping the metaphorical bed. It's been positively DEPRESSING. After losing 5 out of the last 6, including a 4 game sweep by the surging Milwaukee Brewers (who we OWNED earlier this year!!) and a couple of shellackings by the white hot New York Mets, the Cards are 4 games back and lodged in third place. I just really don't think it's fair for them to give me the illusion that they are a decent baseball team and then piss it away in such dramatic fashion! Granted, beating up on the poor little San Diego Padres may not have been the strongest indicator of talent and skill but STILL...doesn't momentum count for ANYTHING? You'd think these guys would have gone into that Milwaukee series with a little bit of swagger and attitude. Instead it looked like they were sleepwalking. (Which, I should mention, is completely possible and totally understandable by this point. I don't think the Cardinals have had a day off since January. Aren't there some kind of labor laws that prevent teams from playing for 18 straight days?)

The good news is that Chris Carpenter is scheduled to make his first start on Wednesday since he went on the DL last spring. I'm hoping that between him and Adam Wainwright rejoining the rotation that there might be some redeeming value left in the season. I know it's a little premature to give up on the year with two months left to play and the divisional race being as tight as it is, but honestly, the games I watched this weekend didn't inspire a great deal of confidence. Our starters can't make it through the 5th inning, the bullpen can't stop giving up home runs and it appears as though scoring more than 4 runs in any given game is downright impossible. As hard as he tries, Albert Pujols can't do EVERYTHING!

That being said, this slump couldn't come at a better time for me personally. I don't think I've had a complete nervous breakdown in weeks, so this ought to take care of that. Whew!

SWEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!

I may have nearly died of a heat stroke, but I returned from St. Louis a VERY happy woman. Three days, three games and three exciting wins make this another doozy for the record books. With a win on Thursday night before we even arrived, the Cardinals were able to complete a 4 game sweep of San Diego and catapult themselves within 2 games of the Scrubbies. (Who lost two of three to Houston over the weekend. So sad!) Not a bad way to kick things off after the All-Star break, eh?

We kicked the weekend off in true Trumbull fashion on Friday night by attending the Champion's Club at Busch Stadium, where we were encouraged to drink excessively. With a license to eat and drink whatever we wanted, you best believe we were prepared to get our money's worth! As it turns out, we needed all the sustenance we could get, as the game lasted for what felt like 9 hours. When it was all said and done, there were 24 combined base hits and 18 runs. Ryan Ludwick smacked a 3 run homer in the 4th (his 22nd) and Ricky Ankiel fought through a 12 pitch at-bat in the 7th for his 22nd dinger of the year. Plus, a ton of other stuff happened, including Braden Looper looking anything but inspiring. He was as sharp as a doorknob right out of the gate and ultimately capped off his gem of a performance with a two-run homer to Jody Gerut in the 4th. Fortunately, five relievers were able to combine for six innings and gave up only one additional run on four hits. In fact, despite some cynical prognostications from my mother, even Jason Isringhausen didn't totally embarrass himself. (No, he saved that for Sunday. More on that later!) After 4 more runs in the 8th, the Cards won it 11-7 and we stumbled back to the hotel drunk on victory.

Without a doubt, the coolest thing that happened on Friday night was me skyrocketing to inevitable fame after being flashed on the Jumbotron. My Dad and I participated in a pre-taped segment before the game in which they asked us what we thought the Padres were named after. I mumbled and stuttered like an idiot without a clue, which was apparently amusing enough to use in the final piece. We're still trying to figure out what they must have done with the footage they shot of Dad, as he carried on for a good few minutes about monks, robes and the color of his own eyes. We came to a joint conclusion that it's being used to entertain the vendors in the breakroom.

Saturday began with a trip to the Cardinals Team Store, where I purchased more crap I most certainly do not need. Following a light lunch of cheeseburgers, fries and pizza at J. Bucks, we hauled our buns back to the ballpark for the 2:55 start. And let me tell you something...it was HOT. We were naturally sitting right in direct sunlight and it got so toasty by the third inning that I was actually running out of places to wipe my sweat. It also got downright depressing as Todd Wellemeyer gave up 5 runs in the first two innings before finally settling the heck down. (He was able to then pitch scorelessly until he was removed in the 7th and retired 14 of the final 16 batters he faced.) Albert Pujols hit a three-run double in the 5th to pull it within 2. After RBI singles by both Rick Ankiel and Skip Schumaker, Big Al knocked in one more in the 6th to put the Redbirds ahead for the 6-5 win. Seriously...that man is a freak of nature. I don't remember what they're paying him, but I'm sure it's nowhere near what he's worth. He's like a superhero or something.

Anyway, the crew was getting a little weary by Sunday. We'd gone out for a celebratory Italian feast on Saturday night that had left a few of us a bit, shall we say...dehydrated. Combined with the impending 96 degree heat we'd been promised for that afternoon, pretty much all of us were convinced we were going to pass out and die by the 4th inning. Luckily, that didn't happen or we would have missed one of the most awesome endings to a game that I've ever seen. None of us had great expectations going in, as both Pujols and Yadier Molina were resting and Jaime Garcia was on the mound for his first major league start EVER. However, it ended up being a wild game in which the Cardinals came from behind in the 8th, saw the lead evaporate courtesy of Jason Isringhausen in the top of the 9th and surged back for good in the bottom of that same inning with an Aaron Miles walk-off grand slam. Albert Pujols was brought in to scare the crap out of people in the 8th, which is when Troy Glaus hit a 3-run bomb to put the Cards in front. This being the Cardinals bullpen (leading the Majors with 23 blown saves!) that wasn't going to be nearly enough run support. Izzy and Little Brad Thompson proceeded to cough up enough meatballs to tie things up, which actually made things far more exciting in the end. So, thanks for being so frustratingly poor at throwing baseballs, gentleman! Anyway, after Pujols drew a walk and made it to third on a failed pick-off attempt, both Yadi and Skippy were intentionally walked. Enter Mr. Miles and his big fat grandie! WOOHOO!!!!! I needed multiple martinis, a big steak AND some cheesecake in order to adequately celebrate that ridiculous hot mess of an afternoon. (I should mention that I also desperately required a SHOWER.) St. Louis now has 24 come-from-behind wins and 12 final-at-bat wins this year. I'm being told that means these guys are a scrappy bunch of ballplayers. I'm personally inclined to think it means they're a bunch of damn drama queens, but either way I hope they keep it up.

So, now...despite dropping two in a row to Milwaukee (including the game Monday night in which we nearly came back AGAIN!), we are still resting just 2 games behind the first place Scrubbies and 1 behind the now second place Brewers. This ought to make the rest of this season a complete and total NIGHTMARE. I'm tired of hearing about the wild card race already! Anyway, I'm headed back to Iowa this weekend, which means I'll be able to catch a couple more games on TV. (I'm not terribly concerned with seeing any of the people that live there, considering I ran into three different groups of people from my hometown at different times over the weekend. To be honest, it kind of creeped me out.) It would be really special if we could split this series with the Brew Crew and go into the weekend with some momentum. I suppose the good news is that either way, I'll be able to watch those games without having to deal with sweat and sunblock running into my eyes or my legs sticking to the bottom of my seat. See, that's just how I am, people. Always looking on the bright side of things! It's amazing how delusional you can get with the right amount of sun and alcohol poisoning.

Your Mid-Season, All-Star Break Baseballooza!!!

Good grief, I've been a lazy blogger this summer! Here we are on the day of the All-Star game (i.e. my favorite day of the entire season! Pointless baseball!!! WOOHOO!!!!) and I haven't mentioned my complete disdain for this mid season debacle even ONCE. I don't know what's wrong with me. Anyhow, in the slapdash, haphazard and loosely organized fashion that I've adopted this year, I will attempt to recap the last several weeks. Try to keep up, would ya?

• First and most importantly, I'm gearing up for the big annual family trip to St. Louis this weekend. I'm hoping for three things: 1) A decimating humiliation of the San Diego Padres, 2) a decent steak and 3) sub-Amazonian humidity levels. I just can't drink beer efficiently when the back of my legs are sweating.


• The Cubs took 2 of 3 from the Redbirds in St. Louis over the 4th of July weekend. I officially stopped speaking to approximately 78% of my friends and almost quit my job.


• Much was made about Jim Edmond's comments regarding his new role in Chicago and Tony LaRussa's angry reaction to them. My take? Jimmy is a Cardinal and always will be. He can (and should) say whatever he needs to say to endear himself to the Chicago public while he's here. In the end, I think we all know where his best years were and where his heart is. I will not begrudge him the opportunity to play and it's nice to see he's still got some mojo. That being said, Jim Edmonds can go suck on jet fuel. It is, by default, my obligation to hate him and all that he stands for while wearing that uniform. I don't make the rules, people.


• I spent the actual 4th of July holiday up in Milwaukee at Miller Park. If I were to indulge you in the details of that trip, you would more than likely (and probably rightfully) judge me harshly. I therefore spare us all the indignity.


• Jason Isringhausen and Chris Perez combined their respective talents this past Saturday and successfully blew a contest against the Pirates. It was both completely appalling and utterly spectacular in its predictability.


• The Brewers traded for CC Sabathia and the Cubs acquired Rich Harden. Meanwhile, the Cardinals tried to pretend nothing happened and continued to...OH MY GOD, LOOK OVER THERE!!


• Mark Mulder started the July 9th game against the Phillies and threw 16 pitches before his arm fell off, promptly ending his career. WEEEEEEEEEE!!!

So yeah...these are the highlights that come to mind from the last several weeks. Despite the Brew Crew storming ahead of us for a brief spell, the Redbirds are still planted 4.5 back in second place behind the Scrubbies. I'm planning for an action packed weekend down at Busch Stadium, so I hope all of the guys we've got playing in the All-Star Game don't wear themselves out. (Cue crickets...) It's time to start the second half of the season with a bang...and preferably not one from a self inflicted gunshot to the foot. GO CARDS!!!