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No, You Act Like You’ve Been There Before. I’m Gonna Be Over Here With My Pants On My Head

by on October 14, 2015

As the hangover tries to clear a bit this morning (and taking its damn sweet time to do so), I have this urge to try and make sense of what went on yesterday evening. But maybe that’s pointless. It doesn’t have to make sense. Because in the context of our baseball lives, it doesn’t make any sense.

Some people I saw, and to be fair they were not anything close to the majority, were admonishing Cubs fans to act “like you’ve been there before.” If there’s one lesson we’ve learned from this Cubs team and this Cubs season, it’s to respond to that with the following:


These Cubs have never shied from celebrating the moment, even if it’s just for a few minutes after a win in July. Squeeze every last ounce out of enjoyment you can. Realize how much fun it is to be you. That’s clearly been their mantra, and I don’t see why it shouldn’t be ours as fans.

But it’s oh so much more than that.


I just wrote that sentence. It’s absolutely true. It’s not a fever dream.

For our entire baseball fan lives, we have been shit on by the illiterate, sweating goobers from down I-55. We’ve watched baseball media fawn over their organization and fandom as if they were some exhibit in the Louvre instead of a collection of whatever you could wring out of a beer-stained t-shirt (and shitty beer at that) and saltines (which they call artisan bread). It only feels like recently the rest of baseball has caught on to what we as Cubs fans have known our entire lives. Every facet of the St. Louis Cardinals is an obnoxious, humble-bragging, festering boil on society.

And that wouldn’t matter if we hadn’t been getting piped on the field by them for so long. Every season we have been treated to losses where something goes horribly wrong in the worst way possible, and told by the other side, “That’s how it is between these teams.” Even when the Cubs were good sporadically, we were basically patted on the heads by them, told how adorable it was, and then watch it all fall apart followed quickly by the Cards winning the whole thing with an 83-win and 85-win teams, as if it just wasn’t that hard (which makes their fans’ complaining about the playoff system today groin-grabbingly funny).

But finally, yesterday evening, we were Lucy and they were Charlie Brown. We pulled the football away at the last moment. First it was watching them implode in Game 2, as the Cubs had done an innumerable about of times in whichever incarnation of InBev Park it was. And then it was a complete dismissal of “The Cardinal Way.” They have provided themselves on how much they appreciate the “nuances” of the game that no one gets because they’re just that smart. Watch broadcaster lose their mud over an ovation for a fucking sacrifice bunt.

The Cubs walked in the past two games and cut a loud fart on that and then laughed all the way to a series win. This was Al Czervik walking into the club dinner and tossing $100s everywhere to make for a real party. This was standing on the table and playing air guitar to Battery in a formal restaurant. The Cubs basically became the Doof Warrior the past two games, being as loud as possible, hitting it as far as possible, and then shooting out some damn flames because nuance has no place here. The Cubs beat you over the damn head, and you can take your appreciation for moving a runner over and shove it up your toasted ravioli crusted ass. And I’m sure the taste is about the same either way.

I’m even glad they have injuries and excuses, all the better to soak in their whining.

Oh Yadi didn’t play! Because a 82 +wRC hitter was certainly going to save the day! I guess he must be some leader because John Lackey is too fucking stupid to realize he doesn’t have to throw what the catcher calls, when he isn’t frying up a squirrel he caught in his yard and snorting cheese whiz.

But Holliday was hurt? Really? When isn’t he?

No Carlos Martinez! You mean that one the Cubs put 10 hits on in five innings in September?

Finally the Cubs got to profit off of another manager grinding his pitchers into dust, as Kevin Seigrist was out there basically with a silly string can. Or blowing up his entire structure in the pen so he could keep bringing in Adam Wainwright, I guess to show how much the organization appreciates a good injury rehab. Jorge Soler’s homer off him nearly ripped a hole in time.

Maybe one day we’ll be as reviled as those clad in red. But I’m fairly certain we would own our own obnoxiousness and revel in it. We wouldn’t wonder why everyone doesn’t love us like they do. We would feed on the distaste. Because this is how the Cubs do it now. Brashly, loudly, joyously, and if you’re annoyed by the party, we’re only going to turn the music up more.

Soak in it.

From → Musings

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