What is a Cubs Game Worth?

Do you really have to be there?

The newest Cubs ticket plan, the six pack, is now on sale at Cubs.com. Six games for $150 or more (they advertise the prices starting at $97, but the cheapest seats available in package E, for example, ring up at $141.16 once fees are included.) Not bad, all in all, I guess. You're going to pay $23 a ticket for not very good seats to 1 premium game and 5 games you'll try to sell to someone else (or maybe vice versa, I don't know you).

But is a trip to Wrigley worth that right now? I'll throw out all the other costs associated with getting to the game, because going into Chicago is worth it. I love Chicago. I love driving into Chicago. Up Lakeshore Drive. Through the tangled mess of the Dan Ryan. Neighborhood routes or expressway bypasses, I don't care. I love being in the city, and I'm not going to add the price of getting there into the Cubs' side of the ledger. Getting there is on me. Glad to do it.

Once I'm there, though, is it worth $23 to mingle around the statues and take in the ballpark rising from the cramped city . . . trapezoid; to trudge through the fog of beer fumes and hot dog vapors; to fade into a crowd of people who more than anything just want to see a Cubs win and enjoy a few drops of sunshine along the way; to sit in uncomplicated seats; to bring my voice close enough to the field that the players can hear my cheers of support and groans of disappointment and shouts of triumph? Is that worth $23? $30? $125?

How much is it worth to me to indoctrinate my sons with an emotional attachment to a team that offers little rational return on the investment? To bring them to a place so big and green and beautiful that reveals itself in a sudden wave of glory as we head up the steps onto the mezzanine? To sit beside them and talk about whatever they want to talk about and answer every question and not have a TV on? How much is that worth to cement a moment in time between me and the members of my family?

I guess about $15 per person is what I'm saying.

Who Would Pay to Rename Wrigley?

All this talk of renovating Wrigley at the taxpayers' expense (and let's face it, no matter how the taxes are collected, bonded, spent, or repaid, it all comes down to people paying taxes through the nose) has stirred up a lot of conversation about other potentially disconcerting ways for the Cubs to bring in revenue. While we fans are still partial to the idea of selling 2011 Cubs World Series Champion memorabilia as an ideal money-making scheme, the likelihood of that is { }.

Cubs think tank members in blogging and mainstream realms agree that the most obvious way for the Cubs to collect some quick cash is to peddle their most attractive commodity: Wrigley Field. More precisely, the naming rights. Wrigley by any other name would still smell like piss, so let's get over the sentimental attachment to our former overlords, shall we? It wasn't named Wrigley before that family owned it, so why shouldn't the name change now that we're 2 or 3 owners removed from their gum-chewing legacy?

Even if the Cubs do decide to sell the naming rights to their North-Side shrine, they still need to find a buyer. I've come up with ten possibilities, and, in a departure from the norm, most of them aren't even sarcastic options. As far as I know, none of the companies I'm suggesting have naming-rights deals with other arenas, fields, parks, stadia, etc. Some with good reason. Let me know what you think about the prospect of watching the Cubs play in, say, Apple Field.

1. Apple
They've got the money. They don't typically shy away from extra publicity. Maybe it could come with a decent Wi-Fi package for the fans as well.

2. Frontier
Frontier Communications is an ISP/telecom provider typically in smaller suburban and rural communities, and they recently acquired a ton of customers from Verizon service areas. Somehow this resulted in an enormous dip in their stock value. Telecom companies typically like naming-rights deals because brand awareness is huge for them. The publicity of owning the rights to the field soon to be known as formerly-known-as-Wrigley would give them a much-needed competitive edge in the market. It's a bigger doubt, though, that this smaller player in the telecom game would be able to pay out big bucks.

3. BP
Don't laugh. Or laugh, whatever. But BP, we know, has the money. They also have a brilliant history sponsoring crosstown cups. What they don't have is anything to lose. Yes, BP Field would make Cubs fans mad and unhappy. But guess what? They already are. BP and Cubs fans have nowhere to go but up, so I look at this as a low risk, high reward venture.

4. Kraft
I don't have a real good reason for this one other than that they could use a stadium deal, they have a ton of money, and I think my sons would enjoy Cubs games more if the vendors sold Lunchables.

5. Mars, Inc.
Food/candy giant. Recognizable, well respected name. Unobjectionable products. Oh, and Wrigley is their subsidiary, so they could keep the field named Wrigley and finally pay up on the 30 bagijillion dollars of free advertising they get every year. Or they could sue the Cubs for trademark violation for desecrating their brand by tying their name to a urine-soaked frat house. I prefer the bagijillion dollar option, though.

6. Bank of America
Kiefer Sutherland tells me that Bank of America is a proud partner of the Chicago Cubs. This is only natural. Let's put that bailout money to work at Wrigley. I mean, at BOA Ballpark. But seriously, the banking industry is another one where name recognition means a ton. This investment would pay off.

7. Comcast
From what I hear, Comcast customers are just as tormented as Cubs fans, so this makes all the sense in the God-forsaken world. It's another huge, competitive market, and Comcast stands to benefit greatly. Couple that with the 25% stake the Ricketts family has in Comcast SportsNet Chicago, and it's a win-win for everybody.

8. Friends of Meigs Field
Meigs Field got destroyed in a midnight raid by Mayor Daley. I'm sure the group that mourns that loss would take some pleasure in bringing Meigs Field back home to Chicago in the confines of Daley's least favorite baseball franchise, even if they couldn't land planes there. But they have no money. So . . . yeah. No.

9. Geico
The gecko. The cavemen. The money with eyes. The dude from Brothers McMullen and She's the One who's not Edward Burns. There can be no doubt that Geico isn't afraid of brand saturation. Why not add the Cubs as just one more spokesman? I see no reason. Making the decision to redub the Friendly Confines Geico Park is so easy, even a Cub could do it.

10. TD Ameritrade
Ever heard of synergy? Of course you have, and your psyched about the opportunity to see it happen for the Cubs. The Ricketts family is no stranger to paying for Cubs business with TD Ameritrade money. Okay, actually, everyone else in the world but the Ricketts is a stranger to that. Synergy. This is unbreakable. This is inevitable.

Purpled Wrigley

Image by @WNUR_Sports

A lot of people seem distraught that the Wrigley Field marquee has been repainted purple for the upcoming Northwestern football game. I don't mind so much. The scoreboard treatment was a little more shocking, though.

The Cubs Home-Field Disadvantage: Is Day Baseball to Blame?

A few more night games might not be a bad idea.

Yesterday I looked at the Cubs' league-worst home-field advantage since 1970. Today I'm surveying the history of the Cubs at home since 1901. Obviously most of that (every year from 1914 on) is at Wrigley Field, but I threw in the numbers from before that as well simply because . . . well, because I have them.

Before I go any further, I just want to rehash a few main points from yesterday's post:

• Home-field advantage is legitimate in Major League Baseball. Every year since 1901 the home team has won a majority of the games played in baseball (a .540 winning percentage since 1970).
• A study of the 2004 MLB regular season showed that travel leading up to a game has no effect on win probability for either team.
• The study also concluded that home-field advantage is statistically relevant only in games decided by one run.
• Results over the years support that studies conclusion that home-field advantage matters the most in one-run games; the home team has a .608 winning percentage since 1970. The home team has still maintained an advantage in games decided by 2 runs or more (.511) or 3 runs or more (.518).
• Since 1970, the Cubs have MLB's worst winning percentage (.577) in all one-run home games where their advantage should be the highest.
• Explaining home-field advantage is considered one of baseball's most indiscernible mysteries.
• The Cubs, like every team in baseball, have an advantage when playing at home, but theirs has historically been less advantageous than that of any other team.

Most people who care to argue generally take one of a few main positions in explaining the home-field advantage in baseball. The first is that the structure of the game itself favors the home team. They'll argue that having the last at-bat either allows the home team a strategic advantage in one-run games (they know exactly how many runs they need to score in the 9th) or that it simply creates the statistical illusion of an advantage (if the home team is tied or trailing in the 9th, they'll almost always win by one if they win at all, and they never have the opportunity to build on their leads after the 8th inning). 

Wrigley: the Worst Home-Field Advantage in Baseball

I love Wrigley Field. I do. It's one of my favorite places in the world. I say that to inform you that nothing in this post is out of spite for the venue I revere as a mecca of the baseball world. And as much as I give Cubs fans a hard time, I don't really think they're worse than the fans of any other team. There are some great Cubs fans and some abominable ones just as any fan base is prone to including members from both ends of the spectrum of tolerability.

But the home-field advantage at Wrigley, for the last several decades, has been the worst in all of baseball, and I've got the numbers to prove it.

I started out investigating home-field advantage in general in the hopes of proving something about the significance of psychology in baseball. The first wave of research showed that as far back as I could look (1901) there always has been a home-field advantage league-wide. In every season of Major League Baseball, the home teams have, collectively, registered a winning record. There have been 4 seasons in which the teams of either the National League or the American League had a collective losing record at home, but it has never happened across baseball.

Then I came across this study of the 2004 Major League Baseball season that went to great lengths to isolate the effect of both home-field advantage and travel on the probability of winning. I was happy to learn that travel was ruled to have no significant effect on win probability for either team and that home-field advantage is very real. However, the study also concluded that home-field advantage was statistically significant only in games decided by one run—but in those one-run games, it's pretty significant.

Cubs Spring Training Site an Unexpected Choice

Christmas in July? Try spring training in August.

Listening to some Bears chatter in anticipation of tonight's game against the Raiders, I laughed at the intensity with which football fans discuss preseason games. Wins and losses are insignificant at this point. Most of the guys you'll depend on to win games when it counts won't see meaningful action. And a high percentage of the guys on the field will be off the roster before too long. But as much as they say they don't care, the fans still find themselves completely pulled into these games like the division championship is on the line.

And then the question hit me: What Chicago team am I talking about?

So I was going to write something about how the Cubs' regular season is looking an awful lot like the Bears' preseason. Then I realized it's looking a lot like spring training. And when I stopped to really think about it, the truth became obvious. This is spring training.

Celebrity Guest Conductor: Save This Awful Tradition

He's the prince of Cubbie darkness.

I probably change my mind on this every other time I hear another semi-famous person butcher "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," but for now I've made up my mind. The Cubs should continue the tradition that has lasted into its lucky 13th season. Here's what has ended the back and forth* for me: everything about it reminds me of Harry Caray.

I Don't Have a Topic. Cubs Stuff.

The Cubs have lost more one-run decisions than anyone else in the majors. I guess that means they're almost really good.

The Cubs are 13-28 (.317) in games decided by one run. They've come dangerously close to not losing 28 times.

Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. If baseball were horseshoes, the Cubs would be the champions. If baseball were hand grenades, everyone  would be dead.

The Cubs are 3-9 (.250) against the Pirates. The Pirates are 39-74 (.345). So, if you're following, the Cubs against the Pirates < the Cubs in 1-run games < the Pirates in general.

Against teams not named the Cubs, the Pirates are 30-71 (.297). That's almost as bad as the Cubs are against the Pirates, but not quite.

The Cubs playing the Pirates is quite possibly the worst baseball you could ever see played at the Major League level. They should probably be playing hand grenades.

Roy Halladay has a 7.50 ERA against the Cubs this year. Tim Lincecum has a 13.50 ERA against the Cubs this year. Their respective ERAs overall are 2.34 and 3.41. That is weird.

Tony LaRussa will be suspended for two of the Cubs' upcoming games against the Cardinals. The St. Louis middle infielders will have to remember on their own to start back and charge in when there's a runner at third.

Darwin Barney's middle name should be comma.

When athletes who play sports that do not allow fighting get into fights, they should be arrested. When I beat up my coworkers, I'm never granted two days off. They always press charges.

A beer at Wrigley costs seven dollars. That's outrageous. If they used the same ROI ratio they use to price tickets, seven dollars would only get you a glass of trough juice.

That was gross. I'm sorry. But if this were Wrigley, you'd still owe me $14 for that joke.

Most of the Cubs roster now looks to Starlin Castro for his veteran wisdom.

The Cajun Connection is now split onto opposite sides of baseball's most heated West Coast rivalry. Their dueling hip-hop albums cannot be far behind.

I'm out of ideas. Now I know how Lou felt in mid-April.

How the Cubs Became My Fountain of Youth

Forget Next Year. I'm holding on to 30 years ago.  

The cliché tells us to dance like no one's watching. As someone who dances only when no one is watching, I can only guess that the intended conclusion of this mantra is that we should disregard everyone else's judgments and do what makes us happy. Nobody understands that concept better than little kids. Some might say our ability to retain that shameless, childlike appreciation for the moment is what keeps us young at heart.

As Cubs fans, that's also what keeps us sane.

I can't speak for all of us, but I started cheering for the Cubs when I was too young to know better and too wrapped up in the joy of youth to care if it was a wise decision. I loved the Cubs, and I cheered like no one was watching. It wasn't the only foolish road I ever ventured down, but it's the one I've been on the longest.

When I think about my childish mistakes, I'm happy to leave almost all of them in the past. The crush on Morgan Dingwall. My inability to pronounce the letter R sound. The skater haircut. The hunter green and fuchsia plaid overalls or the pastel Easter-egg Skidz. Telling the photographer on Picture Day sophomore year that I didn't need to consult a mirror before he took the shot. I have no problem leaving all these foibles in the past never to be revisited again. Repeating them wouldn't make me feel young, it would make me feel stupid.

I regret the hair, not the hat.

For some reason, cheering for the Cubs is different. Although I'm reminded on a semi-daily basis that being a Cubs fan betrays any sense of intelligence I may have been able to establish over the course of my life, I can't help but remember how happy I was the first time I saw with my own naive eyes the lush green blanket of grass that covered Wrigley Field. I can still tap into the wonder that washed over me as I was baptized into the aroma of beer and cigarettes and hot dogs when I first stepped through the turnstiles at the Friendly Confines. I can still taste the Pepsi that was so sweet, sharp, and chock full of ice that it burned my upper lip as I happily drank it in. I still feel the same pride I felt the first time someone explained to me the meaning of die-hard and I decided that was exactly the kind of fan I wanted to be.

There are plenty of times when allowing these feelings of unbridled juvenile rapture (brought on by a generally bad baseball team) to resurface in my grownup consciousness makes me feel like an unequivocal fool. If someone were to know how swept away with glee I become when the Cubs win a game, they'd be required by the unwritten rules of society to call me a moron to my face and in front of my children.

I don't care. I'm putting it out there: I'm an idiot Cubs fan.

But I don't cheer for this team because I believe all the thoughts I entertained as a kid. I don't think the Cubs are good and everyone else is evil . . . not really. I don't think they're the best team no matter what and that other teams happen to win every year only because they cheat. So I don't have a ton of patience with adults who praise or berate this team with all the logic of a six year old.

I also have no love for the people in the organization who would exploit my desire to retain the carefree passions of my youth. When I was a kid I may have had no respect whatsoever for the value of a dollar, but those days are gone. There's only so much I'm willing to spend to be a fool for a terrible team. I'll watch and cheer and blog like no one's reading (which isn't all too difficult to imagine), but I do expect something before I flatter this team by imitating their propensity for taking on debt in the name of losing.

On the other side of the spectrum of childlike wonder, though, are the people who continue to love this team simply to enjoy the action no matter how dismal, the people who cheer like no one's watching and then continue with their lives unperturbed by the outcome. I applaud you. I hope to join you.

History and my life insurance actuary tell me there's a not-too-small chance I'll die without seeing the Cubs win the World Series. I'd rather not entertain the thought. Instead I'll continue to let my inner nine year old call the shots during Cubs games without regard for how stupid I may look or sound. It's how I stay young. It's how I stay sane. It's why I remain a Cubs fan. It's why, inside at least, I will do this dance when the Cubs win while outwardly I laugh with all the mocking force I can muster. (h/t to Cubs Fan Report for the link to this video in today's report)

Some Cubs Traditions Just Won't Go Away: Steve Goodman

The Cubs added lights to Wrigley Field. They started playing walk-up music instead of organ preludes. They might put an end to the celebrity 7th-inning stretch (not that I've heard anything, but it could happen). They could sell the naming rights to the ballpark. Willis Field has a certain ring to it. They could stop playing day games. They could move. Bleacher aristocrats could stop throwing home-run balls back onto the field. Almost any Cubbie tradition could come to an end.

Almost. The one the Cubs don't appear to have any inclination to change is their bent toward losing with commitment and creativity. I posted this video around this time last year, so I thought I might as well make it a tradition for this blog. Because, although they might eventually choose a song other than "Go Cubs Go" to blare over the Wrigley loudspeakers, they'll always manage to live up to the dismal hopes of this Steve Goodman rhapsody.

Wrigley Walk-Up Music: an Introduction to Suck

When I heard the Cubs had adopted the otherwise league-wide practice of playing pre-recorded walk-up music before every batter (as opposed to the traditional organ fare), I had almost no emotional response. As far as I'm concerned, and I doubt I'm alone in this, the Cubs picked the perfect time to introduce such a change: a time when our care-o-meter is at its lowest.

Fortunately, my youngest brother doesn't know the meaning of the word apathy. That may be true both literally and figuratively, seeing as though he's more of a music guy than a vocab wizard. I kid. He's my baby brother. Sibling torture aside, the kid cares about his baseball.

The kid also has a kid of his own now who gets to experience the joy and pain of Cubs baseball on a regular basis. But I'll let my brother tell that story in what is, as of this moment, an open letter to the Cubs in response to their use of walk-up music. As I alluded to earlier, Robbie is a guy who lives and breathes music, so it's no small matter to him. As you read, I invite you to also take in this video featuring one of Robbie's compositions. Originally titled "Nancy," I prefer to think of it in this instance as "Robbie's Lament." (feel free to ignore the sappy photo array, it's just easier for me to post videos than songs)

Great Expectations

Aerosmith is a great band, but I've always felt that they peaked with their first hit, "Dream On." Now, that's a fine zenith, one that most bands would kill to reach, and a lot of my Aerosmith-loving friends would disagree with my assertion to begin with. But I know I'm not the only person to rank "Dream On" as Steven Tyler & Co.'s best song and one of the greatest in rock & roll history. You could argue they recorded a song or songs that were as good as "Dream On," but I can't be convinced that they've done anything that was better. (It was also the featured song of the above highlight reel ESPN played to close out 1999, which was, for me, the best of the uber-emotional musical sports montage genre . . . still gets me verklempt.)

Notice the price in the upper right of the ticket: $6.00

I bring this up now because of May 6 and May 7. You may recall a game that took place on May 6, 1998. Cubs. Astros. Ring a bell? You probably remember where you were when it happened. I do. I remember the telephone of my Chicago apartment ringing shortly after the game ended. It was my mom.

"Did you see the game?" she asked in a near shriek.

"Yeah," I said calmly, followed by a pause for dramatic effect. "From the BLEACHERS!!!"


I was supposed to have been at work. But for the third day in a row, I had been swinging a sledge hammer all day long, knocking down brick-plaster walls, picking up the scraps, and hauling away the wreckage. I was exhausted. So at about 11:30 I asked for the afternoon off. It just sounded like a good idea to catch a game. I thought Kerry Wood was pitching, and I really wanted to get to see him in person. One short El ride later, and I was at the Wrigley Field Box Office hoping, but skeptically, that there were still bleacher seats left. The attendant laughed off my skepticism.


"Oh yeah, we got plenty. We definitely have one."


Score.


I took a seat in the left-center bleachers where there was plenty of room to stretch out. I was a bit worried by the clouds sweeping across the sky, some of them spilling a few drops here and there. It was one of those weird days when some of the ballpark was in sunshine while other seats were getting rained on. All in all, though, it was a beautiful day for me and 15,757 of my friends to enjoy.

Soon, a married couple of Astros fans (in town from Houston, they had seen the Astros win the night before) in Biggio jerseys sat in front of me. I felt a sting of anxiety when they smirked at Kerry's first fastball, which sailed directly into Jerry Meals. But from that point on, the smirks were all mine.

Kerry's fastball zipped so blindingly fast, there were times when I confused the smack of Sandy Martinez's glove with the crack of a bat. Some of his pitches I genuinely could not see. But his breaking stuff? Normally I can't tell a slider from a 2-seamer when I watch a game in person, but I could see Kerry's slider swooping out of the strike zone like a Frisbee. I could see the fear in the Astros' eyes, the wobble in their knees, and the swirly black thought bubble of frustration emanating from the tops of their heads.

As the game wore on, that crowd of less than 1/2 capacity exploded with ovations of glee. We were high-fiving. We were shouting. We were openly mocking the trespassers from the West who were outed by their Cardinals umbrellas when the rain got a bit too heavy for them. One guy to my left, wearing a newspaper for a rain hat, was announcing the strikeout totals with every batter. We were all grumbling slightly about Kevin Orie. We united as one in sheer joy over the crowning of baseball's newest King of K's.

After 2 hours and 19 minutes, we went home. Unbelievable. Unstoppable. Unequivocal.

Unrepeatable.

In the career of Kerry Lee Wood, the apex of his achievements occurred in his fifth start as a major leaguer. It was quite possibly the greatest display of pitching in the history of baseball. He could never improve upon that. Nobody could. I find it suddenly and incredibly sad to think that Kerry Wood's finest moment, the most dramatic tear-jerking, goosebump-inducing highlight, came just a few steps into his journey as a pro.

It's not exactly the same situation, but I'd hate for something similar to befall Starlin Castro. On May 7, 2010, he took the baseball world by storm, yet another 20-year-old Cub to set the standard for big-splash achievements. Starlin drove in 6 runs, 3 on a homer in his very first appearance at a big-league plate, and another 3 on a triple showcasing his yes-we-should-be-excited-about-this-kid speed. No player had ever begun his career with a 6-RBI game. Ever. How can Castro improve on that?

Tonight, Starlin has a chance to impress the Wrigley faithful as he debuts in a building that, according to Ozzie Guillen, he's not even old enough to attend. The kid needs McLovin to help him buy beer, but 40,000 screaming fans are relying on him to deliver them a champion—you know, just another thing that hasn't happened in over a century.

UPDATE: Starlin Castro went 0-2 with 2 walks and 3 errors. He got booed after the last one. Lou knew Starlin would be learning on the fly, but fans lack the patience for that. They want the prodigy but not the child. Starlin's first lesson: Wrigley Field is infested with jerks, and the real cockroaches like to come out at night.

Cubs Facts that Go Without Saying (that I'll say anyway)

The Cubs won't go undefeated the rest of the season.

It is possible to put a Carlos Marmol pitch in play, after all.

Roy Oswalt and Wandy Rodriguez are not the two worst starting pitchers in baseball.

Ryan Theriot will never be mistaken for Rickey Henderson.

Jim Hendry will never be mistaken for Branch Rickey.

There is such a thing as too much beer.

Christie Brinkley has aged better than Chevy Chase.

Dead ivy isn't any more charming than separated shoulders and concussed outfielders.

Green ivy is more charming (but not all that more comforting) than dead ivy.

He's not on the team, but the spirit of Neifi Perez is waiting in the on-deck circle.

I don't care how good they are, the Cardinals suck.

Starlin Castro should keep a bag packed at all times.

Wrigley Field is not a church. You won't hear the organ playing at church.

No one cares about your fantasy team. Not even the people in your fantasy league.

"Obituary" is the nicest sounding word dedicated exclusively to the description of dead people.

The Cubs will not finish in last place.

Marlon Byrd is one smooth hombre.

It would be cool if the Cubs played the Yankees this year.

By 2015, advanced baseball metrics will be known as stats.

If the Cubs closed the Wrigley Field press box, there's a good chance the baseball IQ in Chicago would go up.

Ron Santo deserves to be in the Hall of Fame and to watch the Cubs win a World Series, and none of this "looking down from heaven" business. Let's get it done, people.

Top Ten Things Tom Ricketts Still Needs to Change at Wrigley Field

By law, this scoreboard must go unaltered forever. That includes general cleaning.

Wrigley Field is a beautiful place, a holy cathedral of baseball's highest order. But it's also home to some of the foulest, sludgiest nooks and crannies this side of Jim Hendry's colon. The Ricketts regime has already begun to make a few changes, replacing concrete slabs with monstrous photo banners and substituting a few troughs with IPPS's*. But it's not nearly enough. I'm sure Ozzie Guillen could think of many more, but here are 10 suggestions to get the Cubbies started:

10. Trough-style bidets.

9. Guess the Ambassador's Age Contest. (Hint: the answer's 85.)

Can we get a picture of Miles, just for old time's sake?

8. Clearly marked "Entrance" and "Exit" signs for all restrooms. (Wait, they're installed already? Then how do you explain the 5-idiot-per-second rate of people trying to get out the wrong way? They must just be friendly.)

7. Replace out-of-town scores with manually updated out-of-touch tweets from disgruntled White Sox fans.

6. Miss an inning in line for the restroom? No problem: piss-trough time machines.

5. Tickets that don't cost 5 billion dollars.

4. Every 7th-inning stretch, every guest conductor: auto-tune.

3. Twenty-five percent discount on concessions for everyone who agrees to shower before coming to the game. With much thanks.

2. Keep "Go Cubs Go," as the victory celebration song, but after losses everyone joins hands and sings "Kumbaya."

1. A new World Series banner. (Seriously, it doesn't even have to be real. Humor me.)


*individual pee-pee stations

When Did Wrigley Become the Star?

Over at ACB, they were discussing the Cubs' ability to draw fans regardless of the state of the team due to the tourist attraction status of Wrigley Field. My comment ballooned into a blog post. I posted it over there, but I figured I'd include it here too given the week-long posting vacation I've been on.

I don't think the team officially started exploiting the Wrigley advantage until 1998. I remember because I was trying to break into advertising in 1997, and part of my makeshift portfolio was a proposed campaign for exploiting the Wrigley advantage since the team sucked so bad yet never really promoted the uniqueness of the stadium. But the real reason the focus had never been on Wrigley as a place was because the Cubs had been a personality-driven franchise. The centerpiece personality was Harry Caray.

Harry joined the Cubs for the 1982 season and became, more or less, the instant face of the franchise. Not all that coincidentally, John McDonough joined the Cubs as director of sales and promotion in 1983, and moved steadily up the Cub corporate ladder, incorporating the broadcasting division into his official responsibilities in 1991.

During Harry's 16 seasons with the Cubs, the key marketing advantage was not Wrigley Field, it was the national audience (radio & TV) for each and every game with Harry as the featured star in both media. You may have heard Mark Grace tell of Harry's ability to draw crowds of fans away from Cub superstars like Grace, Sandberg, and Dawson, leaving them alone to marvel at his vastly superior fame.

I guarantee you, John McDonough is a smart guy, and he capitalized on and did everything he could to encourage Harry's fame. Harry Caray (or the unabashed homer image he projected) was the focal point of Cub marketing and promotion throughout his tenure with the team.

When Harry died before spring training of 1998, that's when the Wrigley experience took center stage. His passing was sad for all of us, but the timing of the marketing transition could not have been better.

The culture was primed for it. In 1989, Field of Dreams became a hit, and it swelled in popularity upon its release on home video. "If you build it, he will come" became the meme that wouldn't die. The importance of baseball in familial relationships and the culture of America took on mythological status on a mass popular level. And the movie may have been centered around a bunch of dead ballplayers from the South Side, but the idea of a ballpark lost in time conjured images of Wrigley for every Cub fan.

The next year was the last season every played at Comiskey Park, the oldest functioning park still standing at the time. And in 1991, the New Comiskey opened its gates to people generally disenfranchised with its modern look, despite the plethora of outstanding amenities. Boo for progress.

The next year, 1992, Oriole Park at Camden Yards turned the inner harbor into a baseball time machine. It was the anti-Comiskey despite the fact that the same company designed and built both parks. But with Camden's old-world (yet amenity-rich) feel came a newfound appreciation nationwide for the parks that already carried a sense of nostalgia.

New parks continued to spring up (the Jake, the Ballpark at Arlington, Pac Bell, Coors Field, etc.) in attempts to marry the classic Americana vibe with the modern cry for additional attractions. But the baseball stoppage of 1994 cost the league a World Series, and it broke any illusions fans may have had about Major League Baseball's quaint sense of history.

When Harry died in '98, baseball was still recovering from the aftermath and fans were still disenfranchised. But instead of marking the demise of baseball as we know it, Harry's passing turned Wrigley Field into a shrine to everything baseball was meant to be, at least in the eyes of the fans.

The tradition of the 7th-inning stretch being sung poorly continued. Homages to Harry popped up around the neighborhood. In a single game, Kerry Wood struck out an Astro for every year of his life. Sammy Sosa hit sixty-effing-six homers for the season. Ron Santo cemented his place as the slight reincarnation of Harry Caray (Noooooooooo!). The Cubs made the playoffs in as dramatic fashion as fans could possibly dream.

Wrigley became . . . magical. It was no longer Harry Caray's personal stage. It had become his own small section of heaven.

That, my friends, is when Wrigley Field itself became the center of the hype. At a distance, it's easy to see that the talk of magic and curses and overwhelming sentimentality is a bit of a crock, but in the moment, it all just seemed too perfect. Even looking back now, I get a little wrapped up in the emotion of it all.

Still, the storybook drama has worn off. I'm not alone in wanting to move on from the nonessential drama and just win a championship already. The thing is, I think the Cubs as an organization have moved on, too. Turning Wrigley into more of a place of business and less of St. Harry's Cathedral might help all of us step into a new era: the age of winning.

Cubs' Deal with Toyota Won't Slow Down

Whoa!!! Cubs wanna advertise! Photo: Crain's Chicago Business

Not satisfied with one extravagant multi-year, multi-million-dollar contract with brake problems perched in left field, the Cubs have filed an application with the city of Chicago for the rights to slap a Toyota sign in the bleachers of the landmark in which they play baseball. The good news is this deal will make the Cubs money. Probably not Soriano money, but maybe something in the Theriot neighborhood. The bad news is the Cubs need approval from the city of Chicago, which will also probably require half of Carlos Silva's contract, food allowance, and a third round pick.

The sign, an illuminated, insignia-shaped billboard towering 75 feet above Waveland Avenue, isn't the slightest bit objectionable to those who don't own rooftops with Horseshoe Casino painted on them. But it's also not a video replay board, and the Horseshoe/Budweiser/WGN Radio rooftop looked to be the most promising destination for something of that nature. Actually, the spot the Cubs management picked for the Toyota sign ain't a bad place for such a thing. 

The question is, should we consider the ongoing lack of a giant replay board  (and the semi-permanent billboard in its most suitable future home) a matter of good news or bad?

I have heard both sides of the argument. The main pros are: 1) all fans really want to see replays when they're at the game (admit it); 2) a JumboTron could bring in a lot of advertising revenue. How much? Does it matter? I'm sure it's plenty. 

The cons are: 1) Wrigley is supposed to transcend time and provide an escape from the flashy, sensory overload, "Make Some NOISE!!!" brand of baseball featured at other parks; 2) a video replay board would distract from the existing, manually updated scoreboard; 3) a JumboTron could obscure the view from the rooftops as well as spoil the neighborhood skyline the fans currently enjoy.

The pros and cons have their problems, though. I agree, part of the charm of Wrigley is the time-warp feel of the place. Logic be damned, who knows how much of Wrigley's timeless value (or, more accurately, the value of Wrigley's timelessness) would be lost if modernization became pronounced in hi-def over drunken heads of the bleacher bums. Would enough Cub fans feel so jilted as to withhold their cash and offset the financial gain from selling Wrigley's soul? I don't know. That's kind of dramatic, even if you think a JumboTron would murder the Wrigley brand.

Business matters aside, I wonder what it would do the experience at Wrigley. Despite my rage-fueled yearning to see video evidence of just how safe Kosuke Fukudome was on that force play at second, I know it's good for me to be forced to enjoy the game as it is sans screen. I don't care if they put a James Cameron 3D IMAX screen in left, there's nothing like taking in the spectacle of the real thing on one take. Adding a giant video screen tends to draw the eyes of the crowd, any crowd, more than the event itself. Here's an example.

I used to work at a college with it's own coffee house. It was more of a coffee section really, but it carried the atmosphere of a coffee house. Indie music. Disaffected college students. Coffee. And you couldn't help but get ensnared in great conversation while waiting for your non-express espresso. 

One year, the senior class of the college chose as its gift to the school a large-screen plasma TV for the coffee place. They turned the volume down and kept it tuned in to a news channel, but the lively conversation that once owned the place all but died. Worst gift ever.

I hate to tell you this, JT* haters, that ship has sailed. Not only have the Cubs announced plans to add WiFi to the stadium so fans can watch replays and get stats on enabled phones, but . . . well, people have their phones. Everybody's got a phone. There's no end to the texting, the looking down, the basking in the glow of the wireless mosaic tethers. The conversation hasn't died, per se. It's gone online and relies on the opposable thumbs of the users, but face it: our eyes aren't on the game. 

There is no time travel. The friendly confines are body surfing on the sore-thumbed hands of the Wrigley faithful helplessly, for better or worse into the 21st century. Blocking the installation of a mega-sponsored video replay board won't change that. Putting one up probably won't even accelerate it all that much.

The modernization of Wrigley is like a runaway Toyota—you just can't stop it.

What Is the Problem with Cubs Fans?

Just to be clear: not all jerks are Cubs fans.

I've been determined not to talk about Milton Bradley, and I'm not. I have no intention of addressing the specific indignities committed against or by Mr. Bradley. The simple fact is that far too many people, fans and bystanders alike, have proven themselves incapable of rational thought whenever Milton's name is involved. So any comments about Mr. Bradley have no relevance in this discussion. None.

Instead, let's talk in generalities. A lot has been said about Cubs fans lately. There's the argument that a minuscule fraction of the Cub-fan population, a mere handful of aberrant freaks, have given Cubs fans a bad name. I'd like to address that possibility. However, some proponents of that argument have constructed a straw man that any accusation of racism at Wrigley is an irrational blanket accusation against all Cubs fans. I have no desire to address that theory, because nobody really thinks that all Cubs fans are cross-burning racists and/or rabid slobbering jerks. Nobody. Thinks. That.

But a lot of people do think and have insinuated that the jerk-to-decent-human-being ratio is higher at Wrigley and among Cubs fans in general than it is at other ballparks and among other fan bases. That line of thinking warrants a serious look, although I won't wage a full-scale investigation to settle the argument. I just want to know why that might be the case.

In the realm of statistics, intelligent people don't give credence to small samples of data that lack a clear cause-effect relationship. For instance, Mark Grace hit well on Mother's Day. Sammy Sosa hit well on his birthday. Ryne Sandberg may have had a .750 average in the seventh inning of road games in July against left-handed pitchers for teams with blue uniforms. We like those stats because of the sheer coincidence of it all. No one with a functioning cerebellum really thinks those stats mean anything. But when it comes to baseball matters outside of statistics (such as the behavior of fans of certain teams at certain stadiums) the demand for reliably determined cause-effect relationships too often goes out the window.

Is there any conceivable reason why Cub fans would be more prone to racism than would other fans? Is there something about the Cubs that is more attractive to racists? Should we expect Cubs fans to be more apt than the general public to assemble grassroots hate-mail campaigns? An argument could be made that Chicago is a racist city, but it is most definitely not the only one.

As a quick aside, I'm not going to pretend racism is all that less prevalent in America today than it was 30, 40, or even 50 years ago. But for the most part, decidedly racist people have learned it's better to employ silent, subtle racism than the officially posted, vocally oppressive, publicly violent version of the segregated era. Just because  speaking the N-word has been ruled unacceptable by almost every subculture of America doesn't mean no one ever thinks it or ascribes to the hate behind it. (I like Tom Lehrer's prophetic views on the subject: publicly ignoring hate has little effect on people's private views.)

But I also don't think all the rage about Cubs fans is or should be confined to race. The fact is, it's the same attitude that drives a fan to spit on a player of his own race as the one that motivates a white fan to send hate mail to a black player. People don't do something like that because of race, they do it because of a vindictive, prideful jealousy. As much as fans love to live vicariously through their heroes and share in the glory of their success, we (yes, I'm making a universal claim here) like to do the reverse with the players we don't think deserve the money, fame, and fulfillment that comes with being a Major League Baseball player. Booing makes us feel superior, like we have the power to strip them of their glory.

It's the same thing that drives homely people to leaf through People's 50 Most Beautiful issue and complain about the ugly, horse-faced, overrated choices. It's what causes music fans to slap the "talentless" label on Grammy-winning musicians they don't like. That's why, I'm sure, I critique American Idol performances. Who doesn't enjoy taking the undeservedly famous down a notch or two?

There are some who take their glory-envy to the extreme. These are the ones who hurl racial epithets at star baseball players when they would never have the nerve to do the same to an average Joe. And yes, those same people would never think of doing that to the team's best players (even Archie Bunker thought Sammy Davis Jr. was a god). But for the players on the opposing team, the guys they just don't like, or even the fans who get in the way, common decency goes out the window. That's not unique to Chicago. But is it more prevalent with Cubs fans?

To those who think it's just a few fans, I think you're in denial. But you're probably in denial about people in general and not just Cubs fans. There are plenty of unsavory people in this world, and quite a lot of them prove themselves as such when attending baseball games. Being a jerk might not be Americans' favorite pastime, but it's in the top 10. I've been to a lot of Cubs games and the ones that weren't at all marred by obnoxious, rude fans have been somewhat rare. The same goes for the games I've attended in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Baltimore, Cincinnati, Cleveland, St. Louis, Comiskey, the Cell, Milwaukee, San Francisco, and Oakland.

I don't hear racist comments at every game or even most games, but it happens. Usually someone speaks up in a "Hey cool it" kind of way. Other times it's just a bunch of cold glares and awkward silences. But the moral outrage over racist or offensive behavior is much more common in message boards and comment threads than it is in the stands at baseball games. In my experience, this is pretty uniform no matter where you go, but over-the-line rudeness is anything but rare.

Okay, here's the big question: why does it seem, at least to some, that offensive behavior at the stadium (and from the fans writing in at home) is worse among Cubs fans than in other fan bases? The Cubs do get more media attention than a lot of teams, but not all. And the other Chicago team has a manager who has the amazing knack of absorbing any negative publicity that comes his team's way (seriously, the top story all spring in Cubs' camp has been Milton Bradley, while the only White Sox news item of note has been Ozzie's Twitter account). Could it be a century's worth of frustration or just a stronger desire in Wrigleyville? I'm not buying it.

To me, there is one big difference at Wrigley Field that might invite an extra measure of obnoxiousness: the bleachers. I don't think any outfield seating area is closer to the outfielders than the Wrigley Field bleachers. There's something about the mob mentality, the fans' high angle looking down on the lowly players, and the massive amount of liquid courage that instill in bleacher fans, a sense of superiority, entitlement, and invulnerability. The majority of fans in the bleachers are perfectly delightful, but the real snarly and hateful ones find the perfect forum atop the ivy.

The bleachers have their outspoken apologists, but plenty of other Cub fans take pride in the adversarial power wielded in the non-beer hands of the bleacher bums. Growing up, I took that view. I thought the real Cubs fans were the shouting, genuflecting soldiers in Andre's Army, the fans who yelled insults at, dumped beer on, and generally made life hell for opposing outfielders. At some point I realized that was stupid, but I'm sure there are plenty of fans who still identify with that mentality, even some who don't frequent Wrigley Field.


I would guess that there is a lot more rude, offensive, and even racist behavior in the bleachers than in other areas of the ballpark, so why wouldn't I expect it to be more prevalent in the Wrigley bleachers than in other stadiums in general where the fans' proximity to the players isn't so pronounced? And why wouldn't I expect that to spill over to the fans watching at home? I can't think of a reason.

The only way I know how to conclude this monstrosity is this: I doubt Cubs fans in general are inherently any more racist or rude or offensive than any other fans. But I do suspect that Wrigley might bring out the worst in a lot of us. I think as fans we have to make a conscious effort to curb that trend.

Random Cubs Facts, Opinions, Fabrications, and Outright Diversions

Firing Jim Hendry is a bad idea.

Jay Leno is not as unfunny as people give him discredit for. He's also not as funny as Conan.

1998 was the best year of my adult life. The home run race was a part (nowhere near all) of that. I wouldn't change a thing.

If the Cubs win the World Series this year by cheating, I will celebrate until I collapse in an unethical heap of exasperation.

If the Cubs win the World Series this year through methods of interrogative torture that cross lines even Jack Bauer wouldn't step over, I would have second thoughts.

I do not endorse cheating, torture, illegal steroid use, or the designated hitter.

Wrigley Field is unique and one of my favorite places in the world. So is the house I grew up in, but I'm glad my parents remodeled.

If Wrigley had a JumboTron that could replay controversial calls, they'd have to stop the game every other inning to rid the playing field of angrily discarded beer cups.

Everyone's at least a little racist.

Ryan Theriot isn't getting any better.

Put an @ before someone's user name to make sure they read your tweet. Use @@ to attack them with a giant 4-legged robot.

Going two-sies in the Wrigley troughs is a breach of etiquette.

The best Cubs-related movie of all time is Die Hard.

Dick Stockton will be the play-by-play guy for every Cubs 1st-round playoff game from now until the end of time.

I looked up the word curse in the dictionary, and I don't see a single definition that doesn't apply to the Cubs.

I love the Cubs, I hate the Cardinals, but to each his or her own.

Former players are entitled to their opinions about steroids, but I expect them to be no more objective than they were when they argued with umpires.

Parking at Wrigley has the exact same cost-to-pain ratio as getting a root canal.

Just once I'd like to catch a foul ball at Wrigley Field.

Alfonso Soriano will be great again.

Carlos Zambrano is the best Cubs pitcher, and he's worth every penny.

The Cubs will win it all in my lifetime.

I am not to be trusted.

See You @ Wrigley

It's game day today. I'll admit, I don't make it to a lot of Cubs games. Ever since they became good ridiculously marketable, the price of tickets (and fees and taxes and fees on taxes and the overwhelming convenience of it all) has exceeded my desire to have beer spilled on me watch frat boys act like they're running the place enjoy the sound of 30,000 texts being tapped into cell phones while as many heads bow in ignorant worship of the wireless devices of their own destruction see the games live on a regular basis.

But this is it: my 3rd and probably final Cubs game of the year. My wife, my five-year-old son (who is right now anxiously awaiting the El ride to the station that shares his name and who will spend the majority of the game anxiously awaiting the El ride back), and I will all make our way to that holy hall, equal parts friendly and confining.

I hope the Cubs can reclaim first place. I hope the Cardinals' season gets cancelled. I hope my son can join the throng in jubilant Goodman chorus as we serenade the rising W flag.

If all else fails, we've always got next year, when the little brother should be old enough to join us.

Ozzie's Right: We Are Stupid

Seriously. Ozzie is on to something.

When the White Sox first made Ozzie Guillen their manager, my instant response was one word: Genius. I didn't think he was a genius, I just thought the move was genius. If any person in my lifetime has embodied what it means to be a part of the White Sox . . . thing, it was Ozzie. Perfect guy for the job. Perfect face of the organization. Perfect person for Sox fans to love and Cub fans to hate.

But something happened in the years that followed: Ozzie grew on me.

To be perfectly honest, I have come to acknowledge that Ozzie Guillen really is a managerial genius. I'm not talking about his X's and O's (whatever that term really means in baseball). I mean, Ozzie is the quintessential baseball evil genius.

Ozzie works the Chicago media (and, at times, the national media) like marionettes in his diabolical hands. He takes pressure off his players when they need that. He puts pressure on his players when they need a kick in the butt. He enters into the psyche of opposing teams and fans. And when he's really backed into a corner, he can just ramble on unintelligibly for five minutes—and like an R.E.M. song or a Tarantino film, people just kind of get it, even though they don't know why.

After the Cubs/Sox series, Ozzie responded to a Lou Piniella comment about the Sox and their inability to draw fans for anyone but the Cubs. His words: "Our fans aren't stupid like Cubs fans. Our fans know we're [expletive]. Cub fans will watch any game, because "Wrigley Field is just a bar."

A lot of outrage exploded throughout Cubdom, but I've got news for you, Cub fans, and it really shouldn't be news: Ozzie is right. We are stupid, and this team is [expletive] right now. Heck, not even right now. Have you glanced at the sports section in the last century? Cub baseball is not where it's at. We're idiots. We're dumb. We're mindless. We're dreamers.

And proud of it.

Look, only an idiot would have anticipated that Rudy would see on-field action for the fighting Irish. Only a moron would have placed his money on Milan to win the 1954 Indiana high school state basketball championship. The dummies picked David over Goliath. Cheering for the Cubs is not smart.

But we do it because we long for that feeling of overcoming the odds (which were actually pretty good heading into the season). We cheer for the underdog (even though the Cubs have paid enough, but haven't won enough, to shed that tag). We show up to watch an expletive team and put ourselves through expletive for the chance at seeing history, affixing ourselves to it, and proclaiming to the world, "Holy expletive! The Cubs won the Series!"

It is stupid. It is far-fetched. It is a terrible commentary on our intellect. But it is our hope, and it's all we got. Well, that and a mighty fine bar in which to drown our sorrows.