I don’t bleed for anyteam, but I do admit to a little bruising on occasion. I like sports as much asthe next guy and while I appreciate Wisconsin’s sports offerings and am pleasedwhen they do well, I’m primarily an observer, and certainly not a band-wagonjumper. If the Packers are doing well, that’s great, I’ll enjoy the ride. Ifthe Badgers are stinking up the joint, I don’t take it home with me.
There are exceptions tothis philosophy. As part of the de-facto fan base, I was embarrassed by theentire charade which took place at Miller Park this week. I’m glad the parksold out and the team generated excitement, however I can’t help but feel I wascheated on more than a husband in a country-western song. Broken promisesfestered in our hearts and busted bottles were nauseatingly shattered on MillerPark Way by shit-faced Cubs fans. (Not kidding about the bottles, brokenpromises is a subjective matter.)
The way the Brewersperformed against the Cubs was infuriating. This was the type of series thatexposed pretenders, a role the Brewers will learn to know and embrace.Dominated by the Cubs pitching staff who seemed to be throwing aspirin forthree days, the Brewers couldn’t produce a clutch hit; batters missed pitchesin the strike zone and chased offerings in another zip code. It’s not importantto pick out any single defensive liability, (Rickie Weeks,) as the team itselfwasn’t up to the challenge. Like Steve Bartman in the Cubs melt-down a fewyears ago, it wasn’t about one person causing the dam to break, it was a groupeffort. The media created a monster out of a molehill describing this match upas an early look at the playoff race. There was no way it could live up to thehype, the expectations. The series was reminiscent of a young man’s firstsexual experience; Dreams of domination, euphoria, sitting atop a division onlyto find yourself wishing you’d gotten your pants off more quickly.
The Cubs forced theBrewers to eat more collective fecal matter than a pack of wild dogs on thetundra. They looked intimidated, like deer frozen in headlights on I-94. Thesame deer later strapped to the grill of a runaway Semi-trailer on its way toWrigley Field.
You can say ‘there’s alot more baseball to play,’ until you’re blue in the face, but people knowbetter. This morbid series was indicative of how this cipher of aseason is going to play out, Cubs in first,the Brewers in the distance, ultimately bottom-feeders of the division. If thisseries was a prize-fight, it would have been stopped in the first round, at thevery least a TKO after the third loss. Fielder swung out of his shoes on everypitch, not that there’s any new information there. Someone should tell Princethat folks on a vegetarian diet tend to crave sweets. Lately Fielder looks likea poster-child for Twinkies. Weeks, with his god-awful bat wagging before apitch, couldn’t hit the proverbial side of the barn. Weeks made base runningmistakes, errors, washed colors with whites, fed a baby chili. The novicesecond baseman would do well to learn how to make contact as a leadoff hitter,take an occasional pitch for a walk, get on base, take one for the team ratherthan try to loft one into the seats.
Hee-Haw cast member CoryHart hasn’t delivered in the clutch since Jimmy Buffett had hair.Ryan Braun put so much energy into his HomeRun Derby, he left the best part of his game in a New York hotel room. WhenMike Cameron came to the plate, he looked befuddled by the most routine fastball.The Brewers were battered,embarrassed, stymied. A crate of Viagra wouldn’t have improved the team’schances of displaying any wood at the plate. Even Cubs fans, some of the mostinsanely rabid and downright caustic creatures on earth, grew weary of pilingon. The fans appeared to show pity for the hapless team they viewed as worthyadversaries only a few days before. After all, it would have been like kickinga five year old after he fell off his bike. As Dragline pummeled the titlecharacter in Cool Hand Luke, the fanswitnessed something so brutal and primevil, they could only turn away indisgust. Applauding after the last three blow-outs would have been akin tocongratulating a leper after his thigh fell off.
A couple of months backI freely admit I was one of those calling for Ned Yost’s head on a platterquicker than you could say John the Baptist. The team did turn around and wenton a mad winning streak. At the time, I was wrong, I ate crow. Now I’m not sosure. After being swept by the Cubs in a stretch of games which the Brewers hadto at least hang in there and show some mettle, I once again think Yost shouldbe shown the door. The owners have shown commitment in signing CC Sabathia andRay Durham, proving to their fan-base they are trying. Helen Keller couldcommunicate better with this roster than Yost. The clubhouse, dugout,expressions on the players faces is pained. Handing this emotional vampire hispink slip might just free the players from these invisible chains. A clean setof linen always makes you sleep better. The players would be called upon for agut-check. Brewers management has been very loyal to Yost, as loyal as Yost hasbeen to Weeks and Jeff Suppan, who left his pitching arm in the locker roombefore his last few outings. Sabathia proved he is mortal after Yost pushed thisguy to three complete games, Sabathia’s arm hanging by dental floss. To hisdefense, Yost was probably thrilled he didn’t have to call Castro in thebullpen before the fifth inning.
Yost will defend thisteam to the end, regardless of how impotent, or guilty they are of baseballmalfeasance. And don’t you dare ask him any serious questions about his team’sineffectiveness, or he’ll rip you a new one. Yost left Jeff Suppan on the moundrecently for what seemed like a month, the pitcher suffering a MLB crucifixion.It seemed like Yost had a personal vendetta against Suppan, who hasn’t workedhis way out of a jam since Tiger Woods was pissing his diapers.
Apropos of nothing atall, Cub’s manager Lou Pinella makes me look like I’m in shape. The Cub’s manager has more going on below the beltthan Oprah Winfrey. If Sweet Lou ever fell into shark infested waters, it’d belike an Old Country Buffet for a slew of Great Whites. A charmer from thestands at Miller Park exclaimed, “Nice Wisconsin tumor, Lou.”Unfortunately, that snide comment was one ofthe few highlights during the series between the Cubs and Brewers.
