Still Gotta Come Through Chicago

The Powers That Be

Happy Friday Chicago!

I hope you all had a wonderful fourth of July. That you enjoyed fireworks — from a distance. That you had cold drinks — in moderation. That you got into a fight with a family member — and reconciled. That you only got asked “have you seen that video where…” a few times.

I went into the weekend enthused, dying to bump into 50- to 60-year old men, knowing I had a joke in the holster for them.

You ready for it?

I was in Chicago this weekend watching cars race over 100 mph on the street. I wasn’t at Nascar … I was on the Dan Ryan Expressway!

I pictured cigar smoke in the air, my back being slapped, and their knees being slapped, too. Uproarious, uninterrupted laughter was on the other side of any encounter with an old timer, I just knew it, but I’m afraid I did not run into enough of them.

A man without a home for his joke is like a widow with no place for her love. So, instead, I gave myself the expressed written consent to get drunk, and then followed through while people threw Molotov cocktails at me for saying I don’t enjoy pools.

The pool community is stronger than I had expected, but I won’t be intimidated. I hear your counter arguments, and I will listen, but I will not be dissuaded from my cause.

As I read the biography of Martin Luther King Jr., I find myself really diving headfirst into two hobbies: non-violent resistance and asking people what they’re reading so they ask me what I’m reading.

If they don’t ask me what I’m reading, I just say that the book they’re reading (Self Love—Workbook For Women) reminds me of the book I’m reading (King: A Life).

When you’re balded and bearded, after all, life is constantly about making sure that people don’t think you’re bigoted.

Over 70 years after Rosa Parks wouldn’t give up her seat on the bus, I sit on the shuttle to work, waiting for someone to sit next to me. No one ever does.

The shuttle has two seats on each side of the aisle, and there’s always enough people that at least 90% of the riders will be seated next to someone else. No one ever takes a swipe at the seat next to me, however, even as I drag my thighs in as much as possible and clamp my backpack between my knees.

Do I want someone to sit next to me on the bus? Of course not. But one data point has turned into another, and another, and now it’s a trend I can’t ignore. I’m not going to half-smile and head nod my way out of this one.

Plus, the trend has surfaced on the heels of a friend telling me that I “look like the guy on the news who is angry that a muslim moved into his town.”

It’s enough already to be a survivor of early onset male-pattern baldness. Now, I’m unfairly judged for the way that I look.

I’m a pariah, an untouchable. The little kids ask me if they can rub my head because no one is born to discriminate. But the adults, they look at me with hatred in their heart, assuming I have hatred in mine.

As I walk away from work, I drag my sweatshirt behind me like a solo child on the way home from school, knowing that what waits on the other end of his walk is a broken home. I, instead, know that a shuttle waits for me. Inside it? A broken world.

And here comes a young woman, could she be the one to break the trend? No, of course not. She turns to me, practically spins on her back foot like Michael Jackson, and takes the seat across the aisle.

There I am, left to look out the window, with the oil that’s accumulated on my hairless head making a mark on the plexiglass.

“Disgusting,” I hear from behind me.

I gather up the courage. “You know that’s actually healthy,” I say.

“Please don’t hurt us,” they reply.

So instead, my head and my quill turn back toward the world of sports. As I think of the plight that I have to undertake against the powers that be — the Reinsdorfs, the Ricketts, and the McCaskeys — I think of someone else.

I think of Martin Luther King Jr. Did I tell you I’m reading his biography?

Let’s get into it.

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In Memoriam, and Around Chicago

Chicago has lost a few legends in July.

The first was Bobby Jenks, the White Sox closer on their 2005 World Series run. Jenks died last week of stomach cancer.

Jenks was one of the most exciting parts of those playoffs. Though he wasn’t, he felt like Chicago’s own version of Mariano Rivera that year. There was pomp and circumstance surrounding his entrances, and the game felt like it was over. You were as excited to watch Jenks close it out as you were to see the White Sox bat in the other half of the inning.

In retrospect, it’s hard to fathom that was Jenks’ first year in the league, that he only lasted seven years, and that he finished his career with just OK numbers.

Because in 2005, he was that guy. Like the 2005 White Sox, he was special — magical even — but he was fleeting.

His early, sad death reminds me of how fun it was to be a kid watching that White Sox team, no matter which side of town you rooted for. It also reminds me that I was cheering for the Sox during that series, at the direction of my father, who is a “it’s good for the city” guy.

Between Jenks and Johnathan Papelbon, I was convinced for a portion of my life that you needed a white guy who looked like he could be nicknamed Big Country to close out games for you.

Rest in Peace, Bobby.

The former Cubs manager Lee Elia also passed away this week. He is best remembered for his recorded rant on the bleacher bums at Wrigley Field in the ‘80s.

F*ck those f*ckin' fans who come out here and say they're Cub fans that are supposed to be behind you, rippin' every f*ckin' thing you do. I'll tell you one f*ckin' thing, I hope we get f*ckin' hotter than sh*t, just to stuff it up them 3,000 f*ckin' people that show up every f*ckin' day, because if they're the real Chicago f*ckin' fans, they can kiss my f*ckin' ass right downtown and PRINT IT.

They're really, really behind you around here...my f*ckin' ass. What the f*ck am I supposed to do, go out there and let my f*ckin' players get destroyed every day and be quiet about it? For the f*ckin' nickel-dime people who turn up? The motherf*ckers don't even work. That's why they're out at the f*ckin' game. They oughta go out and get a f*ckin' job and find out what it's like to go out and earn a f*ckin' living. Eighty-five percent of the f*ckin' world is working. The other fifteen percent come out here. A f*ckin' playground for the cocks*ckers.

In addition to the hilarity, we can file this one under “well, is he wrong?” It evokes Bo Pelini’s rant about “ungrateful” Nebraska football fans, for me — also in “well, is he wrong?”

Elia had a great career in baseball, but the media types who tell you this week to not let his rant define him — they miss the point. Sure, it’s not all he did. But the rant is a part of baseball history, for better or worse, and it’s also not a stain on his legacy. Not even Cubs fans were upset by it.

The last note from this section is more lighthearted, and that’s Michael Jordan’s Highland Park mansion being listed on Airbnb.

I cannot wait for 26-year-old out-of-towners to put down a $25,000 deposit for it.

Only for one of them to be drinking straight from a bottle of vodka on the basketball court on the first night to say “did we really drop 30 Gs to stay at a house Michael Jordan lived in 30 years ago? … “That’s 45 minutes outside of the city?”

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The Cubs lead in the NL Central has dwindled to just two games with one series left to play prior to the All-Star break.

It’s an unfortunate but expected turn to the season. I didn’t expect the Cubs to hold a 5+-game lead in the division throughout the year, and the Brewers are red-hot and fresh off a sweep of the Dodgers.

As the season has taken a subtle turn for the worse over the last month, and as the break and the trade deadline near, it’s worth taking stock of who’s not to blame for any shortcomings this Cubs team has.

That’s Jed Hoyer.

The Ricketts are handwringing over a potential lockout in the near future, and they’re handcuffing Hoyer. The Cubs have a lighter payroll than they did last year, one that’s not even in the top-10 in baseball.

It’s true that the Ricketts have taken their foot off the pedal since the Cubs won a World Series, which they swore would not happen. I’m grateful for the ownership change that brought the Ricketts in, and of course the World Series. It’s also their prerogative if they don’t want to spend big, but I could do without the year-end letters from Tom Ricketts telling the fans that what’s up is down.

If the Cubs want to make money hand over fist, with packed ballparks, $14 beers, and their own TV network that is still somewhat inaccessible outside of a stream, that’s okay. I’d just appreciate if they were transparent about it, and I’d especially appreciate if fans stopped conflating Hoyer and the Ricketts.

Theo Epstein forever will be ingrained in Chicago sports lore, and all of us Cubs fans will be forever indebted to him for what he did here.

It’s also true that he was afforded privileges — because of the Cubs situation at the time and because of his reputation — that Hoyer has not been afforded.

Let’s call a spade a spade. Epstein handed over the keys to Hoyer in a time period where the Cubs were in complete turmoil.

They were uncompetitive. They had a lot of money on the books. They had a handful of franchise-altering decisions to make over players that Cubs fans loved dearly. They had one of the most depleted farm systems in all of baseball.

Fast forward to this year, and the Cubs are one of the best teams in the National League — again, with the 12th highest payroll in baseball.

Let’s take a look at some of the Cubs’ largest contributors by WAR, and how they arrived here.

Pete Crow-Armstrong, who is an All-Star starter and well on his way to being a superstar, was traded for half a year of Javier Baez. Baez was just a couple years removed from a second place finish in the MVP race. PCA now has accumulated more WAR this year — 5.0 — than Baez has accumulated since the start of the 2022 season.

Kyle Tucker is also an All-Star starter. We can have qualms about the trade that got him here, but the downsides of that trade are all Ricketts-related. The fact that the Cubs even had a Cam Smith to trade for Tucker is a testament to Hoyer. The fact that they had to give up so much for one year of one star is a reflection of the maneuvers Hoyer has been forced to make behind his back, with those handcuffs on.

And even with Smith’s impressive rookie year in Houston thus far, the deal has worked out very well for the Cubs. Tucker has been as advertised, and he has altered the chemistry of the entire lineup.

One of the hottest hitters in all of baseball is Michael Busch, who is hitting 70% above league average. He was won over by more prospects that Hoyer had accumulated, and creatively brought in via trade while considered somewhat of a castoff in Los Angeles.

Prior to that trade, Busch had just 27 major league games under his belt — and a .167 average to show for.

Then there’s Seiya Suzuki, who Hoyer convinced to sign in Chicago, and who now boasts some of the best power numbers in the MLB. Halfway into the season, he has 25 home runs and 77 RBIs. His deal is worth $85 million over five years, a bargain and a half for his production.

Hoyer of course also successfully pitched Shota Imanaga on Chicago, and he has turned into a near-ace on a 4-year, $53 million contract. Behind him is Mathew Boyd, also an All-Star, who is having the best year of his career — by far — at age 34.

On most days, those two are pitching to Carson Kelly, a no-name catcher turned catalyst for the Cubs catcher position from the batter’s box.

Remember the shortstop free agent class of 2023? Hoyer landed Dansby Swanson in those sweepstakes with the fourth largest contract out of the bunch based on annual average, and also the second-shortest deal. Swanson, much maligned, has a better body of work than Carlos Correa, Trea Turner, and Xander Bogaerts over the past three years.

Ian Happ is Ian Happ. He’s not more than Ian Happ, and he’s not less than Ian Happ. That only makes sense to Cubs fans. Sometimes Happ is the subject of criticism because at some point, people thought he may be a star. He’s not. He’s a good fielder and a good hitter. He’s not great, and of course he’s prone to mistakes. But his production and his number (about $20 million per year) are in alignment.

The Cubs are on the brink of an important trade deadline. They’ll need to Hoyer to reach into his bag of tricks once again to rightsize a starting rotation that has been dragged down by injuries.

But you may have noticed we don’t hear much about the bullpen anymore.

Two years in a row, Hoyer has turned the worst bullpen in baseball into one of the best. He’s done so through savvy signings — of Chris Flexen, of Caleb Thielbar, of Drew Pomeranz (who has a 0.73 ERA after not pitching in the big leagues in four years).

Of Daniel Palencia.

Palencia, mind you, was an A-ball pitcher with a 6.91 ERA when the Cubs grabbed him at the 2021 trade deadline in a deal for the reliever Andrew Chafin. Now, he’s been closing ball games for the Cubs with relative ease.

The 2021 trade deadline was Hoyer’s first big proverbial at-bat. He knocked it out of the park. Fans, including me, were dismayed by the complete fire sale. Immediately, all the players shipped out — some of which were commanding $200 million deals — fell apart. A couple became, without exaggeration, some of the worst players in baseball.

Oh, and Hoyer also grabbed a top manager in baseball from his own division and brought him to the North Side. Thank you to the Ricketts for the flexibility there.

The Cubs are going to attempt to become a legitimate World Series contender at this year’s deadline. The fact that they are even a move or two away is credit to Jed Hoyer, the players he has acquired, and no one else.

That, before we move into the All-Star break, needed to be said.

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