Sammy's Skin

I thought this wasn't supposed to matter. Sammy Sosa hit 545 home runs in a Cubs uniform. Some people hate him because of his boom box. Some people hate him for cheating with a corked bat and a chemically altered physique. Some people hate him for caring more about putting on a show than being a good teammate. Some people hate him because it's fashionable.

Now Sammy Sosa's skin is lighter than it used to be. I understand neither why that's funny nor why anyone cares. But apparently people do.

Never mind the fact he was really good at baseball. Never mind the fact that he restored enthusiasm in baseball not only in Chicago but also in North America. Never mind that while he played with the Cubs he paid very little effort into anything other than being prepared to play baseball well and to entertain the fans who watched him.

But his skin is lighter now. So . . . LMFAO.

Rays in the Forest: Popular vs. Good

Take it from a Cubs fan, David: even 40,000 fans can't drown out embarrassment.

If Evan Longoria hits a 3-run homer in a forest, but no one is around to see it, did it really happen? Somewhere else in Florida there's a guy named Steve who would answer in the absolute affirmative, but Longoria himself and his teammate David Price aren't so sure.

Longoria told reporters that the sparse crowd of 12,446 at Tropicana Field, on a night when the Rays had a chance to clinch a spot in the postseason, was embarrassing and disheartening. As shown above, Price shared the sentiment on Twitter, where it has been publicized to exponentially more people than the number who witnessed the best team in baseball getting shutout by the Orioles.

The embarrassment of the Rays seems like some strange Prince and the Pauper allusion when compared to that of the Chicago Cubs. The Cubs have the fans, the fame, and the Fortune 500 owner*, but the Rays have something the Cubs wouldn't mind trading places to experience: 93 wins and a magic number of 1** . . . and a little less pressure from the media and fans.

So which is more desirable: being popular or being good?

Being a Cubs Fan Is Depressing

Ron Santo is a pretty joyful guy, but not even he can deny the depressing nature of Cub fandom.

I'm doing everything I can to make this post depressing. Photo of a glum Ron Santo: check. Ironic photo-manipulation isolating a single splash of Cubby Blue: zing. Sad song from Garden State: posted. Discussion of being a Cubs fan: would have gone without saying had it not been for my blatant disregard for the rule of threes.

If I'm discussing the Cubs, all the other stuff is just Spielbergesque manipulative emotional overkill. The depression is happening. If you're a Cubs fan, that is. Non-Cubs fans often derive great pleasure from discussing the Cubs and their fans. For White Sox fans it's cathartic. For people who just don't like baseball in general it vindicates their choice of pastime. For genuinely, clinically depressed people it might even be humorous that a self-chosen preference for the Chicago National League ball club could take the place of a chemical imbalance in immersing someone in melancholy. But for Cubs fans it's just a sad reality.

Quaalude Quade

Is Quade the stress-relief drug the Cubs have been looking for?

The Cubs just concluded their best road trip of 9 games or more in team history. They won in blowout fashion with a lineup in which Sam Fuld was the seasoned veteran, a lineup that consisted exclusively of rookies and minor-league call-ups. The team has gone 17-7 since Quade took over for Lou Piniella, scoring 5.1 runs per game and yielding just 4 per contest over that stretch.

His tenure hasn't been without adversity. I (among many others) questioned the way he handled the Castro benching. And not that it had anything to do with Quade, but just yesterday the Cubs lost Geovany Soto to surgery and Tyler Colvin to a life-threatening bat shard to the chest (something that would never happen to anyone if MLB cared to fix the problem). But the Quade win train keeps on rolling.

A lot of people attribute the Cubs' good fortune to the absence of Lou or Quade's superiority to Lou, which I find preposterous. Lou's time at the helm ended against a string of five teams with winning records. Quade has had it much easier. The Quade-led Cubs (heretofore known as the Qubs) have faced just two +.500 teams. Qub opponents have a combined season winning percentage of .472, and the six series they have won have been against opponents with a collective .455 win rate. The only good team the Qubs have dominated has been the St. Louis Cardinals, who have had just one day off since August 23 (and won't have another before season's end)—they are 10-17 in that stretch. Quade hasn't exactly been a giant-killer.

But under Lou, the Cubs weren't anything-killers. Overall, the Cubs have a 41-43 record against sub-500 teams in 2010. So while I don't think it's at all fair to compare Quade's two-dozen games managed to Lou's 3,548, I am curious to know if Quade has had a relaxing effect on the Qubs. A lot of people are saying they're thriving in September's low-pressure environment, but there hasn't been any realistic pressure on this team since July. And, with the exception of the Cards, none of the teams the Qubs have won series against are feeling much pressure either. So I don't think we can dismiss the entire positive swing exclusively to low-pressure situations and low-talent opponents.

Maybe the Qubs are feeling less pressure, less stress, and less performance-hampering anxiety because of Mike Quade.

I have often argued that a manager isn't likely to add or detract much to a team's ability to play, but I will add that the Cubs' Achilles heel has often been their penchant for buckling in critical situations. I won't blame any manager for that. I have, mostly in jest, blamed the fans for that. But Milton Bradley said it. Lou Piniella said it. Ozzie Guillen said it. Derrek Lee said it. All of them agree that there is a negative pressure on the Cubs that requires them to compete against 29 other teams and 100+ years of history. If there is one quality that could put one candidate ahead of the rest in my eyes, it would be the ability to shield the team from that pressure or to use it productively.

I don't know if Mike Quade really has that skill, but it seems like he very well might. And the simple fact of the matter is that if Quade is the manager in 2011, there will almost certainly be less pressure simply because of the fact that his name carries no expectations with it. I'd be willing to take that low-risk gamble.

The Shocking Truth: The Cubs Are Us

The Cubs are people! They're made out of PEOPLE!!!!  

The Cubs are people, and I don't mean they are a team comprised of human beings. They are that, but . . . no to the duh. I'm saying the Cubs consist of a litany of metaphors for people just like you or me or that guy who keeps sniffing his fingers on the train. It's like the Cubs assembled a motley cast of unremarkable human beings and, instead of putting them all in a house for a reality show, they processed, amalgamated, and packaged them into a baseball team.

The Cubs are people. The Cubs are you. If any of these statements don't apply to you, just look over your shoulder. Somewhere lurking behind you is the statement's intended recipient.

You don't like your job, and you dream of finding a better one. But you know tomorrow you'll be right back in that cubicle. You're the Cubs. The Cubs are  you.

You'd like a bigger house, but at the end of the day you know what's really important is the people that make life special. Achieving your wildest dreams would be nice, but enjoying life wherever you are is what counts. You're the Cubs. The Cubs are you.

You know that sometimes the only way to address your problems is to self-medicate, be the prescription alcohol, narcotics, or donuts. You're the Cubs. The Cubs are you.

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.

The Cubsmos is Trapped in High School

2010: A Fail Odyssey

I never know what to call the group of all people associated with but not necessarily a part of the Cubs organization: the fans, the media, the bloggers, the whoever. Cubdom. The Cubosphere. The Cubbieverse. Cub Nation. The Fail and Losing Community. We. They. The Empty Set. For the moment, I have decided on the Cubsmos. Instead of the Cosmos, not to be confused with the magazine or the drink or the Kramer. But I digress.

The Cubsmos, or at least large factions within it, seems to be trapped in the past. Not a specific date or era like 1908 or '69 or the Bartman game. We're trapped in high school, maybe junior high. As I did then, I'd love to escape the embittered, disenfranchising subculture of vindictive cliques, the suppressed insecure rage, the bizarre false sense of entitlement and melodramatic mock tragedy. But here we are in Cubsmos High. I was going to give ten reasons, and maybe I will at some point, but here are my two favorites.

The Crotchety Old Coach/Gym Teacher thinks ridicule and public punishments are the best motivators. Athletes aren't professionals, they're slimy, cocksure ingrates who need to be put in their place. Lack of hustle? Benched! Brain lapse? Benched and insulted! Don't run out a pop up? You'll do push-ups until I get tired! I'm sorry . . . but didn't we hate that guy? Didn't high school, in a roundabout way, teach us  it might be a better idea to treat people with respect and handle matters in a civilized, private, non-roid-rage manner?

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)

Reserve Your Cubs World Series Tickets Now!

This is the year! Seriously. Kind of.

Major League Baseball has a brand new innovation this year that makes it possible for even us lowly Cubs fans to reserve our place in line for World Series tickets . . . in 2010! I wish I was kidding. Well, I wish I wasn't being sarcastic about not kidding.

For the low, low price of $20 ($10 for NLDS and $15 for NLCS) any fan can reserve the opportunity to buy World Series tickets at the home ballpark of his or her choosing (plus a $1 per order transaction fee, because it wouldn't be MLB if they didn't charge you for the convenience of buying the right to buy something).  So you can go right now and be assured that if the Cubs make the World Series, you'll have a chance to buy a ticket at face value. No strings attached. No chance in hell attached, either, but that's your gamble.

Article | First Things: The Perfect Game

Article | First Things: The Perfect Game:

"These—and I shall close on this thought—are the great moral lessons that only a game with baseball’s long season and long history and dramatic intensity can impress on the soul: humility, long-suffering, dauntless love, and inexhaustible faith in the face of invincible misfortune. I could no more abandon my Orioles than I could repudiate my family, or my native heath, or my own childhood—even though I know it is a devotion that can now bring only grief. I know, I know: Orioles fans have not yet suffered what Boston fans suffered for more than twice the term of Israel’s wanderings in the wilderness, or what Cubs fans have suffered for more than a century; but we have every reason to expect that we will. And yet we go on. The time of tribulation is upon us, and we now must make our way through its darkness, guided only by the waning lights of memory and the flickering flame of hope, not knowing when the night will end but sustained by the sacred assurance that whosoever perseveres to the end shall be saved."

If you thought I took baseball seriously (I do) or that the fans kind enough to comment here feel strongly about the Cubs (they do) you should read this description of baseball as the perfect game. (h/t to my Russian friend, Elena, to whom I taught everything I could about baseball and who taught me everything I know about the Russian language)

WWCFD?

Bracelets always help make decisions easier.

Derrek Lee exercised his no-trade clause to void a deal that would have sent him to the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, California Past the Second Hot-Dog Stand. He told reporters that he agonized over the decision, but ultimately decided to stay with the Cubs for the remainder of the year because it's better for his family to do so.

Doug Glanville recently posted his thoughts on just how hard it is on a ballplayer to change teams midyear, and I'm sure there's a lot of truth to that. But what if there wasn't? What if it were simply a change of wardrobe and an increased chance of winning? If you were in Derrek Lee's place, and changing teams had absolutely no effect on you outside the world of baseball, would you do it?

Because that's exactly the scenario facing every Cubs fan in the world. Switching teams would be painless. I could become an Angels fan right now, and the only thing it would cost me would be the price of a new hat, some t-shirts, and the pro-rated deal to watch the remaining Angels games on mlb.tv. Seriously, I could turn this into an Angels blog overnight or whatever team I choose.

You could do it, too. If you want to trade yourself to the Yankees, here's the Replacement Level Yankees Weblog to get you started. Become a fan, enjoy the wins, and put the mock-agony that is being a Cubs fan in your rearview mirror. You're welcome.

Don't bother telling me how different it is, because I've already established that it's a lot different. It's harder on a baseball player to switch teams. It would be easy for you. That's how it's different. Yet you still don't want to do it. Actually, if you have, I won't hold the decision against you any more than I blame Derrek Lee for not switching teams.

I'd like to know, now that the Astros have tossed yet another shovelful of dirt onto the Cubs' coffin, will you switch teams for a shot at cheering for a winner? Put on the bracelet and decide, and then get back to me with your thoughts on Derrek Lee's much tougher choice.

What the Past Year Has Told Us About the Ricketts(es)

Pete, Todd, Laura, and Tom Ricketts discuss plans to launch a Fat Albert cover band.

I've heard from a lot of Cubs fans who believe the Jim Hendry not-yet firing (and the fire sale that still lacks the spark The Boss told us was essential for such matters) tells you all you really need to know about the Ricketts family. There isn't consensus on what that is, but people's opinions on the matter have galvanized considerably. Here's the gist of some of the varied views:

The Ricketts are typical fans who plan on catering to their own kind. They don't know what they're doing, they're fueled by emotions and dreams and rainbows and latent racism, and deep down they probably have no desire to win as long as everyone enjoys their time at the ballpark.

We knew the Ricketts were fans when their names emerged as candidates to buy the team, but I don't know what they've done that reflects the mob mentality of fans in general. Some say the Ricketts were behind Milton Bradley's suspension. Others point to the decision to stay in Mesa. In my mind, both of those were no-brainers although the former seemed more like a vitriolic response straight from Hendry while the latter resembled shrewd business and political manipulation, not blind adherence to tradition. And keeping Hendry hardly represents the typical fan sentiment.

I just don't see how a fan mentality has reared its irrational head in any significant way just yet.

The Ricketts are slimy suits who care only about money. I try to make it clear whether by illustration or direct statement that I know nothing about business (the lack of ads on this site says that quite loudly), but my gut tells me that the net return on the Ricketts family's investment in the Cubs is somewhere along the lines of -$800 million. People like to point to George Steinbrenner's windfall from increasing the value of the Yankees franchise 100 fold, but The non-Springsteen Boss bought low on the Bronx Bombers. The Cubs are never going to be a $2 billion franchise, let alone a $100 billion franchise.

Yes, they have implemented a number of revenue gimmicks: the ticket pre-sale, the noodle, and the Who Wants to Be A Middle Reliever? game show. But keeping Hendry and endorsing his "we're not rebuilding, we're competing" mentality is not the move of someone who prizes revenue over winning. Hendry doesn't exactly follow the Andy McPhail Guide to Winning on the Cheap. If the Ricketts just want revenue, their going about it all wrong, and I don't think they got rich by being that stupid.

Second-Half Survival Strategies for Cubs Fans

The goal is to capture the flag. When that fails, try to avoid looking like a total idiot (unless idiocy is your strategy).

The Cubs begin play today 10 games under .500 and 10 games behind the Central Division's new leaders, the St. Louis Cardinals. They're 4th in the Central and 9th (9.5 GB) in the Wild Card standings. None of those circumstances fill me with joy, but the state of the 2010 Cubs season makes me feel a lot like Miracle Max overlooking the Man in Black's mostly dead body: I've seen worse.

Aside from going through the team's pockets to look for loose change, the prevailing opinion among pessimists, realists, and guarded optimists has been that the Cubs should hold a fire sale. Toss the bulky expiring contracts overboard like so much ballast from the sinking ship and try to sail again next year (or the year after that {or the year after that}). Other more delightedly delusional fans think it's not too late for the Cubs (yes, the Chicago Cubs) to make a run at the postseason. These fans seem open to a trade or two, but the only white flags they want to see waving at Wrigley are the ones of the rarely used W variety.

I don't know what the Cubs should (or even can) do, but I want to help you, my fellow Cubs fan, understand what your options are as our team finishes out the remaining 70 games in this seemingly interminable season. Is it too late to hope, and what should we be hoping for? Let's survey the landscape and see what mindset will result in the fewest headaches and/or heartbreaks.

What Cubs Fans Can Learn from LeBron

I've heard wanting to win at all costs is a way of life, too, but I'll have to take LeBron's word for it. Maybe it has something to do with being a Yankees fan.

Opinions about LeBron James's decision are like pirated versions of the summer blockbuster Inception; if you're an absolute Google expert, I'm sure you can find at least one online. Alright, maybe I've understated the ubiquity of Lebronology on the Interweb, but this topic is experiencing a dearth of understatement, so I thought I'd do my best to help out.

The Decision, for its depraved lack of subtlety, is not without its valuable lessons. LeBron made a rather sick display, Cavs owner Dan Gilbert responded in kind, and every sports journalist in America (along with some ESPN employees) overreacted to both of them. All of the overreactions can teach us Cubs fans a thing or three about the dangers inherent in caring about sports.

Sport is, by definition, an exercise in amusement, so the waves of reactionary rage rippling through the sports world betray the concept of entertainment just a tad. For LeBron, basketball is his profession (as is inflating his image, and I don't mean that sarcastically; his image is his livelihood). I understand why this is important to him. Dan Gilbert stands to lose a lot of games and a lot of money, so I understand why he's angry along with the citizens of Cleveland who suffer the economic ramifications of LBJ's departure. The rest of the outrage feeds off moral indignation and jilted fanaticism. I ride on both bandwagons as much as the next guy, so I can't criticize too heavily except to say we should all probably just move on to the learning stage of this saga.

The first lesson, taught by Professor James, is that people who win don't befriend too many losers along the way. The New York Yankees and their fans don't care that you don't like them. Their goal is not to win friends but to win championships. If the public were to arrive at a consensus that the Yankees are fair, modest, and considerate of the desires of their small-market competitors, someone by the name of Steinbrenner would start firing people until that perception met it its untimely doom. Anyone who really wants to win at all costs will suffer a considerable amount of hatred and dismiss it happily as collateral damage.

An insatiable desire to win will make people do unpopular things. For those with power, talent, and foresight, acts of desperation usually correspond to strides of great progress (and the occasional embarrassing LeBronesque largesse). For the Cubs and their fans, desperation usually just leads to stupidity. We want the Cubs to win so badly, we're willing to believe it's possible. We'll offer up suggestions that, if followed, are sure to make it happen. We'll buy tickets and merchandise and electronic delivery systems that allow us to feed the Cubs' coffers in the hopes that our financial and emotional investments will lead to a championship that is all the more honorable and valuable because of its overwhelming unlikelihood.

When the miracle doesn't happen, we have a chance to learn the lesson taught in glorious Comic Sans by Dan Gilbert. He was angry. Langston Hughes told us what to expect when a dream is deferred, and in Gilbert's case, it exploded. It's not cause for intense analysis anymore than Z's dugout tirade was. He was angry. Angry people say and do stupid things sometimes. Whoa! Shocker! The lesson: don't put a whole lot of stock in what angry people say. And maybe try not to get so angry about a game.

When the Cubs lose, we tend to respond by saying ridiculously stupid things. Sometimes in defiance of the team, sometimes in their defense, but more often than not in stupidity. I don't want to begrudge people their murderous Cubs rants. They are what they are. I just want to make sure we understand that what they are is generally stupid. It's a way of life, not a way of genius.

The third and final lesson comes from all the fans and media members who feel the need to spout off about these events as though it's Churchill and Roosevelt in whose hands the state of the world rests. I don't expect people to stop discussing it, but do we have to take it all so seriously? The same goes for the Cubs. Obviously, I'm a Cubs blogger so I'm devoting an unnatural allotment of time and effort to this baseball team. It's a sickness, and I understand that. Save yourselves! But seriously, if I may be so bold, I suggest we enjoy this team for the amusement they provide and to walk away when it starts feeling like suffering. Maybe not a total break up, but a break nonetheless. Hey, look, it's three days off, right on time!

To sum up the LeBron thoughts, we have ambitious guy, angry guy, and analyst people, all of whom are primarily concerned with a bouncy ball and guys in shorts. I'm as guilty as anyone of caring too much about any of that. And all I've got to say is . . .

Swing Away, Ryan

Yes, Ryan Theriot swung at this pitch.

If I were to rank the complaints of Cubs fans this year on a scale of frequency and intensity of the rants, Ryan Theriot's approach at the plate would probably rank somewhere around the 4th spot in between Zambrano's tumult and John Grabow's existence. Honestly, the objections of this fan base are so voluminous and varied, ranking them would be almost as difficult as addressing them.

Ordered lists of grievances aside, we can all agree that Ryan Theriot's concept of patience has forced Cub fans to lose theirs. He swings at the ceremonial first pitch. He swings at bean balls. When the visiting team hits a home run, his biggest regret is not having a bat to swing when the bleacher bums throw the ball back. There's no question what the perception is: Theriot loves to swing at the first pitch. I guess my only remaining questions are, Does he? and Should he?

Does Ryan Theriot love to swing at the first pitch?
First of all, I think what really bothers everyone (justifiably or not) isn't that Theriot swings at the first pitch so much as that he puts the first pitch in play. You can see from Theriot's plate discipline numbers that he swings at a smaller percentage of pitches out of the strike zone than the rest of the league, so it's not a matter of Theriot swinging at bad pitches. So if he swings at a strike on the first pitch without putting it in play, the act of swinging really has no effect whatsoever other than maybe giving Theriot a better sense of timing. When Theriot swings, though, he makes contact 90.3% of the time (the 13th highest contact rate in the majors), so I really don't think people are complaining about his first-pitch whiffs so much as his short at-bats.

So let's just look at the plate appearances in which Theriot puts the first pitch into play, a pretty frequent occurrence. In 2010, just over 18% of Theriot's PAs have lasted exactly one pitch. League average is about 11%. For his career, almost 16% of Riot's plate appearances are one-pitch affairs, so he has definitely earned the reputation for hitting the first pitch more than the average player (and definitely more than the prototypical leadoff hitter). This year he's been even more slap-happy than normal, but not much. A 2% increase represents about 14 PAs per season, and I highly doubt anyone has noticed that Theriot is hitting the first pitch an additional eight one-hundredths of a plate appearance per game.

That being said, yes, Ryan Theriot does seem to love that first pitch. Is that so wrong?


Should Ryan Theriot love to swing at the first pitch?
There are those who would say no regardless of evidence to the contrary. Since Theriot has been semi-regularly batting in the leadoff position, the unwritten (but oft spoken) rule dictates that he should take as many pitches as possible. It's his job, I'm told, to work the count and get on base as often as possible. And in those cases when the pitcher just made the second out, he is required by law to take at least two strikes and foul off at least three pitches if necessary to give the pitcher at least a five-pitch time span in which to rest.

Forgive me for challenging the conventional wisdom, but I do think his main job is to reach base as frequently as possible and to advance as far along the basepaths as he can. I'd prefer to use wOBA, but without the split information for that particular stat I'll look at OPS first. If Theriot's on-base plus slugging numbers are better when swinging at the first pitch than in other situations, wouldn't it be advisable (or at the very least forgivable) for him to continue in his relative impatience?

Well guess what: they are. For his career, Theriot's AVG/OBP/SLG line is .349/.351/.453 when he hits (or gets hit by) the first pitch he sees, putting his 1st-pitch OPS at .803 (it's .807 this year, so let's just stick with the career numbers for better sample size). Now let's look at those numbers in plate appearances he allows to go more than one pitch. After the count reaches 1-0, Theriot's line is .287/.406/.387. Yes, his OBP goes up significantly, but his slugging plummets as well, yielding an OPS of .793. Keep in mind, that's throughout Theriot's career on all PAs that start with him taking a pitch and getting ahead in the count.

The difference is extremely slight, but Theriot's ability to inflict damage on the opposition has been better when he hits the first pitch than when he gains the 1-0 advantage. What about after a first pitch strike? .266/.306/.309 with a .615 OPS. If  you'd rather see Theriot take that first pitch for a strike, you must really put a lot of stock into the benefit of "showing his teammates what the pitcher has to offer," because the difference between hitting and taking that first strike is pretty damaging to Theriot's chances.

All told, here's Theriot's career line in plate appearances that last longer than one pitch: .275/.352/.343 (.695 OPS). Here's the net difference in his line when a Ryan Theriot PA goes beyond the one-pitch mark: -.074/+.001/-.110. So, yeah, when Theriot lets an at-bat go any longer than the minimum, he actually decreases his OPS by .109.

Complain about Theriot leading off and I'll agree with you. Demand his trade and I won't bat an eye. But to those clamoring for longer Theriot at-bats, I beg of you to find a new tree up which to bark. Theriot's love affair with pitch 1 is well founded. Don't try to get in between those two. They will very likely both hit you.

Ode to Milton

The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.

Milton Bradley and Chicago were the thorns in each other's sides in 2009. No one disagrees that things didn't work out, but there remains wide disagreement as to why.

Was the fault Milton's? Did the media intentionally provoke him? Did the racist and/or temperamental fans uncork his rage? Was it just the perfect storm of blame, like BP's greedy recklessness meeting America's insatiable oil dependence?

Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace

And rest can never dwell, hope never comes

That comes at all.

I don't know, and I don't really care to discuss Milton's time in Chicago. But I do want to take a retrospective look at the decision to bring him to Chicago and the animosity people continue to have toward him. I'm not so interested in what went wrong as much as I'm wondering how I should feel about signing a guy like Bradley or toward Bradley himself now that he's gone.

First the decision to take on Bradley's baggage. Julie at LOHO wrote a fantastic post awhile back including a timeline of Bradley's personal misadventures on and off the field. Jim Hendry knew about all of that, but was convinced by Milton himself that a new leaf had been turned. Was he an idiot to take that $30 million gamble?

I know the obvious answer to that question, so I want to ignore the financial aspect and the baseball statistics.  On a matter of basic human relations, is it dumb to trust someone with a checkered past and believe he or she can change for the better? I regret to confess my natural inclination: yeah, it's incredibly stupid. But I also think you can't afford to go through this life without extending a little bit of stupid trust to people who ask for and depend on it.

Now conscience wakes despair

That slumber'd,—wakes the bitter memory

Of what he was, what is, and what must be

Worse.

The cost of being burned by someone like Milton who disappoints your hopes and makes you look like a fool is smaller, I believe, than the price of quarantining yourself from anyone who has ever made more than their fair share of mistakes.

Obviously factors such as $30 million do make a difference in that philosophy. An ex-con wants to park my car? No problem. He wants to date my daughter? Not so trusting there, pal. But Milton's not an ex-con, he's just a troubled individual who wants to play baseball. In hindsight, I don't mind that Hendry gave Bradley a shot. I wish it had gone better, but I hope it hasn't destroyed his faith in humanity . . . or mercurial outfielders.

But now that our relationship as Cubs fans with Milton Bradley is over (or at least I thought it was), I don't feel the need to close the book on my opinion of him as a person. Just as I would be willing to overlook the past transgressions of a player on his way to the Cubs, I don't think it's fair to define Milton Bradley by the things he did and said as a Cub—much less by the small sliver of his existence that the media reports.

A dismal universal hiss, the sound

Of public scorn.

Some people are waiting for an apology. That's fair, I guess. Others just want nothing to do with him, and I can understand that, too. A lot of people, like certain fans in attendance at Seattle and Cubs color analysts, seem to have an active disdain for the guy. They feel how they feel. I feel better letting it go and wishing him well. That doesn't make me a better person, but it does cut down on my stress level.

In some sense, I think Milton's struggle is my struggle. There are things I'd like to change about myself, and I hope it's not a waste of time. If I judge Milton as a lost cause, I don't know what hope I can have for myself. I certainly don't think my hatred or anyone's will help Milton improve. And shouldn't I want that for him? Or do the people booing Milton want him to stay who he is, or who they think he is, the vile enemy of all that is good and the rightful bearer of all blame?

I think a lot of people speak so loudly about Milton's shortcomings so they can feel better about their own. In the grand configuration, I just think that kind of approach brings us all down. With all apologies to John Donne . . .

Any man's downfall diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the crowd boos; it boos for me.

Curse of Cubs Fans pt. 5: We Don't Want to Win

"Now look-a-here, fella. You got that eye wide open. An' ya dirty, ya stink. Ya jus' askin' for it. Ya like it. Lets ya feel sorry for yaself. 'Course ya can't get no woman with that empty eye flappin' aroun'. Put somepin over it an' wash ya face." Tom Joad, The Grapes of Wrath

Admit it, Cubs fans, we don't really want this team to win. Cheering for a team that hasn't won in over a century is a Cubbie-blue badge of courage that each and every one of us wears with pride . . . or abject humiliation of which we are proud. Deep down, we hope a World Series win will never force us to lose the emblem of our misery.

If the Cubs were to win it all, it would destroy our brand. That stupid, pennant-laden trophy would rob us of our most valuable and most pathetic commodity: our wounded puppy look. As long as we have donned the ubs-encircling C, we have known that nothing is expected of us. Some feel sorry for us. Others despise us. But whatever the reaction to our miserable appearance, no one ever thinks, "There's a person just trying to be happy."

That has to change, Cubs fans. We have to stop the whining, moaning, and woe-is-me-ing. We also have to stop the tidal wave of unwarranted optimism otherwise known as denial. The loyalty. They true-blue die-hardism. The foulweather fandom. It's all a mask for our subconscious need to self-destruct. If we really want to be happy, we've gotta clean up and embrace real hope and genuine opportunity.

We've gotta cheer for someone with a chance. Yankees. Red Sox. Rays. Cardinals.

Wait, wait, wait. I'm kidding. I'm obviously kidding. I can't take it any longer. This has been the worst week of my Cub blogging life. I mean, I'm used to writing crap, but it's usually not this intentional. I know Cubs fans aren't to blame for the team losing (though we do plenty that simply doesn't help matters). I just wondered how fans would feel to be the butt of ridiculous criticism.

We call perennial All-Stars bums. We call future Hall-of-Fame managers idiots. We demand the firing of the most successful general manager in the team's history on a daily basis. We wonder why the new owners haven't won a World Series three month's into their first season at the helm. I get it, the Cubs are losing, and not all their decisions have worked out or even made any sense. I just don't comprehend the hubris.

I don't care what the Disney movies taught you about dreaming big and believing in yourself, you would not do better at third than Aramis Ramirez. You wouldn't be a better manager than Lou Piniella. You probably couldn't hire a better GM than Jim Hendry let alone do a better job at it than he has.

Meh. Everyone's entitled to their opinions, but most of them are better kept private, especially when they have very little basis in fact, logic, and at least a tiny sliver of compassion.

Curse of Cubs Fans pt. 4: We're Morans

Whoever made this picture should have explained what upside-down-U means.

I'll try to keep this simple for all of us who are as dumb as I am. My paragraphs will be short.

I have already made it perfectly clear that Cubs baseball makes me stupid. I wish I was kidding. Or I wish I were kidding. I don't know, whatever. Watching the Cubs makes me dumb, and I think it attracts dumb people or people who wish to be as dumb as me. Or I. My head hurts.

The point is, the Cubs stink because it is the destiny of people dumb enough to cheer for them to never be rewarded for our foolishness. Stick your fingers under a running lawnmower, and you'll never in a hundred years be glad you did. Same goes for being a Cubs fan. 

There probably are some smart people who like the Cubs, but I think they're just put in place by Yankee fans to keep us from endangering the rest of the population. Without proper supervision, we might just go around rooting for car wrecks or proving we can fly off of buildings. Sure, we could prove Darwin right, but we might take out some intelligent bystanders along with us, and that just isn't fair.

You know what is fair? The Cubs never winning. We deserve it. We're dumb. Actually, the Cubs could probably win the World Series this year, and we just may be too stupid to realize what's going on. We're that dumb. I think we are. I don't know. 

All I do know is that being too stupid is the criticism usually levied against management and players when they don't succeed, so it's only fair for to subject ourselves to the same argument. I only know that because I tattooed it on my arm during an off day. 

I don't know what it means, though. If any fans of other teams would like to explain it to me, I'd really appreciate it.

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)

Curse of Cubs Fans pt. 3: No Pressure

Yesterday I suggested that pressure from Cubs fans is having a detrimental effect on the players' ability to perform. Today I'm here to tell you that I was 100% out of my gourd. That's not the problem with Cubs fans. For the past few years we've played the part of a fan base with great expectations, but let's be real: all the "this is the year" talk was just our dreams talking. Deep down we all knew the Cubs have no intentions of winning, but we don't let that dissuade us from cheering for the team. This song is our motto: I will always love you.



What's causing the Cubs downfall this year and every year is the genuine and firmly entrenched belief in the hearts and minds of all Cub players and coaches: We don't have to win. We'll still get paid. We'll still have each other. The fans will still love us.

The Cubs don't have to win. They don't even have to put a good team on the field. All the organization has to do to keep the turnstiles spinning is toss us a few Dora giveaways, a beanie baby here and there, and trot Denise Richards into the press booth for a rousing rendition of "Pay No Attention To My Voice, Please." Win and we'll buy everything you're selling. Lose, and we'll complain. But our numbers won't ever decrease, not really.

Organizationally, the front office merely has to create the illusion of trying. As long as there's at least one player who can hit 40 or so homers or one pitcher who can strike out a dozen guys (or draw Chuck-Norris style worship of him manliness) the club's cult following will remain intact. And if you don't touch the ivy or the scoreboard, the house of worship that is Wrigley Field will never lack parishioners.

Psychologically, the players know perfectly well that if they give their 75% best, the fans will cheer as though they're seeing Babe Ruth outperform his prime. If Derrek Lee can play like Bill Buckner, we'll applaud him like he's Lou Gehrig. Every now and then we'll boo to preserve the illusion, but come on . . . we love these guys through thick and thin. Not that we can remember what thick is like.

What incentive does any player or team have to succeed in Chicago? The best ever celebration if they do win it all? Big deal! Why go the extra mile of winning a World Series when they're lauded like kings if they win the Pirates series?

If we really want the Cubs to win it all, we've got to stop going to games altogether. Stop watching games. Don't even check the box scores until the division is clinched.

And when we do go, boo them mercilessly unless they win. By seven runs. Even then, mild applause is sufficient. We've got to stop being the Generation X parent who praises the simplest accomplishment. Do you really want the Cubs to carry around that sense of entitlement and inflated esteem? No! We've got to become the old-school parents of baby boomers who reward Nobel-worthy feats with brief respites from corporeal punishment.

Grand slam, Theriot? Congratulations. No belt to the back of the legs until tomorrow. You made it to the World Series? Okay, I'll disallow comments on my "Embalm Lou Piniella" post until you lose again.

The cheering, the love, the loyalty? It's ruining this team.