Crossed Up II
It was raining when my first alarm went off at 6:30 a.m., so I went back to sleep. My dad called at 8:30. I told him I wasn't going up to the course; he wasn't surprised. He said my sister was going to a bachelorette party at Wrigley. He predicted that they might last four innings, and asked if I was going. Well, hell, if my sister could tough it out in this crappy weather, so could I. I went back to sleep for a bit, and took a shower after my second alarm sounded at 10. I read the internet for a while, and left my apartment at 12:15. I hit up Starbucks for an espresso and an iced tea for the train ride. Just a few steps from the Chicago Red Line stairway, some drunken homeless douchebag slammed into me, which sprayed a giant dollop of coffee all over my left knee. (Bad omen.) I got down to the platform just as the train pulled up, and I noticed that the car was less packed than usual for a Cubs afternoon game. My brother called just as the train pulled out of the subway. He needed the car to get to a study session in Rogers Park; cool with me, I told him.
I climbed down the stairs at Addison and made quick two lefts to see my scalpers. I said, "They can't hit, they can't throw, they can't pitch, they can't win, so what the fuck am I doing here?" The four guys laughed. "You're a sick man, pal, but we love ya," Donnie said as he slapped me on the shoulder. I have a standing order with these guys: I really don't care where I sit, just get me in cheap. Late last year one of the newer guys put me in the 200-level behind a pillar -- granted, I was directly behind home plate, but my view was still terribly obstructed -- and I went back right after the game and chewed the guy out. The gist of my rant, which I delivered as the other guys nodded and looked on, was, "I am an annuity for you guys. I come here twice a week, minimum. Go ahead and make your money on the tourists from Moline, but I am NOT a fucking tourist. I will not hesitate to give my $1,000 annually to somebody else, so you better hook it up." Ever since then, the guy has stumbled over himself to give me a good deal. Today I ordered the usual, but with a twist: I wanted a covered seat, just in case it rained. Easy enough: Section 431, Row 10, just past first base upstairs, for $25. The fifteen dollar discount on the ticket reduced my dollars-over-face-value to $0 for 6 games. Really, who needs season tickets when you've got your go-to scalper? If the Cubs keep playing like they're playing, I'll end up spending much less than face value for a half-season's games. Not too shabby.
I grabbed a scorecard from my guy, the old man with the beard by the right-field entrance. We both shook our heads and looked down when I put my $2 on his stand. I know what he's thinking, and I'm trowing the same vibe right back at him: What a train wreck. I sat in the Friendly Confines cafe for the first few innings, and watched the start of the game on the flat screen, to ensure that I had the correct starting lineups. I eventually moved up to my seat in the upper deck, which was just a little down the right-field line from first base. The wind was not as strong as I had originally feared, and the sun was throwing off a considerable glare through the thick cloud cover, though the lights were turned on as a precaution. I had a big Diet Pepsi, nachos no peppers, peanuts, and a '99 Panic show on the iPod. A Cub win would have rounded out the perfect afternoon, and it looked like such would be the case for most of the afternoon.
To my amazement, the Cubs manufactured two runs in the first. Juan Pierre saw three pitches and flew out, lamely, once again doing a really, really bad job with the leadoff spot. Ronny Cedeno reached base on a cheap hit (thank God for cheap hits). Todd Walker flew out to center. Cedeno went first-to-third on an Aramis Ramirez single. Ramy went first-to-third on Jacque Jones' single (his 1,000th career hit), which scored Cedeno: 1-0 Cubs. Jerry Hairston, who hasn't done much at the plate this entire year, laid down a beautiful, surprise bunt to third for a single, driving in Ramirez and sending the crowd into a frenzy: 2-0 Cubs. Neifi Perez did what we expect him to do, which is not very much. He struck out swinging to end the inning, stranding two runners. This is pathetic to say, but for a team that's played really, really badly of late, two runs in the first is a huge deal.
Most of the game was classic Maddux. He was efficient, kept the ball down, made the most of the wind blowing in, and got the ball to corkscrew, stop, drop, and cut with surgical precision. He made a couple of great plays in the field, as usual. One play in particular stood out: On a high chopper by Adrian Gonzalez, Maddux fielded the ball over his right shoulder (it would have been the second baseman's play, if only Perez weren't manning second), launched himself into the air with a graceful pirouette, and excecuted a perfect line-drove throw, nailing Gonzalez in plenty of time. Also, Maddux reached with a two-out single in the fourth, and stole second base two pitches later. (The way he figures it, and he's right: The pitcher isn't going to pay any attention to me; if I'm out, the top of the order is up next inning; if I'm safe, I've got a chance to score on a single. The guy is a genius, no two ways about it.) Here's a first-ballot Hall of Famer who, at the tender age of 40, still goes out there and busts his ass on every single play. I recommend that you watch him play if and when you can, because he's one of the greatest all-around pitchers ever, and he won't be around forever.
After several very quick innings, the Cubs tallied an unearned run in the sixth, after Perez doubled to the right field corner, followed by Brian Giles dropping an easy Henry Blanco pop-up: 3-0 Cubs. Maddux had been on cruise control up to that point, giving up just 2 hits through 7, and stranding both Padre runners on third base.
Vinny Castilla, the Padre third baseman, led off the eighth with a line-shot to the gap in right-center. Jacque Jones and Juan Pierre broke over to it, but Jones got there first and forced Castilla to turn back after a wide turn around first. Inexplicably, Perez didn't bother to catch the relay throw from Jones, which allowed the ball to trickle lamely towards the infield, whereupon the slow and ancient Castilla ambled over to second. The theme of yesterday's piece was: Winning teams don't throw away outs. The theme of today's piece is: Winning teams don't give away bases. Padre first baseman Gonzalez grounded out to second, moving Castilla to third. Remember: If Neifi had bothered to catch the relay, Castilla would have been at third, and the double play would have been in effect. Instead, with Castilla moved over to third on the grounder, Josh Barfield dropped a ball into short left to drive in a run: 3-1 Cubs. Maddux walked a rookie named Paul McAnulty, who was batting for the pitcher, putting runners at first and second, with one away. Scott Eyre came in to relieve Maddux, facing former Cub Eric Young who (for a reason I don't understand) pinch-hit for the red-hot Dave Roberts. But Young grounded over to Ramirez who stepped on third and threw to first for the inning-ending twin killing.
The Cubs bats were silent in the last of the 8th, but no one sitting in my section was worried. In a year where quality starts, reliable middle and long relief work, and fundamentally sound at-bats have been in short supply, the end of the bullpen has proved to be the only real bright spot. The problem is: The Cubs don't get to the set up men or the closer too often. Going into today's game, closer Ryan Dempter pitched 17 innings with an ERA under 2.00, but is credited with just 7 saves. He finally had a save opportunity or the first time in forever. His last save was May 1 versus the Pirates -- a whopping 11 games between chances.
Much to my dismay, the Cubs proved once again that our team is cursed, and that this season will contribute to the Cubs' never-ending nightmare. Cameron reached with a lead-off single, and went first-to-third on a Giles single. Then, Mike Piazza proved why he's still got a job (it's not because of his defense; see yesterday's post), by just barely dropping a high fly ball into the left field basket: 4-3 Padres. Another collective groan bellowed forth from the Wrigley faithful; further proof that the baseball gods have abandoned us. My chin dropped to my chest; I stared down at my peanut shells in disbelief; there was no way to stomach what had just happened. Trevor Hoffman came on to do what he does best, by forcing cheap outs by Mabry and Pierre, and striking out Cedeno, to earn his 7th save. 54 outs. Game over.
As was the case in yesterday's game, the Cubs' offensive performance was average at best. The Cubs earned 30 bases, 7 hits, and three walks, in 32 at-bats. (Three walks! From a Dusty Baker ball club, that's like a dozen!) San Diego, hardly an offensive dynamo, accumulated 25 bases, 7 hits, and only one walk, in 33 at-bats. To give you an idea of the lack of offensive excitement produced by these two teams in this 4-3 Padres victory, the simplified runs-created equation -- [TB(H+BB)]/(AB+BB) -- indicates that the final score ought to have been 8-6 in favor of the Cubs. These two teams managed to score half as many runs as predicted--statistical proof that this game was the pinnacle of frustration. It is also important to note that the Padres stranded only three runners, while the Cubs stranded eight. The Padres are not an abundantly talented baseball club, but they are long on leaders who know how to pounce when the pouncing is good. The Cubs won the first 7 innings but lost the game, which is eerily parallel to their ability to get guys over to third but rarely home.
I blame this loss on Neifi's half-assed blunder. You really can't put all the blame on Dempster's poor performance. For God's sake, this team is so bad, he's only pitched 18 innings this year. Every once in a while, the closer is going to blow a ball game. Hoffman, for example, blows about one save for every nine he earns, and he's one of the best in the business. Sometimes shit happens, and the tater goes flying. However, it should go without saying that the second baseman MUST receive the throw from right field. Neifi's lollygagging bullshit was the straw that broke the camel's back; the single grain that toppled the sand castle; the butterfly's flight that stirred the hurricane. If he had done his job and kept Castilla at first, it's possible that Piazza never even comes up to bat in the ninth. When you're constantly tettering on the edge of disaster like this Cub team is right now, you CANNOT afford to make ANY sloppy plays.
Why did Dusty leave Perez in the game? Joe Torre, Ozzie Guillen, Bobby Cox, or any other manager with half an ounce of pride would have burst out of the dugout and dragged Perez's ass into the clubhouse for the ass-whipping of his life. But Perez stayed in there, and he looked like he was unaffected after the blunder, even mouthing off to the luckiest man on the Padres (bullpen catcher Mark Merila). Baker could have made any number of moves to replace the lazy oaf (Theriot; Bynum; Murton or Mabry to left, Hairston to second). Yet time and time again, the dog goes unpunished for shitting all over the floor, because you don't want the poor little doggie to feel bad about himself. Welcome to the Dusty Baker school of management.
Remember that, prior to this season, everyone was concerned that Cedeno and Murton didn't know how to play the game the right way. Sure, the kids have made a few mistakes along the way, but at least they're making hustle errors. What's killing us is washed-up veterans like Perez and Blanco, each of whose production long since passed the point of bad comedy. This club simply doesn't have any fire. We need DLee back in the worst way. We need his bat. We need his defense. We need Walker back at second, batting sixth or seventh. And we need to not have bench-warmers in the starting lineup everyday.
And, where's Felix Pie? If you're going to start Hairston in left a few times a week, why not give Pie those at-bats? What's he hitting in the PCL, anyway -- over .400? MacPhail, Hendry, and Baker should be lined up and shot, because the situation is incorrectably pitiful.
I'm going to have a few beers and try not to think about Cubs baseball.
Once again: Indecision is a decision.
I climbed down the stairs at Addison and made quick two lefts to see my scalpers. I said, "They can't hit, they can't throw, they can't pitch, they can't win, so what the fuck am I doing here?" The four guys laughed. "You're a sick man, pal, but we love ya," Donnie said as he slapped me on the shoulder. I have a standing order with these guys: I really don't care where I sit, just get me in cheap. Late last year one of the newer guys put me in the 200-level behind a pillar -- granted, I was directly behind home plate, but my view was still terribly obstructed -- and I went back right after the game and chewed the guy out. The gist of my rant, which I delivered as the other guys nodded and looked on, was, "I am an annuity for you guys. I come here twice a week, minimum. Go ahead and make your money on the tourists from Moline, but I am NOT a fucking tourist. I will not hesitate to give my $1,000 annually to somebody else, so you better hook it up." Ever since then, the guy has stumbled over himself to give me a good deal. Today I ordered the usual, but with a twist: I wanted a covered seat, just in case it rained. Easy enough: Section 431, Row 10, just past first base upstairs, for $25. The fifteen dollar discount on the ticket reduced my dollars-over-face-value to $0 for 6 games. Really, who needs season tickets when you've got your go-to scalper? If the Cubs keep playing like they're playing, I'll end up spending much less than face value for a half-season's games. Not too shabby.
I grabbed a scorecard from my guy, the old man with the beard by the right-field entrance. We both shook our heads and looked down when I put my $2 on his stand. I know what he's thinking, and I'm trowing the same vibe right back at him: What a train wreck. I sat in the Friendly Confines cafe for the first few innings, and watched the start of the game on the flat screen, to ensure that I had the correct starting lineups. I eventually moved up to my seat in the upper deck, which was just a little down the right-field line from first base. The wind was not as strong as I had originally feared, and the sun was throwing off a considerable glare through the thick cloud cover, though the lights were turned on as a precaution. I had a big Diet Pepsi, nachos no peppers, peanuts, and a '99 Panic show on the iPod. A Cub win would have rounded out the perfect afternoon, and it looked like such would be the case for most of the afternoon.
To my amazement, the Cubs manufactured two runs in the first. Juan Pierre saw three pitches and flew out, lamely, once again doing a really, really bad job with the leadoff spot. Ronny Cedeno reached base on a cheap hit (thank God for cheap hits). Todd Walker flew out to center. Cedeno went first-to-third on an Aramis Ramirez single. Ramy went first-to-third on Jacque Jones' single (his 1,000th career hit), which scored Cedeno: 1-0 Cubs. Jerry Hairston, who hasn't done much at the plate this entire year, laid down a beautiful, surprise bunt to third for a single, driving in Ramirez and sending the crowd into a frenzy: 2-0 Cubs. Neifi Perez did what we expect him to do, which is not very much. He struck out swinging to end the inning, stranding two runners. This is pathetic to say, but for a team that's played really, really badly of late, two runs in the first is a huge deal.
Most of the game was classic Maddux. He was efficient, kept the ball down, made the most of the wind blowing in, and got the ball to corkscrew, stop, drop, and cut with surgical precision. He made a couple of great plays in the field, as usual. One play in particular stood out: On a high chopper by Adrian Gonzalez, Maddux fielded the ball over his right shoulder (it would have been the second baseman's play, if only Perez weren't manning second), launched himself into the air with a graceful pirouette, and excecuted a perfect line-drove throw, nailing Gonzalez in plenty of time. Also, Maddux reached with a two-out single in the fourth, and stole second base two pitches later. (The way he figures it, and he's right: The pitcher isn't going to pay any attention to me; if I'm out, the top of the order is up next inning; if I'm safe, I've got a chance to score on a single. The guy is a genius, no two ways about it.) Here's a first-ballot Hall of Famer who, at the tender age of 40, still goes out there and busts his ass on every single play. I recommend that you watch him play if and when you can, because he's one of the greatest all-around pitchers ever, and he won't be around forever.
After several very quick innings, the Cubs tallied an unearned run in the sixth, after Perez doubled to the right field corner, followed by Brian Giles dropping an easy Henry Blanco pop-up: 3-0 Cubs. Maddux had been on cruise control up to that point, giving up just 2 hits through 7, and stranding both Padre runners on third base.
Vinny Castilla, the Padre third baseman, led off the eighth with a line-shot to the gap in right-center. Jacque Jones and Juan Pierre broke over to it, but Jones got there first and forced Castilla to turn back after a wide turn around first. Inexplicably, Perez didn't bother to catch the relay throw from Jones, which allowed the ball to trickle lamely towards the infield, whereupon the slow and ancient Castilla ambled over to second. The theme of yesterday's piece was: Winning teams don't throw away outs. The theme of today's piece is: Winning teams don't give away bases. Padre first baseman Gonzalez grounded out to second, moving Castilla to third. Remember: If Neifi had bothered to catch the relay, Castilla would have been at third, and the double play would have been in effect. Instead, with Castilla moved over to third on the grounder, Josh Barfield dropped a ball into short left to drive in a run: 3-1 Cubs. Maddux walked a rookie named Paul McAnulty, who was batting for the pitcher, putting runners at first and second, with one away. Scott Eyre came in to relieve Maddux, facing former Cub Eric Young who (for a reason I don't understand) pinch-hit for the red-hot Dave Roberts. But Young grounded over to Ramirez who stepped on third and threw to first for the inning-ending twin killing.
The Cubs bats were silent in the last of the 8th, but no one sitting in my section was worried. In a year where quality starts, reliable middle and long relief work, and fundamentally sound at-bats have been in short supply, the end of the bullpen has proved to be the only real bright spot. The problem is: The Cubs don't get to the set up men or the closer too often. Going into today's game, closer Ryan Dempter pitched 17 innings with an ERA under 2.00, but is credited with just 7 saves. He finally had a save opportunity or the first time in forever. His last save was May 1 versus the Pirates -- a whopping 11 games between chances.
Much to my dismay, the Cubs proved once again that our team is cursed, and that this season will contribute to the Cubs' never-ending nightmare. Cameron reached with a lead-off single, and went first-to-third on a Giles single. Then, Mike Piazza proved why he's still got a job (it's not because of his defense; see yesterday's post), by just barely dropping a high fly ball into the left field basket: 4-3 Padres. Another collective groan bellowed forth from the Wrigley faithful; further proof that the baseball gods have abandoned us. My chin dropped to my chest; I stared down at my peanut shells in disbelief; there was no way to stomach what had just happened. Trevor Hoffman came on to do what he does best, by forcing cheap outs by Mabry and Pierre, and striking out Cedeno, to earn his 7th save. 54 outs. Game over.
As was the case in yesterday's game, the Cubs' offensive performance was average at best. The Cubs earned 30 bases, 7 hits, and three walks, in 32 at-bats. (Three walks! From a Dusty Baker ball club, that's like a dozen!) San Diego, hardly an offensive dynamo, accumulated 25 bases, 7 hits, and only one walk, in 33 at-bats. To give you an idea of the lack of offensive excitement produced by these two teams in this 4-3 Padres victory, the simplified runs-created equation -- [TB(H+BB)]/(AB+BB) -- indicates that the final score ought to have been 8-6 in favor of the Cubs. These two teams managed to score half as many runs as predicted--statistical proof that this game was the pinnacle of frustration. It is also important to note that the Padres stranded only three runners, while the Cubs stranded eight. The Padres are not an abundantly talented baseball club, but they are long on leaders who know how to pounce when the pouncing is good. The Cubs won the first 7 innings but lost the game, which is eerily parallel to their ability to get guys over to third but rarely home.
I blame this loss on Neifi's half-assed blunder. You really can't put all the blame on Dempster's poor performance. For God's sake, this team is so bad, he's only pitched 18 innings this year. Every once in a while, the closer is going to blow a ball game. Hoffman, for example, blows about one save for every nine he earns, and he's one of the best in the business. Sometimes shit happens, and the tater goes flying. However, it should go without saying that the second baseman MUST receive the throw from right field. Neifi's lollygagging bullshit was the straw that broke the camel's back; the single grain that toppled the sand castle; the butterfly's flight that stirred the hurricane. If he had done his job and kept Castilla at first, it's possible that Piazza never even comes up to bat in the ninth. When you're constantly tettering on the edge of disaster like this Cub team is right now, you CANNOT afford to make ANY sloppy plays.
Why did Dusty leave Perez in the game? Joe Torre, Ozzie Guillen, Bobby Cox, or any other manager with half an ounce of pride would have burst out of the dugout and dragged Perez's ass into the clubhouse for the ass-whipping of his life. But Perez stayed in there, and he looked like he was unaffected after the blunder, even mouthing off to the luckiest man on the Padres (bullpen catcher Mark Merila). Baker could have made any number of moves to replace the lazy oaf (Theriot; Bynum; Murton or Mabry to left, Hairston to second). Yet time and time again, the dog goes unpunished for shitting all over the floor, because you don't want the poor little doggie to feel bad about himself. Welcome to the Dusty Baker school of management.
Remember that, prior to this season, everyone was concerned that Cedeno and Murton didn't know how to play the game the right way. Sure, the kids have made a few mistakes along the way, but at least they're making hustle errors. What's killing us is washed-up veterans like Perez and Blanco, each of whose production long since passed the point of bad comedy. This club simply doesn't have any fire. We need DLee back in the worst way. We need his bat. We need his defense. We need Walker back at second, batting sixth or seventh. And we need to not have bench-warmers in the starting lineup everyday.
And, where's Felix Pie? If you're going to start Hairston in left a few times a week, why not give Pie those at-bats? What's he hitting in the PCL, anyway -- over .400? MacPhail, Hendry, and Baker should be lined up and shot, because the situation is incorrectably pitiful.
I'm going to have a few beers and try not to think about Cubs baseball.
Once again: Indecision is a decision.
posted by Pat at 4:54 PM
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