Thursday, May 20, 2004
A Baseball Diary:
While a majority of people my age were waking up for Sunday morning church, (Oh who am I kidding most of them were sound asleep, recovering from alcohol-soaked escapades the night before), I was waking up for church for the sports fan -the sacred Cubs-Cards matchup.
You see, if you’re a big baseball fan and if you’re from Illinois or Missouri, Cubs-Cards is the Super Bowl, Tour De France, Wimbledon, Kentucky Derby, and uh..the X-Games all wrapped into two or three weekends.
For me, it probably means even more because I was born and raised in central Illinois but have lived in Missouri the last seven years. For a Cubs fan, this is sort of like Dick Chaney moving to Iraq.
Raising the stakes was the fact that Greg Maddux was going to pitch Monday afternoon for the Cubs. The same Maddux who was my favorite pitcher, the same one that had just returned to the Cubs after over a decade with the Braves. The same Maddux who had been on my fantasy team for the past two years. The same Maddux I had never seen in person.
Sergio Mitre had been scheduled to pitch, but on Saturday, Dusty Baker changed his mind and decided to bring all the big guns for the Cubs-Cards matchup. So Maddux it was.
Yeah, that was the last straw then..I was going to the games no matter what. But it wasn’t easy. Up until late the night before I was undecided on going because of a bad cold that I had caught on Wednesday, and had left me bedridden for most of the weekend.
But in my mind, I figured Busch Stadium would be like my Ganges River and my pilgramage to the banks of the Mississippi would heal my physical woes.
It was possible. But mental and emotional ailments? Less likely.
The Cubs have always found a way to let its fans down. I don’t have to repeat their long, sad history. Heck, even in my lifetime I can remember the disappointments: Tony Gwynn and the Padres in ‘84, the disappearance of Dwight Smith, dishing Maddux after his Cy Young year, Brant Brown’s idiocy in ‘98, and of course, Bartman last year.
I also had seen nine Cubs games in person, five of them in Wrigley. In those games, the Cubs had been 0-9.
I was there in Wrigley in ‘98 down one run to the Brewers in the bottom of the ninth with two men on and Mickey Morandini up, and saw him hit into a game ending lineout.
I’d seen them get pounded on by the Cardinals several times
I saw phenom Mark Prior last year get hammered by Austin Kearns, Wily Mo Pena and the crappy Reds.
But I hadn’t seen them win.
The script then almost seen pre-written on Sunday when I watched the Cubs lose yet again in the most agonizing way possible.
There I was standing up, leaning against a cold railing behind the lower section of seats (we had standing room tickets), coughing and sneezing in the cold Mississippi River breeze in a short-sleeved shirt, while watching Morris and Zambrano duel to a 0-0 tie after 9 innings.
Then in the bottom of the 10th, Kyle Farnsworth starts walking and walking Cards batters. Bases loaded, 1 out and Scott Rolen up. Farnsworth throws 2 balls, and then a strike down the middle that Rolen knocks to the wall.
Game over.
I’m 0-10 now in watching the Cubs. I’m going to cry or throw up.
But the next morning, as we woke up the next day..I felt a slight glimmer of, yes there it was, hope.
If there was going to be one person to help me bust out of my personal Cubs curse, it was Greg Maddux.
So sitting in that seat in upper terrace of the stadium for the noon start, surrounded by Cardinals fans, I felt nervous mixed with a strange sense of calm.
Nervous mostly when Pujols was 12 feet from having 3 homers. Nervous when Maddux hit Ray Lankford in the leg on an 0-2 count. Nervous when he misplayed a fielder’s choice and missed getting an out.
But then he was striking out Edmonds and Reggie Sanders, he pitched out of some jams, he scrapped out an infield hit and STOLE SECOND BASE. Yes stole second. It was crazy.
He left the game in the 7th with a 3-2 lead and 85 mostly quality pitches. I was worried about the one run lead, and so was jumped out of seat and cheered when Derrek Lee hit a huge 2 run homer to deep center, and Sosa blasted another to left.
With a 7-3 lead coming into the bottom of the ninth, I still didn’t feel completely secure. But journeyman Joe Borowski got the last three outs to end the game.
Victory.
Like I said, it meant a lot to me:
-I’d been 0-10 in watching the Cubs
-First time I saw Maddux pitch and he won
-Maddux got 29 points for my fantasy team
-I hadn’t gotten a win from a starting pitcher in almost 2 weeks for my team
-I got to taunt all those punk Cardinals fans with me
I t seems almost destiny now that I will win fantasy baseball this year and the Cubs will win the world series. Suddenly, the coughing and sneezing is going away.
While a majority of people my age were waking up for Sunday morning church, (Oh who am I kidding most of them were sound asleep, recovering from alcohol-soaked escapades the night before), I was waking up for church for the sports fan -the sacred Cubs-Cards matchup.
You see, if you’re a big baseball fan and if you’re from Illinois or Missouri, Cubs-Cards is the Super Bowl, Tour De France, Wimbledon, Kentucky Derby, and uh..the X-Games all wrapped into two or three weekends.
For me, it probably means even more because I was born and raised in central Illinois but have lived in Missouri the last seven years. For a Cubs fan, this is sort of like Dick Chaney moving to Iraq.
Raising the stakes was the fact that Greg Maddux was going to pitch Monday afternoon for the Cubs. The same Maddux who was my favorite pitcher, the same one that had just returned to the Cubs after over a decade with the Braves. The same Maddux who had been on my fantasy team for the past two years. The same Maddux I had never seen in person.
Sergio Mitre had been scheduled to pitch, but on Saturday, Dusty Baker changed his mind and decided to bring all the big guns for the Cubs-Cards matchup. So Maddux it was.
Yeah, that was the last straw then..I was going to the games no matter what. But it wasn’t easy. Up until late the night before I was undecided on going because of a bad cold that I had caught on Wednesday, and had left me bedridden for most of the weekend.
But in my mind, I figured Busch Stadium would be like my Ganges River and my pilgramage to the banks of the Mississippi would heal my physical woes.
It was possible. But mental and emotional ailments? Less likely.
The Cubs have always found a way to let its fans down. I don’t have to repeat their long, sad history. Heck, even in my lifetime I can remember the disappointments: Tony Gwynn and the Padres in ‘84, the disappearance of Dwight Smith, dishing Maddux after his Cy Young year, Brant Brown’s idiocy in ‘98, and of course, Bartman last year.
I also had seen nine Cubs games in person, five of them in Wrigley. In those games, the Cubs had been 0-9.
I was there in Wrigley in ‘98 down one run to the Brewers in the bottom of the ninth with two men on and Mickey Morandini up, and saw him hit into a game ending lineout.
I’d seen them get pounded on by the Cardinals several times
I saw phenom Mark Prior last year get hammered by Austin Kearns, Wily Mo Pena and the crappy Reds.
But I hadn’t seen them win.
The script then almost seen pre-written on Sunday when I watched the Cubs lose yet again in the most agonizing way possible.
There I was standing up, leaning against a cold railing behind the lower section of seats (we had standing room tickets), coughing and sneezing in the cold Mississippi River breeze in a short-sleeved shirt, while watching Morris and Zambrano duel to a 0-0 tie after 9 innings.
Then in the bottom of the 10th, Kyle Farnsworth starts walking and walking Cards batters. Bases loaded, 1 out and Scott Rolen up. Farnsworth throws 2 balls, and then a strike down the middle that Rolen knocks to the wall.
Game over.
I’m 0-10 now in watching the Cubs. I’m going to cry or throw up.
But the next morning, as we woke up the next day..I felt a slight glimmer of, yes there it was, hope.
If there was going to be one person to help me bust out of my personal Cubs curse, it was Greg Maddux.
So sitting in that seat in upper terrace of the stadium for the noon start, surrounded by Cardinals fans, I felt nervous mixed with a strange sense of calm.
Nervous mostly when Pujols was 12 feet from having 3 homers. Nervous when Maddux hit Ray Lankford in the leg on an 0-2 count. Nervous when he misplayed a fielder’s choice and missed getting an out.
But then he was striking out Edmonds and Reggie Sanders, he pitched out of some jams, he scrapped out an infield hit and STOLE SECOND BASE. Yes stole second. It was crazy.
He left the game in the 7th with a 3-2 lead and 85 mostly quality pitches. I was worried about the one run lead, and so was jumped out of seat and cheered when Derrek Lee hit a huge 2 run homer to deep center, and Sosa blasted another to left.
With a 7-3 lead coming into the bottom of the ninth, I still didn’t feel completely secure. But journeyman Joe Borowski got the last three outs to end the game.
Victory.
Like I said, it meant a lot to me:
-I’d been 0-10 in watching the Cubs
-First time I saw Maddux pitch and he won
-Maddux got 29 points for my fantasy team
-I hadn’t gotten a win from a starting pitcher in almost 2 weeks for my team
-I got to taunt all those punk Cardinals fans with me
I t seems almost destiny now that I will win fantasy baseball this year and the Cubs will win the world series. Suddenly, the coughing and sneezing is going away.
Tuesday, June 03, 2003
Baseball Diary Part II-
Three games, three parks, three days...it has a certain ring to it, an almost godly symmetry. For the second time this season, this was my life.
Over Memorial Day weekend, Cliff, Ben and I went to see the White Sox against the Tigers in U.S. Cellu---blah blah, on Saturday night, the Brewers against the Dodgers in Miller Park, and the Cubs hosting the Pirates at Wrigley.
Game 1: Tigers 1, White Sox 0.
If someone were to tell me that the best pitched game I’d see this season would be Estaban Loiaza vs. Gary Knotts, I would laugh at their face and then steal some of their french fries and run.
Of course the real question I couldn’t shake was... are the pitchers this good, or are the offenses that bad? Scanning the lineups of Brandon Inge, Bobby Higginson, and Miguel Olivo, I might have to lean towards choice #2.
But hey at least we have the beautiful park to enjoy, right?
Err...maybe not.
From the outside, the park formerly known as New Comiskey is an impassive looking structure, a cross between a space age castle and a giant shopping mall.
On the inside, the Unfriendly Confines is a little bit more aesthetically pleasing, but in a bland, conservative way.
Not to mention that security has tightened so much, us upper-deck scrubs weren’t even allowed to walk around the other parts of the park.
But hey, at least we have a great view, right? Well, sorta, we are sitting right behind home plate....in the very DEAD LAST row. The view is seriously not bad, in a blimp view sorta way.
But hey, at least the weather is nice....only if you’re a penguin. I was wearing shorts because its freakin the end of May and it was 80 degrees when we left. In Chicago it’s 55, with a feels like temperature of -300 degrees.
But hey, at least i have a fantasy player in the game..... Uh yeah, and it’s Paul Konerko. And he gets me a big fat donut.
Next.
Game 2: Dodgers 5, Brewers 1
If Comisky/U.S. Cellular Field is an ugly shopping mall, Miller Park is a theme park.
Let me count the ways....
-The park is a few miles west of Milwaukee, much like theme parks are on the outskirts of big towns.
-Everything is very new looking, and the place is very brightly colored. Much of the park has this bright bluish hue.
-We stood in line to buy tickets for 30 MINUTES. It was like waiting in the line for the Ninja at Six Flags but instead of going upside-down at 70 mph, a guy named Bill handed me three pieces of paper. Hooray. At least there were no YOU MUST BE THIS TALL, OR YOU CANNOT RIDE YOU FAT LITTLE MIDGET! signs anywhere.
-Inside the park, there are tons of different little games and amusements for kids. Behind left field is a giant surfing simulation in which attention span-deficient kids and teens wait in line to stand on a moving surfboard to survive the danger of being thrown into....a kiddie pool.
And that says nothing of the air hockey tables, Dance-Dance Revolution arcade games, face painting booths scattered around the park, and more kiosks than you could shake a stick at.
-They have a giant yellow slide that the big goofy mascot guy (Bernie the Brewer) slides down when the Brewers homer. I wasn’t lucky enough to see such a spectacle, (et tu, Richie Sexson), but in my mind it was fantastic.
The game itself was actually pretty good, well....good for Kevin Brown. We actually thought that we would see a no-hitter that day. Brown was dominating with his fastball, making Royce Clayton look like...uh..Royce Clayton.
But with two outs in the 6th, John Vander Wal poked a hit over the head of Cesar Isturis. Wow, I have an amazing memory.
Oh and did I mention PAUL LODUCA?! With Pudge out, I had started LoDuca the past week, and he was on fire. Against the Brewers and Ben Sheets, LoDuca hit a double and a three run home run to right center field. I stood...I cried...I saluted LoDuca proudly as he ran the bases. There’s no better feeling than watching of your fantasy players homer in person. Unless its against your favorite team (points at Bryan Miller and Lutz.)
Another great thing about the game was sitting behind some sarastic punk rock-looking Brewers fans during the game who actually had some funny heckles.
Say what you want about winning, but the best jokes come from losers.
INTERLUDE:
On Sunday night we ended up playing a game of Street Ball in part of NorthSide Chicago.
It was hilarious, because we walked to a school basketball court across from Heupel’s apartment to play, and a cop drove by within 10 seconds and made us leave.
Eric and I, rebels that we are, went back to the court a minute later in defiance of Chicago PD while Cliff and crew stayed on the porch of the apartment.
While we were shooting around, Eric goes, “Run, the cops are back!”, and without thinking I follow him in sprinting behind a dark building.
Turns out it was a white minivan. Embarrasing isn’t a decriptive enough of a word.
Anyway, we ended up shoving all six of us in a car and drove 1/2 mile to another court in the middle of the city.
There we played some hardcore midnight white-boy street ball. And I (with the help of Ben and Eric) won all three games, including a stunning comeback from a 15-9 deficit.
I love this game.
Game 3: Pirates 10, Cubs 1
ARGH! I can’t see! My eyes, they burn! Help!
These were a few of the exclamations I uttered within the first three innings of the Cubs-Pirates game.
Why?
We were smart enough to try and buy tickets to the game, (on Memorial Day when no one has anything else to do), five minutes after it started.
So the six of us, me, Cliff, Ben, Jeff, Eric and his girlfriend ended up with standing room only tickets, which meant we got to stand in the back with 5,000 of our best friends.
It sucked.
I really don’t have much to say about this game. Four of us left in the fourth inning after we were booted from some empty seats and went to watch it on TV.
Thankfully we didn’t miss much. As I ate at Wolfy’s restaurant, I watched Juan Cruz and Alfonseca walk in THREE RUNS and allow a 9-run eighth inning.
The Cubs record when I watch them in person 0-7. Hold the jokes please.
Three games, three parks, three days...it has a certain ring to it, an almost godly symmetry. For the second time this season, this was my life.
Over Memorial Day weekend, Cliff, Ben and I went to see the White Sox against the Tigers in U.S. Cellu---blah blah, on Saturday night, the Brewers against the Dodgers in Miller Park, and the Cubs hosting the Pirates at Wrigley.
Game 1: Tigers 1, White Sox 0.
If someone were to tell me that the best pitched game I’d see this season would be Estaban Loiaza vs. Gary Knotts, I would laugh at their face and then steal some of their french fries and run.
Of course the real question I couldn’t shake was... are the pitchers this good, or are the offenses that bad? Scanning the lineups of Brandon Inge, Bobby Higginson, and Miguel Olivo, I might have to lean towards choice #2.
But hey at least we have the beautiful park to enjoy, right?
Err...maybe not.
From the outside, the park formerly known as New Comiskey is an impassive looking structure, a cross between a space age castle and a giant shopping mall.
On the inside, the Unfriendly Confines is a little bit more aesthetically pleasing, but in a bland, conservative way.
Not to mention that security has tightened so much, us upper-deck scrubs weren’t even allowed to walk around the other parts of the park.
But hey, at least we have a great view, right? Well, sorta, we are sitting right behind home plate....in the very DEAD LAST row. The view is seriously not bad, in a blimp view sorta way.
But hey, at least the weather is nice....only if you’re a penguin. I was wearing shorts because its freakin the end of May and it was 80 degrees when we left. In Chicago it’s 55, with a feels like temperature of -300 degrees.
But hey, at least i have a fantasy player in the game..... Uh yeah, and it’s Paul Konerko. And he gets me a big fat donut.
Next.
Game 2: Dodgers 5, Brewers 1
If Comisky/U.S. Cellular Field is an ugly shopping mall, Miller Park is a theme park.
Let me count the ways....
-The park is a few miles west of Milwaukee, much like theme parks are on the outskirts of big towns.
-Everything is very new looking, and the place is very brightly colored. Much of the park has this bright bluish hue.
-We stood in line to buy tickets for 30 MINUTES. It was like waiting in the line for the Ninja at Six Flags but instead of going upside-down at 70 mph, a guy named Bill handed me three pieces of paper. Hooray. At least there were no YOU MUST BE THIS TALL, OR YOU CANNOT RIDE YOU FAT LITTLE MIDGET! signs anywhere.
-Inside the park, there are tons of different little games and amusements for kids. Behind left field is a giant surfing simulation in which attention span-deficient kids and teens wait in line to stand on a moving surfboard to survive the danger of being thrown into....a kiddie pool.
And that says nothing of the air hockey tables, Dance-Dance Revolution arcade games, face painting booths scattered around the park, and more kiosks than you could shake a stick at.
-They have a giant yellow slide that the big goofy mascot guy (Bernie the Brewer) slides down when the Brewers homer. I wasn’t lucky enough to see such a spectacle, (et tu, Richie Sexson), but in my mind it was fantastic.
The game itself was actually pretty good, well....good for Kevin Brown. We actually thought that we would see a no-hitter that day. Brown was dominating with his fastball, making Royce Clayton look like...uh..Royce Clayton.
But with two outs in the 6th, John Vander Wal poked a hit over the head of Cesar Isturis. Wow, I have an amazing memory.
Oh and did I mention PAUL LODUCA?! With Pudge out, I had started LoDuca the past week, and he was on fire. Against the Brewers and Ben Sheets, LoDuca hit a double and a three run home run to right center field. I stood...I cried...I saluted LoDuca proudly as he ran the bases. There’s no better feeling than watching of your fantasy players homer in person. Unless its against your favorite team (points at Bryan Miller and Lutz.)
Another great thing about the game was sitting behind some sarastic punk rock-looking Brewers fans during the game who actually had some funny heckles.
Say what you want about winning, but the best jokes come from losers.
INTERLUDE:
On Sunday night we ended up playing a game of Street Ball in part of NorthSide Chicago.
It was hilarious, because we walked to a school basketball court across from Heupel’s apartment to play, and a cop drove by within 10 seconds and made us leave.
Eric and I, rebels that we are, went back to the court a minute later in defiance of Chicago PD while Cliff and crew stayed on the porch of the apartment.
While we were shooting around, Eric goes, “Run, the cops are back!”, and without thinking I follow him in sprinting behind a dark building.
Turns out it was a white minivan. Embarrasing isn’t a decriptive enough of a word.
Anyway, we ended up shoving all six of us in a car and drove 1/2 mile to another court in the middle of the city.
There we played some hardcore midnight white-boy street ball. And I (with the help of Ben and Eric) won all three games, including a stunning comeback from a 15-9 deficit.
I love this game.
Game 3: Pirates 10, Cubs 1
ARGH! I can’t see! My eyes, they burn! Help!
These were a few of the exclamations I uttered within the first three innings of the Cubs-Pirates game.
Why?
We were smart enough to try and buy tickets to the game, (on Memorial Day when no one has anything else to do), five minutes after it started.
So the six of us, me, Cliff, Ben, Jeff, Eric and his girlfriend ended up with standing room only tickets, which meant we got to stand in the back with 5,000 of our best friends.
It sucked.
I really don’t have much to say about this game. Four of us left in the fourth inning after we were booted from some empty seats and went to watch it on TV.
Thankfully we didn’t miss much. As I ate at Wolfy’s restaurant, I watched Juan Cruz and Alfonseca walk in THREE RUNS and allow a 9-run eighth inning.
The Cubs record when I watch them in person 0-7. Hold the jokes please.
