Goatriders of the Apocalypse

And the Gods of Professionalism Smiled Upon the Cubs

The morons were out in force last night, for the Dustbag's 'grand, triumphant' 2009 return to Wrigley. Somebody loosed a cat onto the field. Somebody else reached into the field of play (along the left field line!) and snagged a foul ball. And, then, the opponent got a clutch hit that drove in a run! Curses?

Besides the simple fact that, after Game 6, 2003, no Cubs fan should ever, ever, EVER reach into the field of play ever again to snag a foul ball…there WERE Curses in play last night. Thing is, though, it was a curse against the Reds that worked in our favor. Simply put, the Gods of Professionalism took a look at the Dustbag's RIDICULOUS parka, and decided that no team whose manager dresses for an Antarctic expedition deserves to win a ballgame. It wasn't even a Certified MLB Reds parka, I do not believe. It was just some standard, run of the mill puffed out urban sleeping bag with arms, like all the rappers used to wear in their insipid videos. Like Tupac, without the booty gurlz and the 8 bullet holes. Hey, Dusty? 2002 called…they want their Triple Fat Goose back!!

I have always believed that teams look to their head coach or manager for guidance and leadership, and what kind of message are you sending to your guys when you show up bundled up like a gatdamn snuffleluffagus and you send them up to hit against shirt-sleeved Canucklehead Rich Harden? "Uh, you troops head on out in the cold….I'll just wrap up in a shawl and get cozy up in here." Johnnie Baker didn't want to be there last night, so why should his guys feel any different? The Reds have some good young talent in their lineup, but last night, at least, there wasn't much fight in them. For gosh sakes, the withered corpse of Luis Vizcaino mowed them down in the ninth. If that ain't the proof that them boys just wanted to get back to the Westin and laze around in their soaking tubs, then there ain't no proof in anything!

Really, Dusty looked like the black Michelin Man, and this isn't so much the color of his skin, but the color of his Triple Fat Goose parka. Perhaps if he was able to find a nice Red parka…I mean, my wife noticed that the Cubs bullpen coach had on a parka, but I pointed out that a) he has to spend the whole game outside, not in a dugout with the heater, b) his parka was at least MLB Cub Blue, and c) it wasn't all puffy like it was rated to 40 below zero. (I used 40 below because -40 Celsius = -40 Fahrenheit, and I also used 40 below because that's what it looked like Dusty was dressed for). Gregg Easterbrook, the guy that does the Tuesday Morning Quarterback column on Tuesday mornings, yep, he has the "Cheerleader Professionalism" theory, which basically states that the cheerleaders who wear less during the course of a game usually end up rooting for the winning side, because the Gods of Professionalism smile upon those teams who dress appropriately. And according to Easterbrook, who despite his fancy schmancy education is pretty much a perv like me, less clothes on cheerbabes = professionalism = wins.

And no, I don't wanna know if the Dustbag has his navel pierced, and I don't ever wanna see it. But in the war of Right vs. Wrong Tuesday night in Wrigley, Baker was wrong, like he usually is, and the man who authored the "black guys play better in the sun" postulate looked like a doofus and watched his team lose. It's not going to be much warmer tonight, and Ted Lilly nearly threw a no-no last Monday, when it was even colder. If Baker brings the Southpole with him again tonight, he deserves to lose again.

My friend's dad caught that

My friend's dad caught that ball.


I believe he should not have stuck his arm or glove out into the field of play. It was a nice catch, but if I were standing there, I still would have asked if he'd learned anything from 2003.

TMQ is the balls

and he's almost always right...especially when it comes to cheerbabe uniforms and the immutable laws of the punt.

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