Again, my hat is tipped to the Chicago Cubs, their players, their front office and yes, even their fans for winning the National League Central Division title. Job well done. I’ve commented on blogs galore, I’ve shaken your hands, I’ve stopped calling the cops when you fire bomb my house.
Congratulations on doing what you were supposed to do. You were picked to win the Central. You went out and spent a lot of money to win the Central. So, it should be no surprise that you did indeed win the Central.
But I have absolutely no patience (nor the stomach) for this kind of crap sprawled across my Sunday paper:
If it weren’t for my sadistic infatuation with the shooting incidents finely described in the Metro section, I’d cancel my Chicago Tribune subscription in a New York methamphetamine minute because their escalating sensationalist style of journalism is growing too tiresome to be considered real reportage.
Publishing a new book entitled This Is The Year?
The year for what!?!? Winning the division? Because that’s all you’ve done so far. Congratu-friggin-lations on that. You won the NL Central. You did that last year too. Remember? Where’s the book for that great feat of baseball achievement? Oh, there isn’t one? Well then, let’s write a book about this year then without having actually done anything of real importance?!?!
Is this for real? What else have you done this year that warrants a book banking/hoping/praying you’ll win the NLDS and then win the NLCS and then… win the WS?
This is exactly the reason why Cub fans hate themselves. They let the media and the hype and the curses and the exploding payrolls inflate their egos beyond the realms of sanity, so much so that they actually believe “this is the year” when they’ve still got a whole lot of work to do… just like they did when all they had to do was record five outs against the Marlins or win three games against the Diamondbacks or whatever the case may be this year.
Sure, it’s been a hundred years and the media loves this kind of story… look: I get it. But, don’t you think publishing a book called This Is The Year is a bit like asking that girl you like but haven’t talked to yet to marry you?
Yeah. Good luck with that.
I’m sure your manager, “Sweet” Lou Piniella, one of the smartest, classiest managers in the game, is loving your gung-ho holier-than-thou approach to the toughest part of the season. Because we all know (cue the sarcasm) that the playoff games preceding the world series crown are really meaningless, especially if you’ve got a book called This Is The Year.
Nothing guarantees a victory like premature jubilation.
Just ask Al Gore.
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.