That’s right. Follow me for a minute.
Because modern-day TV has completely soured me on talking-heads and debate-based shows, I have done a pretty good job of avoiding the plethora of NFL Draft preview shows on ESPN over the past couple of weeks. Granted, that means a lot of TV watching in the living room, where Spongebob and Wonderpets rule the day, but I still think Patrick Starfish and Ming-Ming the duckling outsmart some of the “experts” on ESPN. Ooh, I quite enjoyed typing that one.
Another reason I’ve avoided those shows is because I took a vow to simply follow Jerry Angelo faithfully this offseason, since he took a beating by many people (including me) for his moves last year (they turned out pretty well, didn’t they?). So far, it hasn’t been that hard of a vow to keep, even considering the tumultuous offseason, because the majority of the bad stuff that has happened is not Angelo’s fault. Also, I love the Adam Archuletta trade and the signing of Anthony Adams.
But then a friend of mine passed along this little ditty: If he were GM of the Bears, he said, he would have accepted the Redskins’ offer of taking Briggs and the No. 31 pick for the No. 6 pick. He then would have traded that No. 6 pick and the No. 37 pick to Cleveland for the No. 3 pick, where all mocks say that Calvin Johnson would be there for the taking.
That’s right. Calvin Johnson a Chicago Bear.
It’s hard not to like Mark Buehrle, the under-appreciated leader of the White Sox staff for essentially the entire 21st century. So I think it’s safe to say that even the majority of Cubs fans, myself included, were rooting for him on Wednesday. It marked the first time since the 1993 playoffs that I rooted for the Sox (hey, it was either them or the Blue Jays. I stand by my decision.)
Which sort of brings me to my next point. Being a Cubs fan, I have become aware that the majority fans of other teams have one of two opinions of myself and other Cubs fans.
1.) Pity. I hate this. We haven’t won a World Series in a while. I get it. I don’t need your pity. Leave me alone. Let me be. Shut up.
This ran in Friday’s paper, but I thought I’d post it here as well. In it, I try to dissect the Prior-Wood issues.
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The latest apparent injury to Mark Prior does not come as a surprise to anybody.
In fact, the general reaction among fans is a sarcastic muttering along the lines of “Gee, that’s a shock.” It’s safe to say that most fans seem to have some varying degree of contempt for the former ace.
But is that the right direction to be pointing the contempt? Is it Prior’s fault his arm is unreliable? No. At very worst, Prior is something of a hypochondriac, having J.D. Drew disease, if you will, in that when he feels any twinge in his body, he automatically shuts down and complains of problems.
But can you blame him? Let’s consider the often-overlooked bungling by the Cubs training staff of Prior and Kerry Wood.
There are lots of things to like about Scott Podsednik. Yesterday was not one of them.
Pods is endearing because he is a lunch-bucket player, having grinded through something like eight or nine seasons in the minor leagues with the Rangers, Marlins, Mariners and Brewers before finally cracking the starting lineup for the Brewers in 2003. He then became the talk of baseball by hitting .314, stealing 43 bases and finishing behind only Dontrelle Willis for the NL Rookie of the Year.
He also belted the game-winning home run in Game 2 of the World Series. Little known fact: Pods finished 12th in the American League MVP voting in 2005. Think about that.
He also has a smoking hot wife (sorry boys, no links. I like my job and plan to keep it.).
But, here’s the thing: He’s just not a good ballplayer.
Isn’t this April 9? Why is it snowing? Lewis Black does a bit in which he describes how one time, he heard thunder, then looked outside and saw a snowstorm. I couldn’t find the bit on youtube, one of the few times that glorious site hath failed me, but in essence, he says that there are certain things you expect to see when you hear thunder, and snowfall isn’t one of them. Likewise, when I look at my calendar, and it says ‘April 9,’ and then I hear the sound of a lawn mower, when I look outside, I expect to see certain things. My neighbor mowing his yard in a blizzard is not one of them.
I haven’t linked anything recently and that’s a shame because that means I’m making my readers (I think I’m up to four now!) slog through more of my own drivel instead of providing interesting things for them to read. So here you go:
First, Chicago Sports Review highlights the top 10 sports stories that have come out of the blogosphere. One of them is the name of my fantasy baseball team. Another is the greatest pick-up line of all-time.
People that know me know I’m not superstitious. I don’t believe that if a pitcher is throwing no-hitter and I talk about it at home, I’ve jinxed him. I don’t believe in knocking on wood, throwing salt over my shoulder or in karmic retribution. I sure as heck don’t believe in that dumb Billy-Goat curse. But maybe, just maybe, this was a sign. Whether it was a good sign or a bad sign, I don’t know.
David Robert Laird was born Monday at 3:40 p.m. On Opening Day. During the game. He was 10 pounds, two ounces (I warned you he’d be big.) That’s 10/02. That’s what day the first day of the postseason will likely be. Then again, the Cubs got their butt kicked. So what kind of a sign this was, I’m not sure.
