Spring Training? Pfft.

Around a year ago at this time, Martin and I were sitting in the cool grass of the Chicago Cubs practice facility in Mesa, smiling and exchanging "how great is this?" looks. It was the beginning days of Spring Training 2009. Hope springs eternal, as they say.

All around us, players from every level of the Cubs organization played catch, ran the bases and took batting practice as a few hundred fans quietly looked on. We sat there that morning, as we did every morning that week, just in awe of how great it was to be around our favorite team as they prepared for another season. It's a feeling that every Cubs fan should experience once in their lives. It's called "joy." Forget the expectations and the heartbreak. Forget the broken promises and the bad offseason moves. It's grown men playing a game we all love and it's flippin' awesome to be around it, even for a few days.

Or is it?

Thanks to some things out of my control, I will not be making the trip to Arizona this year to bask in the glory of another season's first baby steps. And you know what? I'm glad I'm not going. It's awful. Confused? Good.

Here's the thing. I DO want to be there...more than I probably let on. In fact, I'd sell half the stuff I own to finance the trip if it wasn't for Mrs. J dot's silly "You Can't Sell Half You Own to Finance the Trip" rule (she has very specific rules, I know). The reality is that I can't go and it sucks. So, in order to make myself feel better about not being able to go to wonderful place described in the paragraph above, I have decided to focus on why being at Cubs Spring Training blows.

Brilliant, eh? Let's do this.

Five Reasons Spring Training "Stinks"

1) Despite being a giant desert, Arizona ain't all that warm in February.

I know what your thinking, "But J dot, it's currently 27 degrees in Chicago and the high this week isn't going north of 35, how can you complain about the weather in AZ?" First off, that's a very long question. Second off, cuz I said so. 70 degrees may sound warm when you are digging your car our of two feet of snow, but when you are there, it's downright nippy. I had to wear a jacket to each day's practice...a JACKET! I mean, it was a windbreaker and I was wearing shorts and flip-flops with said jacket, but still. Brrrrr!

2) Bunting drills aren't nearly as exciting as they sound.

Ever see a pitcher bunt in a game? Pretty awful right? Ever see him do it over and over for five days? Yeah, thought so. To make matters worse, when you get to watch them PRACTICE bunting for a week, it makes it one billion times more annoying when they whiff in a REAL game. Trust me.

3) It's socially frowned upon to drink before noon, so no beer with your baseball (drills).

They DO sell it at the practice facility, however, when the line is full of 70-year-0ld retirees getting a cup of joe or hot chocolate (see #1), you feel like you're being filmed for an installment of A&E's Intervention when you place your order. In interest of full disclosure, I only know this because I have in fact bought a beer at 10 AM under the "it's noon somewhere rule." Only one, I swear. The white-haired lady behind the counter shook her head at me and (probably) muttered a prayer about my soul as she cracked my Bud tallboy. Not good times.

4) They only practice until noon, so you have to fill the rest of your day with drinking in a hot tub and/or golfing.

OK, that's a bad example. Scratch that one. Let's try again.

4) The amount of douchey ball "hawks" and autograph seekers.

They are everywhere down there...stealing foul balls from kids (and bragging about it), screaming at players to sign their 8x10 glossies and just generally sucking all the fun out of life. Tons of fat dudes with mustaches sporting fanny packs stuffed with things they need signed for their "kids." If you are able to go three days around these asshats and not begin planning an elaborate murder involving a poisoned hot dog, a bag of lye, a shovel and a trip into the desert, than you're a better man than me.

5) Hope

It happens. Stupid hope.

Go Cubs.

PS. If after reading all the bad things about spring training, you still want to go, our friends over at College of Idiots have got you covered.

Two Down, Many to Go

Pour some of that 40 out, the Trib has some sad news today.

Mike Downey departs Chicago Tribune

Mike Downey, who returned home to Chicago in 2003 as a Tribune sports columnist, is leaving the paper. "The Tribune was generous enough to make me one of the best-paid sportswriters in the history of this business, so I certainly can't fault the paper for doing this now that times are hard," Downey said Thursday.

Tribune Associate Managing Editor for Sports Dan McGrath informed his staff "with profound sadness" in a note hailing Downey, who was a must-read at the Chicago Daily News and Sun-Times before becoming a columnist for the Detroit Free Press and Los Angeles Times, as a "wise, wry, sane voice of reason."

Um, yeah.

Wise, wry, sane voice of reason? Somehow I doubt those are the words most of us would use to describe him. He was never as idiotic as Mariotti or as boring as Rogers, but he was far from a "must read." I'd give you a list of his most moronic columns over the years, but frankly I rarely read his stuff. Here is a typical conversation I've had about Downey with my buddy Brent:

Me: You see Downey's column today?
Brent: Yep.
Me: You read it?
Brent: No, saw the dumb ass headline and skipped it.
Me: Yeah.
Brent: You read it?
Me: Hell no.

Yup, that about sums it up.

So forgive me if I'm not "profoundly" saddened by his departure. On the plus side, now I have more time to not read Eric Zorn!

Go Cubs.

Ryan Dempster Signs Deal, Kicks Fans in Balls

I've really been trying to enjoy the Cubs offseason. Really. With NCAA football, the NFL and (gulp) the NHL, I have tons of sports to occupy my time. To be honest, I've been avoiding reading about the Cubs as much as possible.

Peavy? Talk to me when they make the deal.

Randy Johnson? Please let that be a joke.

Teahan? Yawn.

Other than the brief moments of joy for Soto and Lou's awards, I have kept my distance from this team. It's my way of cleansing my mind of all the pain and hatred I have built up after another year of being a Cubs fan.

Then Dempster happened.

No, I am not talking about the contract. I could devote a whole other post to that Gaetti-ish move and maybe I will. What got my attention and raised my blood pressure about 200 joules (I have no idea how you measure BP, sorry) was his comments on the playoffs. For those of you who missed it, this is what he told the Tribune:

"Maybe we underestimated how prepared you have to be, how ready you have to be, especially in a five-game series," Dempster said. "It's like a short heavyweight bout. Ding, the bell is ringing, you've got to go."

"I think sometimes we almost expected it, go out there and play hard and we're good enough and just expect it to happen, and we'll win this series and then the next one and all the excitement will happen once we get to the World Series," he said. "Maybe L.A. was just a little more prepared for us than we were for them."

"It almost felt like it was just going to be a given that we win Games 1 and 2 and move on and go from there," he said. "You still have to play the games. You have to put the uniform on, go out there and compete. If anything we've learned that."

Sweet baby Jesus.

When I first read that, I assumed he was kidding. Not that it was a particularly good joke, but the alternative was mind-boggling dumb. Then I read it again. And again. And again.

(Banging head on table)

So you're telling me, Ryan, that what the Cubs have "learned" is that you have to be prepared for the playoffs?

Are you saying that professional baseball players, many of whom had been to the postseason before, ASSUMED that all they had to do was show up? Really? You didn't know how "ready" you needed to be? Are you kidding me? It's a five game series! You know what that means? Best of 3 wins! Who in their right mind, ESPECIALLY CUBS PLAYERS, assume you are going to win?

Were you shocked that the Dodgers even showed up for Game 1? I mean, surely if you guys thought it was a "given that we win Games 1 and 2," the Dodgers must have thought the same. Right? Pretty brave of them to make the trip anyway if you ask me.

As fans, we have spent the last month or so trying to forget how much that series sucked and you show up saying that you think you lost because you weren't prepared. Why not say there was a flu bug going around so you guys weren't at full strength? Why not say the pressure got to you? Why not say it was too cold? Hell, we'd even be OK if you told us you had money on the Dodgers. But to say you weren't prepared is a fucking (sorry, Mom) insult.

When you say "we weren't prepared," you know what I hear. YOU weren't prepared, Ryan. YOU assumed you'd win Game 1. That would explain the 7 walk, 4 and two-thirds bed crapper of a game you pitched. Awesome. Basically, you let YOUR success up to that point (which means exactly zilch) go to your head. Thanks. No really. We appreciated the effort.

Next time, do us a favor, just sign your bloated new deal and shut the fuck up.

Go Cubs.

Speaking of Being Nailed In the Head...

Rules for Celebrating World Series Win.

1) Remove Shirt
2) Climb Highest Traffic Pole You Can Find
3) Avoid Vodka Bottle Related Head Injuries



2 out of 3 ain't bad, I guess.

I wonder if they cut off beer sales in the 7th for a "clinch" game in Philly. Somehow I doubt it.

Go Cubs.

I Blame All the Lead-based Toys You Chewed On As a Kid

Dear Cubs Fan Who Ruins it for Everyone,

I hate you. I hate you and all those like you.

Go home and high-five your moronic friends as you shotgun Old Style tall boys and leave the rest of us in peace. You aren't funny. You're pathetic. Bite me. You know, there is a reason why Sox fans hate the Cubs...it's you. Tell me, loyal Cubs fan, why do you give a shit if the White Sox make the playoffs or not? Are you afraid to share the spotlight? Do you think our postseason will be any less special if the Sox join the party? How can you have such an huge inferiority complex in a city that is so obviously pro-Cubs? Sorry, that's a lot of questions in a row there, I don't want your tiny brain to explode.

Maybe you've forgotten, you knuckle-dragging cretin, that your Cubs haven't been to the playoffs in back to back years in a long, long time. Enjoy it while you can. Bask in the glow of this amazing season. Cheer them on as they test themselves against possible playoff opponents over the next few days. Pretend to have a little fun!

Openly rooting for the White Sox to lose doesn't make you any more of a Cubs fan than that nameless jersey you bought at Target, you schmuck. Giggling uncontrollably every time something goes wrong for them just further emphasizes what a sad, sad little man you are. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you should cheer for the White Sox. I'm just saying that you shouldn't care. You're a Cubs fan (or more likely one of your douche bag friends is a fan so you jumped on the bandwagon too) so stick with that.

The Cubs made the playoffs. They're in. Can't you just be a fan of baseball for one night? Can't you just count your blessing that the Cubs aren't in the White Sox shoes at this point? You remember what that's like, don't you? No, what am I saying...you don't, do you? You weren't a fan in 1998, suffering with every pitch, every swing of the bat. You were probably a Yankees fan that year, turd.

What is wrong with you? Didn't you get enough attention as a child? Were you dropped on your head? Repeatedly? The Cubs won a dramatic game last night. Were you watching or were you glued to the Sox game hoping to see them lose again? Don't answer that. I know the answer. We all do.

You're not a Cubs fan. You never will be. And if by some miracle this team does the impossible (knocking furiously on wood) this fall and you're outside Wrigley during the celebration, keep an eye out for me. I'll be easy to spot. I'll be the one kicking you in the nuts.

Yours always,

J dot.

Whew. Ok, now I feel better. Sorry.

Go Cubs.

Breaking News: Turns Out Jay is Just a Turd

Deadspin found out the real story behind the departure of Ozzie Guillen's favorite columnist.

According to two reliable sources, Mariotti, just back from Beijing, wanted to write a column on Barack Obama. But it wasn't Jay's turn to write — it was Rick Telander's — and Telander also wanted to write on Obama. And we know how Mariotti feels about Rick. Sun-Times says no, Jay, wait your turn.

And so Mariotti, showing the maturity he's famous for, calmly assessed the situation and figured he was not going to let it bother him. Just kidding! He threw a fit worthy of a three-year-old. Then this bit of greatness: Mariotti resigned, and then headed to the Sun-Times office to tape his Around the Horn segment, only to find that his security pass had been deactivated while the paper was deciding whether or not to accept the resignation. They finally accepted it.

Now that's more like it! Kudos for taking the high road, sir. Kudos indeed.

Go Cubs.

An End…And a New Beginning

Here at FOtG, I believe we’ve gotten complacent. Sloppy. Downright lazy. We simply haven’t been doing our job to bring our four readers the cutting edge of Cubs coverage. We have shirked our job, and done you a disservice. I cannot apologize enough, but I promise a brand new day has begun.

I’m talking about douchebags.

2007 was the year of the douchebag. Everybody was a douchebag. The guy who cut you off on Ashland? Douchebag. The operator from T-Mobile who claimed that you broke your contract and wouldn’t give you your $200 back? Douchebag. It was the go-to line for anyone remotely angered by the actions of another. In the American lexicon, it was the Bob Howry to your Lou Piniella:overused and rapidly losing effectiveness. The word has been used so many times and applied to so many different types of people that it has simply lost all humor.

Most of all, however, the Cubs were douchebags. From Michael Barrett to Rob Bowen to Jason Kendall, they had a virtual murder’s row of douchebags at the catcher position alone. And with Dusty still making the news in Chicago once a week last year, the term douchebag was never more readily (and justifiably) applied.

But its time has come.

Maybe it’s the fact that the Cubs are (for the first time in any of our lifetimes) actually a team that blows people out. Maybe its because “douchebag” has become just to easy to apply to anyone and everyone. For whatever reason, the word just doesn’t carry enough weight anymore. So, as of today, I will no longer refer to anyone as a douchebag. This will be my final post with the label of "douchebags." Its over. Pour one out.

Please note, however, that the word “douche” is still readily applicable, as it describes a certain type of person who simply embodies all that is douchey. People like this and this.

So, since “douchebag” is utterly played out, its time to usher in a new era of vintage insult. And, thanks to the Desipio message board and several minutes of deliberation, I have narrowed the list to five finalists. Mary Brennaman will forever have a new moniker. And I’m leaving it up to you, the four readers of Five Outs to Go, to decide that new moniker for me. The five finalists are (in alphabetical order):

Asshat
Cockface
Dicklick
Jizzbiscuit
Slapdick

Feel free to use the comment section to cast your vote. As soon as I get a critical mass of input (i.e. more than two votes), douchebag will forever be cast out and a new day will dawn. Carpe Diem.

Its Tallest Midget Weekend!

In a town near where I grew up, their yearly festival was called “Dick Tracy Days.” It started in 1990, seemingly to honor the guy who created the comic strip and who happened to die in that town in 1985. More importantly, it was an attempt to capitalize on the fact that the movie was coming out that summer. It was a bit forced, a bit cheesy, but you excused it because there was at least one or two necessary tie-ins that made it make sense and, well, people seemed to be having a good time.

This festival recurred each summer for the next seventeen years.

By my senior year of high school, I had no idea why the hell they felt the need to celebrate a movie that (a.) was pretty much a flop, and (b.) was, by that point, six years in the past. It seemed ridiculous. Yet they did it year after year. After year. After year. ELEVEN MORE TIMES. (Appropriately enough, this same town was the place they filmed “Groundhog Day.”) It became an outdated, boring, and truly pointless endeavor that no longer had any reason to exist. It was the vestigial festival.

So what does this have to do with the Cubs? Simple: the Cubs-White Sox series is the baseball equivalent of the Dick Tracy Days.
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It was fine the first year or two: at the very least, there were now at least three games a season in which people would go into the upper deck at U.S. Cellular Field. Eleven years later, the Cubs and White Sox have played 60 times, the series is tied 30-30, and this “tradition” gets dumber each year. Let me count the reasons why:

1.It ratchets up the stupid obsession some Sox fans have for all things Cub. By this point, everyone knows that a decent portion of the White Sox fanbase would prefer that the Cubs lose even over a White Sox win. This certainly isn't all Sox fans, but it describes a huge majority of the ones who feel the need to show up at Wrigley for the Cubs-Sox series (as well as the ones who would feel the need to angrily respond to this post). It is also clear that a large portion of the Cubs fan base couldn't pick Alexei Ramirez out of a lineup, and even more importantly, don't give a shit. This utter apathy the majority of Cubs fans have for the White Sox absolutely irritates the hell out of those same obsessed Sox fans, and the two series the teams play each year are the opportunity they have to “show them Cub queers what's what.” This, of course, brings out the only-slightly-beneath-the-surface asshat in the Cubs fans dumb enough to really want to go to these games. Yay.

2.There is no respite from the stupidity. For the most part, at any given Cubs game, if you avoid the bleachers you can probably watch the game without (a) the desire to castrate at least four shirtless buffoons who are still wondering why Sammy's not playing today, or (b) some kind of rain slicker to keep the spilled beer off you. Unfortunately, during the Cubs-Sox series, the bleacher fans spill into the rest of the ballpark. At the three or four Cubs/Sox games I've gone to over the last ten years, I've spent equal time loathing ridiculous “O ee O...Magglio” chants (Wizard of Oz references? Really?) and watching idiotic Cubs fans (who are probably the same douchebags who wear the “Horry Cow” shirts) try and match the level of imported south side stupidity in the ballpark. For six games, Wrigley Field and U.S. Cellular become the Mecca and Medina of stupid.

3. There is absolutely nothing fun about the games, win or lose. If the Cubs lose, you have to listen to the future William Ligues of the world spout off some utterly creative one-liner like “100 Years!” or the slightly more intellectual “Cubs still suck!” If they win, you get to hear the exact same one-liners. The wins and losses don't even matter—its like the game is secondary to the opportunity for the mouth breathers from both sides of town to hold off on calling into the Mike North show for a few hours and catch a game.


After 60 meetings between these two teams, the only thing I want to know after a Cubs win against the White Sox is what the Cardinals and Brewers did. There is no extra satisfaction, other than the joy of knowing that there is one less piece of ammo for the idiot in the next cubicle who needs White Sox victories to somehow offset the fact that he got passed over for the promotion (again!) by his asshole boss, who happens to be from Winnetka and has a picture of Ron Santo in his office.

So, in an act that symbolizes better than any other the relationship between Cubs and Sox fans, I sold my tickets (at about five times face value) to a White Sox fan. He gets to go to the Most Important Games of the Year, and I made enough cash to pay for tickets to just about every Cubs-Brewers game for the rest of the year.

Sure, I'd enjoy the hell out of a Cubs sweep, but not a whole lot more than a sweep of, say, the Mets. And I'll gladly trade getting swept by the White Sox in exchange for a 22-0 record against the Brewers and Cardinals for the rest of the year...you know, the games that actually make a significant difference in terms of which team from the NL Central will go to the playoffs. Instead, I get to enjoy ten days packed full of the only thing I truly despise about Chicago baseball. Somebody wake me when this is over.

Thy Name is Douche

So, I made it to the bar to watch my Cubs on TV for the first time. I ask my bartender, who I know quite well, to turn it on and he says he can't. Why? Because this douche bag at the bar "wants to see basketball on every TV in his viewing area." I wish I was making that up.

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So, for those of you unfamiliar with my local watering hole (Finley Dunnes), that means he is now in control of 6 42" plasmas. Marquette game. Check. G. Tech. Yep. Wichita v. Drake. Of course. And don't forget the always entertaining Purdue/Northwestern slug fest. So, instead of basking in the glory of a meaningless, yet mesmerizing game of Cactus League baseball, I'm stuck watching crappy men's basketball. Good one, God. You got me.

What's the opposite of good times? Oh yeah. Not good times.

Go Cubs.

UPDATE: Got to see Marquette blow a game, so the days not a total wash.

UPDATE #2: From what I can tell watching the "live" box score, Kerry gave up a 3 run shot to Toriiiiii. Awesome.

Go Cubs.

Go Cubs.