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Showing posts with label Damnit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Damnit. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Hindsight is 20/20: Out of the Blue! The Remarkable Story of the 2003 Cubs

So the other day I'm cleaning out my closet and I find this little nugget of gold:

I got this book for Christmas my freshman year of high school. It's the usual Tribune puff piece about a "remarkable season" and someone in my family felt it was the perfect gift for me. At the time I was too bitter to give it more than a passing glance and just tossed it away. Five years later, its pure comedy gold.

After a one page dedication to Jerome Holtzman that featured this amusing picture of him and Don Zimmer,:

the book opens with an introduction from, who else, Johnnie B. "Dusty" Baker. Well, one page is the introduction from Dusty. The next page is a damn near life-size full page picture of his head. For a 54 year old dude, he sure had a lot of acne. The introduction, titled "This is just the beginning," contains such gems as the following:

"I always felt it was preordained for me to come to Chicago. When my mother -in-law was on her deathbed a few years ago, she predicted I would wind up in Chicago."

The next question, of course, is whether Dusty's mother-in-law predicted Neifi Perez. Also, apparently Dusty's mother in law was prescient enough in her dying moments to predict that Don Baylor would lose his job and San Fransisco would run Dusty out of town. Nice.

"I didn't expect to win a division title in the first year, to be honest."

None of the fans did either, Dusty. Nor did we expect it again any time after May 2004. Nor do we expect the 2009 NL Central Champion Cincinnati Reds. I wonder why.

"We're disappointed right now because we had an opportunity to go to the World Series and it didn't happen for us. You're always disappointed when you come this close and you don't get there, but thats how life is. We'll bounce back."

Getting close and not getting there actually IS how life is when you're managed by Dusty Baker, ask the 2002 Giants, who had a 5-0 lead in the 7th inning of game six of the World Series, but managed to blow that lead and game seven. Or the 2003 Cubs, who were 5 outs away from a World Series berth. Or the 2004 Cubs, with a 1.5 game lead in the wild card, going 1-7 to sputter out of the playoff picture. But hey, if bouncing back is steadily declining from 5 outs away from the World Series to 66-96 just three short seasons later, then Nail on the Head.

After Dusty's intro, Mike Downey writes a piece that manages to talk more about Hillary Clinton than the 2003 season, including such wit as:

"For example, [Clinton] was asked, suppose there was a World Series between the New York Yankees and the Chicago Cubs."

"Well it's not a likely scenario," Clinton said, drawing a laugh from the upstate New York audience, "but get back to me if it it happens."

World Series championships for the New York Yankees since Clinton's election as senator in November 2000: 0

World Series championships for the Chicago Cubs since November 2000: 0. F&%k off Hillary. F&% off, upstate New York audience.

After Downey's brilliance, Rick Morrissey adds his usual...crap with a piece called "A team with a little something extra" (my shift key's not broken, apparently the Trib doesn't believe in capitalizing important words in titles), in which he praises, of all things, Dusty's f*&king pixie dust, saying:

"One morning in early September, the Cubs' manager walked around in the infield and outfield at Wrigley Field, sprinkling a gray, powdery substance. That was the day he finally got it. That was the day he understood that all the wretched history and all those long memories were bigger than he was, bigger than any motivational speech, bigger than any decision to turn to the bullpen."

Or decision not to turn to the bullpen. In game 6. With your 23 year old starting pitcher melting down. But hey, I like this. Maybe that was the moment Dusty decided pixie dust was a better option than, say, walking out to the mound in the 8th inning of game six and calming your team down. He stood no chance if he talked to them, I mean all those guys who, other than Sosa were in their first or second year with the team, were plagued by the "wretched history and long memories" of the Cubs title drought.

"Besides, no one can say for sure that the unknown substance didn't suck up all the bad vibes and render them ineffective."

I can. I can say that. Everything about the Dusty Baker Era gave me "bad vibes."

"The recipe for this team was one part talent and two parts grit, with a pinch of magic dust."

Or four parts awesome starting pitching, one part shitty bullpen, nine parts poor plate approach, and one part awful, "aw shucks," Hank Aaron fellatin' managing.

After the miserable intros, the first chapter is titled "Dusty's Road." It includes such insight into the Cubs managerial hiring process as "All along Jim's first choice was Dusty Baker. His second choice was Dusty Baker, and his third choice was Dusty Baker." Well shit, it sucks that we had to settle for his third choice. It also includes this hilarious anecdote about Dusty:

"He didn't want to hear about billy goats, curses, day games or any of the other excuses that that been put forth annually as impediments to the Cubs."

That's why he spread around magic pixie dust, said white players couldn't play as well as blacks and Latinos in the heat of day games, made constant excuses about not being able to win because he was missing his horses, and of course, bitching about day games: With more night games at home, "You get to do 'life stuff,' like go to the laundry, go to the bank, go to the car wash, go shopping," Baker said. "Things you don't get a chance to do when you're playing day games. You're always conscious here of oversleeping because you can wake up in a panic, especially if it's cloudy and dark outside, and you're like, 'Oh, man.' Or if it gets sunny real early, you're jumping out of bed at 6 o'clock."

The next chapter talks about the roster changes between 2002 and 2003 and is mostly a snooze fest other than:

"Center-fielder Corey Patterson had chafed under Don Baylor's tough love approach, but Baker's unwavering and oft-stated belief in him unlocked Patterson's vast potential."

And after spending 4 of his 7 full major league seasons with Dusty's unwavering and oft-stated belief, Patterson's unlocked potential gave him a career line that stands at .253/.291/.407. Nice "unlocking." If Dusty were the guy charged with getting the money out of the safe during a heist, he'd be caught by the police sitting at the bar stealing the toothpicks.

The next chapter, titled "STILL THE MAN" (all caps this time), focuses on Sammy Sosa's 2003 campaign and mentions how the clubhouse loved Sammy's boombox (you know, the one Kerry Wood destroyed with a bat), and the final paragraph:

"Could Dusty Baker picture the day when Sosa no longer would be the Cubs' right-fielder? The answer was simple: "No.""

Weird, because just a year later he failed to manage Sosa's prima donna attitude, despite that area supposedly being his "talent," and the man who was arguably the most popular figure in Cubs history was run out of down while Dusty sat on his ass and let the team crumble around him.

The next few chapters deal with the Yankees series and the trades for Ramirez, Lofton, and Simon and are fairly BS free compared to the rest of the book. Then we get to the chapter about Mark Prior, entitled "ACE OF CUBS," which starts:

"You could have forgiven Cubs fans if they saw a championship season flashing before their eyes on the afternoon of July 11. In fact, you could have forgiven them if they thought the next decade would be ruined as well. Mark Prior, the Cubs' best young pitcher sing Kerry Wood, had run into Atlanta second baseman Marcus Giles on the basepaths, somersaulting over Giles and crashing onto his pitching shoulder. "

Well, fortunately our cautious manager pulled Prior from the game and certainly didn't run him back out to the mound to start the next inn-what? He did?? And it turned out that injury did in fact begin the gradual destruction of Prior's career? Well, this whole chapter about Mark Prior shaking off injury to pitch the Cubs into the playoffs seems a bit absurd then.

The next few chapters after that deal with Kerry Wood finally overcoming his injury problems to become a dominant starter, which just fills me with more sadness than I can bear right now, and the 5 game series against the Cardinals, which, admittedly fills me with joy to this day. Then there's a chapter titled "THE FINAL PUSH" in which it describes, without noting the many ways Dusty f*&ked up a division that should have been clinched with at least a week to go, the last month, and includes a quote from Shawn Estes:

"That's one of the major reasons I came here, because I knew Dusty would be in my corner."

Well, that, and the fact that no team not managed by the veteran enabling Dusty would have allowed your god awful 5.10 ERA and 1.581 WHIP from 2002 to guarantee you 28 starts.

The last two chapters cover the Atlanta series and, of course, the NLCS, which ends with Dusty's nonchalant:

"Is it disappointing? Yeah, it's disappointing because we wanted to go to the World Series. But life is full of disappointments sometimes, and you've got to build something for the future."

And build on that disappointment Dusty did. With disappointment, after disappointment, after heaping, flaming, catastrophic disappointment.

After the chapters, there's a nice breakdown of the playoff roster that features such hilarity as describing Kyle Farnsworth as a "dependable right-handed set-up man," saying Mike Remlinger had "dependable late-game savvy," (but even They manage to mention that Remlinger was better against righties than lefties, something Dusty Never figured out), calling Ramon Martinez a "dependable right-handed bat," and Troy O'Leary "the Cubs' most productive left-handed bat off the bench," which is only funny because, sadly, it's true (other than the days when Karros started at first, of course).

So there you go, the 2003 Cubs recapped by the Tribune. We learned that Mike Downey can write an entire piece ostensibly about the Cubs but actually about Hillary Clinton, that Rick Morrissey is a complete tool, and that Dusty Baker was a buffoon. So really, we learned nothing we didn't already know. Hope you had fun! I'm gonna go drink away five years of sorrow now.







Tuesday, November 18, 2008

If Only

Scene: Past midnight, Ron Rivera's office, San Diego Chargers training facility.

Enter: Ron Rivera, age 46, a Hispanic man with glasses and jet black hair. He is still an impressive figure 16 years after retiring as a linebacker. He sits at his desk, torn between joy at holding the Pittsburgh Steelers to only 11 points in his second game as defensive coordinator for the San Diego Chargers, and grief at having lost the game 11-10. He plots new schemes to improve his defense for the next week's game against Peyton Manning's Colts.


Rivera: We'll have to get a rush on Manning, we've done a lot better the last two weeks (the Chargers have allowed only 15 ppg under Rivera, as opposed to 25 ppg under his predecessor, Ted Cottrell), but there's still room for improvement.

(Suddenly: noise drifts in through the open window of his office, it is Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes")

Music: ... I drive off in my car but whichever way I go I come back to the place you are...

Rivera slowly puts down his research on the Colts and looks to the window

Music: all my instincts, they return and the grand facade, so soon will burn without a noise, without my pride I reach out from the inside..

Rivera walks over to the window and is shocked to see...


Bears MLB Brian Urlacher, tears streaming down his face, sings with the music:

in your eyes
, the light the heat, in your eyes, I am complete, in your eyes I see the doorway to a thousand churches, in your eyes the resolution of all the fruitless searches, in your eyes I see the light and the heat, in your eyes oh, I want to be that complete I want to touch the light the heat I see in your eyes

Ron Rivera: Brian? Brian, is that you?
Urlacher (shuts off the music): Ron! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!! We need you. Hell, I need you. I'm a mess without ya. I miss you so damn much. I miss being with you. I miss being near you! I miss your laugh! I miss – I miss your scent. I miss your musk.

Ron Rivera: Brian, please. I'm with the Chargers now. I know we had some good times but Lovie didn't want me there anymore.

Urlacher: This isn't about Lovie or Bob Babich or anybody, well, actually that's entirely what this is about, but it's also about you, Ron. And its about me! I need you back! You made me whole. I'm not me without you, and honestly, ask yourself if you're really You.

Ron Rivera: I...I don't really like Norv Turner, I mean his brother Ron can sometimes be a douche and a half, but he never had the authority to mess with me. But Norv, whenever he drags his leathery pockmarked handbag of a face over here I just wanna smack him with a clipboard. And Luis Castillo's roid rage is sometimes uncomfortable for all of us...

Urlacher: Then come back Ron! Chicago is your home!

Ron Rivera: Maybe someday Brian, maybe someday.

End Scene.

Scene: Same time, Bob Babich's office, Chicago. Bob Babich, Caveman, sits at his desk writing away frantically. He looks up in maniacal delight.


Babich: We'll see how they like this new defense!

If I put everyone right in front of the first down line, they can't Possibly get one!



Sunday, December 9, 2007

If Desperation had a Team..

It would be the Bears. How do I equate their rapid decline this season? The Bears this year are like a fancy wooden ship. It was rushed to be put together by the finest designers with the newest available materials. It was sleek, fast, and impressive. A year later, it still looked just as impressive, but the materials it had been made from had hollowed out and become rotten. On the outside, it still looked like that sleek, world changing ship, but on the inside it was a fragile core. Knock a few key timbers out of the way (Mike Brown, Dusty Dvoracek), find out that one's unstable (Rex Grossman), replace it with an even shoddier piece of timber (Brian Griese) and have the ship's main mast (Brian Urlacher) begin to quake with rot (arthritic back) and before long your ship goes from this:

To this:

Now what do we do? Well, there really are no simple fixes. Here are suggestions

Offense-
First off, what to do with the quarterback position. Griese and his $20 million contract are gone, as he's not even a serviceable backup at this point. A new veteran backup will probably need to be signed, though early indications are the market will be slim. The team also needs to decide what to do with Rex. My suggestion is, since he's likely to come dirt cheap at this point, they sign him to a one year deal with an option for a second and make him the tentative starter. We also need to get Kyle a few snaps or, dare we say, a few starts, these last three games to see if he has value as a trade bait or as a reliable #2 QB or even starter next year. My suggestion: Re-sign Rex, make Kyle and Rex compete in camp next year, and then draft a quarterback in the lower rounds of this year's draft to compete. This should be a deep QB draft, and a decent option should be available outside the first round.

The main problem with this offense, however, is the offensive line. Fred Miller, John Tait, and Ruben Brown need to be cut. Metcalf and Garza can still be serviceable guards and Kreutz is still solid at center. But both tackles need to be replaced, one most likely in free agency and the other in the first or second round of the draft. A retooled offensive line goes a long way towards getting this team back to responsibility. Quarterback can be patched up for one more year, our runningbacks have proven to be reliable when blocked for, and our tight ends our fantastic. Muhsin Muhammed probably needs to retire, Mark Bradley needs more playing time, and Berrian needs to be more consistent, but this wide receiver corps still shows potential.

Defense-

Well, the secondary at this point would seem to be problem number one. Mike Brown is done, and we just need to accept that. The Adam Archuletta experiment has failed, and Danieal Manning has yet to actually Make a tackle in his NFL career. Our first round pick, therefore, should be for the best safety available. A free agent option, or anything thats an upgrade over the mess we have at safety, might also help, but both starters need replacing.

At linebacker, Urlacher will play till he dies and none of us can deny him that right. Hopefully we can just shut him down these last three games and give him treatment for his back. Lance Briggs needs to be re-signed immediately. Hunter Hillenmeyer has played surprisingly well, but an upgrade with better pursuit against the run would be appreciated. (J Leman).

On the defensive line the Bears have still generated a good number of sacks this year, and healthy Tommie Harris next year will only improve that. The weakness against the run needs to be addressed with a new d-tackle opposite of Harris, and Darwin Walker needs to be dropped.

So, if you're keeping score, thats two new offensive tackles, a new defensive tackle, a new linebacker, a new quarterback?, and two new safeties, and, on the unlikely chance that all of those new players work out, this team can be back to where it was.

The only problem is, thats 7 new players at the least, and thats one more draft pick than we have (gave one to Washington for Archuletta. Wooo ha.) And chances are, of our picks in the 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, and 7th rounds, only 3-4 of those, optimistically, or 1-2 of those realistically, will be effective startes in their first year. The rest will need to be addressed in free agency, which is always a gamble in the NFL. Either way, chances are that even if those changes are made, the Bears have a long road back to success, and more likely than not the best case scenario for next year's ship is this:


Just deal with it.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Throw The God Damn Ball

Dear Lovie,

Look, I know you've been mostly ignorant of my letters up until this point, despite the sage advice I continue to offer but let me make one thing clear. You are 4 and fucking 6. Your team sucks. You have nothing left but a remote chance at the playoffs and have nothing left to lose. You know what you do when you have nothing left to lose Coach? You throw caution to the wind and you throw the mother fucking ball.

Do you see this man here, Lovie? He is the man we call the Sex Cannon, and right now the barrel is cracking and that mother fucker is ready to explode. His contract is running up, he's playing for his future in the NFL, he has nothing left to fear and an arm that can pump a football through a Russian tank. Let him unleash the beast coach. Your offensive line has proven time and again that they won't block for Benson (except for yesterday in the first half, but nice job to pull Benson and put in Peterson right after Benson had just run the ball twice for 63 yards. Yeah, that didn't fuck with the rhythm at all), so you have no run game. Your secondary has proven that it won't stop any quarterback with an arm, so you're left with one option: Go Deep. Throw that ball all over the fucking field. Either put up forty points or die trying. Don't go down quietly, running for 2 yards and punting away whats left of the season. The odds are we're fucked whether we do or don't, so let's go down swinging. Lets use three WR sets every time with G-Reg and tight end. Lets go deep damn near every down to Hester, Rashied, or Berrian. Let us follow bravely the words of America's greatest president, that guy from Independence Day.

"Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in this history of mankind.
Mankind -- that word should have new meaning for all of us today.
We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore.
We will be united in our common interests.

Perhaps its fate that today is the 4th of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom, not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution -- but from annihilation.
We're fighting for our right to live, to exist.
And should we win the day, the 4th of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when the world declared in one voice:
"We will not go quietly into the night!
We will not vanish without a fight!
We're going to live on!
We're going to survive!"
Today, we celebrate our Independence Day!"

Its time to launch the greatest aerial fight in Bears history, Lovie. Fight for your right to live on. Unleash Rex.

Signed,
Bears Fans

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Simple equations

The Sex Cannon rocks you and Jessica Alba right out of your clothes:
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+
Benson runs 11 times for over 85 yards
-
Benson in the second quarter and second half (Why, Lovie? Why?)
+
Berrian catches everything
-
Downfield passes being called
-
5 offensive linemen
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-
Any semblance of defense
=
30-23 Seahawks win.


p.s... goddamnit.