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Monday, October 4

Postmortem, Part I

There are logical explanations for most things, but some things in life just cannot be explained away by scientific terms. For the ninety-seventh time, we ARE cursed, and the Cubs choked.

How am I feeling today? I'm not sad, I'm angry, but mostly disappointed. Simply put, we WERE supposed to win this year. When we stumbled at the All-Star break while the Cardinals spun right past us like moonshiners fleeing from Johnny Law, when it was obvious we would not be 2004 Division Champs, I held a public wake and funeral, and spent the rest of the year enduring your bleating about something called the "Wild Card". I told you all that this was NOT something that could be counted on, and yet, with one week to go, all the Cubs need do was take care of themselves, and they would succeed in controlling the uncontrollable.

I fought the urge, fought it hard, for I knew where it was going. I knew we wouldn't make it. With an one-dimensional offense, no closer, and a manager who has NEVER adjusted and never WILL, I knew we couldn't win.

We were one game up with six left!! All that succeeded in doing was making the eventual death that much more excruciating.

What to do for next year? A topic for later this week. I told you that I was disappointed. As cynical and wary as I am when it comes to the Cubs, I honestly thought that there was enough on the table to overcome whatever shortcomings they started the season with.

The main emotion I am dealing with though, today, is anger, and it's pointed at a few of you! It's directly pointed at CubFandom (registered trademark) and if you are part of the Kool-Aid drinking mainstream, I'm talking to you!

I am not a true judge of most things in life. My Gaydar is terrible; I can't play the stock market; my NFL Confidence Picks are a joke; I could find a lousy woman in a whole room of winners; and on and on. I only know a few things in life, really well. There are key intervals in every baseball season where it is critical to play well. The last week of the season, yes. But before that, one of the most crucial is the week after the All-Star break. The Cubs came out like stiff dogs who don't wanna go outside to do their bizness.

It was as clear as the back of my own hand to me, at that point, that the 2004 Cubs were a sham. But, when I said so, I got PILED ON but you rose-colored pollyanna drunkenmonkeys, holding your calendars and your pocket schedules, telling me that it was still Early.

In a year where:
- The top-paid SuperDuperGladiatorStar bitched, moaned, and played like shit;
- The other long-time clubhouse leader bitched at umpires and announcers alike;
- The so-called anchors of the so-called Greatest Staff in History got caught up in their own press clippings;
- The Best Manager in Baseball set up an Us-vs-Them siege in the one town where that is the most expressly stupid thing to ever do;
- Then, in the most schizophrenic ballpark in the bigs, told one and all that his Players would NOT change Their approach whatsoever just because of a "little wind";
- When the so-called Lovable Losers became the most unlovable bunch of fucksticks ever to wear the pinstripes...

...the Cubbie Faithful continued to grip onto their floppy hats, their $8 Old-Styles, and their blind faith that the team was so good that they would somehow turn around 40, 80, 120 games of fundamentally unsound, uninspired, and unsuccessful baseball and just March into the World Series.

This team did not deserve to win, it didn't from day one, there were too many injuries, too many egos to deflate, and even though Jim Hendry has done a magnificent job filling in several major holes the last two years, the few small remaining cracks eventually did us in.

If your closer doesn't think he can close; if your leadoff hitter wants to hit home runs; if the heart of the order keeps trying to smash fly balls into the teeth of 25 mph winds with men on base, you don't deserve to win.

Do I have the right to boo? FUCKING A right, I do!! All you anal-retentive jackwads who got on MY shit for just telling it like it is, go fuck yourself with your momma's straightrazor. You have NO FUCKING RIGHT to tell me where to get off when you have no clue what makes a winning team. If your first baseball experience is the Mickey Morondini 1998 Wild Card team, how can you instruct me on Cubs 101 when I have sat and watched, year after year, the 1971 Cubs wear down in the heat, the 1977 Cubs fizzle away in a homer-happy orgy of lousy pitching and defense, the 1984 tragedy of stubbornness and entitlement?

For the first time in HISTORY, that means EVER, the management of this team stepped up and bought everything they could to make this work. They went out and got the top mid-season guy. They did everything they possibly could, and the manager sat there and let it all die on the vine.

BOOOOOOO!! God-Damned right, BOOOOOO!! Fuck you, Steroid Sammy! Up Yours, Cry-baby Alou! Quit sitting on your brain, Johnnie B. Dusty, and do something for once! You wouldn't know how to handle a bullpen if we gave you FIFTEEN pitching coaches, you tax-evading crook!! You'll NEVER win a World Series, because you are just TOO FUCKING STUPID!

And for the rest of you, let's face facts. Matt Clement is NEVER going to be a 20-game winner. Kyle Farnsworth is NEVER going to be a closer. Corey Patterson is NEVER going to be a cornerstone for a franchise.

And, most of all, and I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH...

...Sammy Sosa is NEVER EVER EVER EVER, in a MILLION YEARS, going to be a winner. Even when he eventually becomes a Yankee, in 2006, he'll put up monster stats...but somehow, he'll fuck THEM when it hurts the worst!

Good night.

And, most of all