Source of Silva's Luck: The Other Guy on the Mound

Silva avoids a pitch from the best pitcher he's faced all year: Dan Haren (who's having a sub-par year)

I've been wanting to post something about Carlos Silva for the last few weeks as his undefeated record begins to look more and more impressive (and the deal that brought him here appears increasingly miraculous), but I have hesitated because a) I didn't want to jinx it, b) I don't want to spew skepticism, c) I don't feel the need to diminish what has been one of the few feel-good stories of the season.

But let's face it, all of us have that nagging itch somewhere along the cerebral cortex telling us this won't last. You know how every cartoon has an episode in which the protagonist finds a map to some buried treasure or enter a contest with a ridiculously generous prize, and they come tantalizingly close to acquiring riches that will change their lives (and the nature of the cartoon) forever, but you know deep down the creators of the show will never ever allow them to get what they're after?

Such is Carlos Silva's season. We know he can't be this good, right? Well, watching him pitch, especially in his most recent outings, it's pretty obvious that he really is outpitching the expectations. That's not a fluke, it's reality. But the money stat everyone's staring at, the booty to Carlos Silva's J-Lo, is his 8-0 record. (His 2.93 ERA ain't too shabby, either.)

As much as any of us know that the Win stat is the most overvalued, meaningless number in all of sports record keeping, 8-0 still looks pretty darn impressive. I, for one (representing millions, I'm sure), am scratching my head trying to figure out how Silva could be so lucky. Because he's been good, but not 8-0 good.

Cubs Fans, Bloggers React to Simpson Signing

I'm not an expert (read: I know absolutely nothing) about the baseball draft or ranking prospects, so I figured it would be an informative service to you, loyal reader, to put together a video highlight reel of the wide and varied reactions from across the Cubs community and the baseball world as a whole to the selection of Hayden Simpson in the first round. Enjoy:

Top Ten Ideas to Get D-Lee and A-Ram Hitting

They've done it like this. They've done it like that. They should try it with a Wiffle Ball bat.

If Derrek Lee and Aramis Ramirez could hit again, the comparisons of the Cubs' offense to the effects of an enlarged prostate would stop. But until things get flowing properly, here are 10 suggestions to help the slow, unpredictable trickle of corner-infield hits to get back to the rushing stream of extra-base hits we all expected.

Top Ten Ideas to Get D-Lee and A-Ram Hitting


10. Stop calling them D-Lee and A-Ram.

9. Let them use Wiffle Ball bats for increased bat speed.

8. Three words: Little. Jerry. Seinfeld.

7. Have them look in the mirror. That's what they all suggested Milton Bradley do, anyway.

6. Last one to get a hit each game wears the Hello Kitty backpack.

5. Convince them that while their abysmal start has been an absolute joke, it's still no replacement for Kevin Millar.

4. Give their mothers 10-year visas.

3. After three strikes: bring out the tee.

2. Substitute their advanced scouting videos with 15 hours of Lou Piniella saying, "Look, I don't know what else I can do."

1. 1980s campy movie solution: most triumphant video.

Harry Caray Was Awesome

This isn't an anniversary of any significance that I know of. I was just remembering this morning how much fun Harry Caray was to listen to. Sometimes he personified excitement. Other times he defied explanation. But it was never, ever boring to listen to. For all his rough edges, he was a broadcasting genius and a marketer's dream. And I miss hearing what he would have said about this team . . . or this world.

So here are two clips. The first, a video adaptation of a Harry Caray anti-Cracker-Jack rant, posted a couple of years ago by the folks at Just One Bad Century. It's classic Harry.



And then there's this footage of Harry singing the seventh inning stretch, despite his disdain for the marketing crooks behind sailor jack & bingo. Take special note of the production artistry of Arne Harris and the colossal fashion fail that was the mid-1980s.



We miss you, Harry.

Day-Off Reflections: Retroactive Perfection

The perfect reaction to a terrible call.

I didn't even know who Armando Galarraga was until last night. From the 15 seconds of video I've seen of him (80,000 times in the last 12 hours) he seems like the greatest pitcher and finest human being ever to grace the city of Detroit. He's being lauded as the first pitcher ever to record a 28-out perfect game, because Jim Joyce blew the call on the would-be final out.

Of course, he wouldn't have had the opportunity to deprive Detroit of celebrating its first ever perfecto, the 21st in Major League history, and the third in less than a month if it hadn't been for Austin Jackson's convincing Willie Mays impersonation. And, yes, those last two links are to the same video. Jackson saved perfection a mere two plays before Joyce spread his arms outward and flew Galaragga's dream into oblivion.

Baseball parlance holds that a pitcher throws a perfect game, but a lot of things—maybe an infinite assortment of things involving every person in attendance—have to align in impeccable harmony to bring a perfect game to fruition. There is usually some amazing defensive spectacle, such as Jackson's back-to-the-infield basket grab or Dwayne Wise's walls-be-damned miracle (MLB packaged both catches into one clip, conveniently enough). But the burden of perfection extends to the easiest tasks as well, such as an umpire's routine semi-close out call at first or a third baseman's ability to range to his left.

For those of you who remember Kerry Wood's dominating tour de force, you know that what may have been the best pitched game in baseball history was two plays shy of perfect and one away from a no-hitter. A stray Kerry Wood fastball struck Craig Biggio in the 6th inning, but that's not what broke up the perfect game. No, in truly undramatic fashion, Ricky Gutierrez singled to left on a ground ball just past Kevin Orie; in fact, it seemed like he got a glove on it. But the official scorer, the White-Sox-loving Bob Rosenberg, deemed the play exceeded the reasonable expectations of out-making and called it a hit rather than an error. To this day, I wonder what would have happened if that play was ruled an error. But I just can't know.

Official scorers, though, don't figure into perfect games because there can be no errors (hence the term perfect). This is what makes the not-so-instant replay discussions a tad silly. If video replay had been in effect and the replay booth could have informed Jim Joyce of his wrongness mere seconds after he breathed the word safe, he could have inhaled it right back in, changed the call, and allowed the celebrations to ensue straightaway. That would have been perfect.

Much to the ire of fans of Tigers, amazing feats, and general statistical justice, baseball's officiating policy is far from perfect. Armando Galarraga needed it to be, but it failed him. That can't be undone. Galarraga himself and all his fans can convince themselves that they really did see a perfect game, but they would have to overlook the glaring imperfection known as the human element. Instead of the 21st perfect game in MLB history, it's the 237,992nd game to be marred by the flaws of everyone involved. Instead of Call your sons, call your daughters, it was Call the $*&*# batter OUT, *&@!-$^%&$#!!!


Even if Bud Selig overturns the call and rules the game technically perfect, the moment, the unforgettable calls, the leg-breaking celebrations and the unstained memories of how it all went down so perfectly, can never be brought back from the imaginary land of Should-have. You want to throw a perfect game, you need everyone to be perfect. You have to make perfect pitches. Your teammates have to make perfect plays (and score at least one run). The other team needs to be perfectly inept against your efforts. And an incredible amount of luck has to run perfectly in your favor as well.

And last, and in last night's case least, the arbiters of the game need to fairly and accurately call every batter out. The errors of the umpires and administrators of the sport itself stubbornly remain major players in a game where they're not welcome. I feel for Jim Joyce and the suffering he and his family have encountered because of one mistake, but he's part of an umpiring union that refuses to progress in a sporting organization with no detectable interest in improving. That's not a moment of weakness. That's full-on commitment to imperfection.

Just imagine if Armando Galarraga played a sport in which everyone was dedicated (or at least moderately agreeable) to getting absolutely everything right. That (and a 1908 reprise) would be perfect.

You Can Catch It All on WGN

Cubs on WGN? Niemi says NO!

Taking in Cubs games on WGN, both good-old channel 9 and AM 720, is a tradition that goes back as long as I've been a Cubs fan. (I'm aware that the Cubs existed in broadcast form before I began caring about them in 1981, but I honestly don't care about that, do you?) But tonight, the radio broadcast will be on WIND AM 560 to accommodate the Blackhawks. Apparently, Game 3 of the Stanley Cup Finals in Philadelphia is more important than Game 3 of the potential second consecutive sweep of the Cubbies in Pittsburgh.

I'd have to agree with appearances. This isn't the first time the Cubs have been preempted on their own flagship station. Before the early '90s sent the Bears station hopping across the left side of the Chicago radio dial, they would occasionally bump the broadcasts of their younger ursine brethren. But those were regular-season affairs for both teams, and it usually brought a sense of relief.

It seems like just last week that Cub fans couldn't wait for the 2009/2010 Bears to take the sting away from the 2009 Cub season. But that season had barely begun before we were waiting for the 2010 Cubs to alleviate the woes of another failed Bears season. Somewhere along the way, though, the 2009/2010 Blackhawks skated through and shattered the mediocrity threatening to take over this city.

And now they have a chance to claim WGN, the Stanley Cup, and the hearts of Chicago fans. I hope they do it in convincing fashion (aka making those sorry schmucks in Philly wish they had just dropped the series to Boston to save them from the embarrassment brought on by the team with the best jersey in sports).

Whether you tune in to hear Z return to the starting rotation or Lord Stanley's Cup return to Chicago, I hope you enjoy the sound of the state of Philadelphia bowing in humble desolation. Go HAWKS!

Issue One: Suck or Cynic?

No, seriously, get off my lawn.

I hated it when I was a kid, but I've grown to love The McLaughlin Group. Led by curmudgeonly debating dictator John McLaughlin, this talking-head free-for-all might carry the blame for the parade of political punditry running through television around the clock, but that's only because they do it right. They step on each other's sentences and stumble their way through a bipartisan spectrum (composed of drastically slanted extremes). It's entertaining, informative, and everything a political talk show should be.

Be that as it may, Johnny has drawn lighthearted criticism for his less-than-subtle manner of implying his cynical opinions are superior to all others, a caricature made famous by Dana Carvey and imitated by Cub fans everywhere.