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The Haphazard Flight of a Distant Ball

Spent a very enjoyable evening on Wednesday atthis, listening to the brilliant and hilarious First Draft Krewe alumMike D. talk shit about the Cubs and bemoan the unfairness of the Sun-Times splashing theslump-busting controversy all over its front page while ignoring the chance to talk about Cubs players cockfighting (who lets an opportunity to use “cock” in the paper get by them, honestly?) and making errors.

(Speaking of slump-busting, is it a sign of my jaded-ness when it comes to sports that my first reaction was relief that they didn’t use actual live girls? These are baseball players we’re talking about, Mickey Mantle and Ty Cobb would have brought in real people and then taken pictures of it. My second reaction was that Ozzie’s a fucking moron who should have been fired some miles back, but that won’t happen unless the losing gets so bad they can use it as a plausible excuse.)

FromMike’s piece:

I read once that Sox fans on average actually come from a higher rung on the socio-economic ladder than Cubs fans: think Naperville as instead of Schaumburg. We will forever be thought of as that guy with the mullet who ran onto the field to beat up a coach for the Kansas City Royals – unlike your fans who threatened to kill one of your own for allegedly costing the team a shot at the World Series a few falls ago.

And thanks to the team itself, we will always be associated with the never really cool sounds of Journey, while Metro is just down the block from Wrigley.

All of which has been a long way to explain to you Cubs fans why we Sox fans have chips on our shoulders at least as big as the chunks of concrete that have fallen from your so-called friendly confines.

A.

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