Thursday, August 21, 2008

If I May Be Serious For Just a Moment...

We like to have fun here at Bleed Grizzly Pink. And we should, because let's face it, it's almost always fun to ride the Big Pink Train all season long. And most GrizzBoosters are honest fans who just want to have a good time with their friends, family, and corporate sponsors. But there are a handful of green potato chips out there that are spoiling the whole bag for me.

Now, we as a fanbase have grown accustomed to winning. Ever since Lee Elia's fabled 1983 tirade convinced the Tribune Company to sell the hapless Cubs to Smilin' Sam Zeeck (the marketing genius who got rid of that hideous, disease-ridden ivy and silly nautical scoreboard1 at Old Weegham Park before it was gutted to add the retractable Dome and Skymall we all love today), the newly rechristened Grizzlies have never gone under .500 (heck, there are only 3 seasons that they dipped below .575). In fact, though some diehard fans of the "Kubbeez," as they were once nicknamed, threatened to boycott games at The Pad until the old blue uniforms were restored, the winning ways of 1984 soon made them "come around."

[As an aside, I'm barely old enough to remember a time when "Bleeding Kubbee Blue" wasn't Chicago slang for refusing to be happy unless everything was going your way. Apparently Mike Royko coined that delightful expression during the week-long citywide celebration of Grizzly Pride after the 1984 World Series - right after Houston Pink set fire to an effigy of Dave Kingman. Per a champagne-drenched Royko: "If all those idiots want to bleed Kubbee blue over the loss of Ding Dongs like this, let 'em move to Boise."]

Burn, baby. Burn.
Why would anyone want to go back to this?

So yes, we have a strong tradition of winning. But we have to remember that the baseball season is not a sprint, it's a marathon. A marathon with lead weights on your legs and wild dogs nipping at your heels.

Which leads me to last night. The first home loss of any season is tough, and it's made doubly tough by the fact that the Grizz were working on an overall 32-game winning streak, dating back to that tough loss the day before the All-Star break when the entire team accidently left a day early for Detroit, forcing the emergency call-up of the Iowa Grizzlies roster (who managed to take the Giants into the 14th inning before losing on a controversial strike call).2 It's okay to be upset by the fact that "Little Big Klusz" Mark Fontegna went hitless, ending his streak just three games shy of DiMaggio's record (the only major record in MLB not held by a Pink-Hatter, after "Slammin'" Sammy Soto retired with 1,567 home runs).3

However, it is not okay to accuse the Grizz of throwing the game. Even great teams get beaten. Sure it's suspicious that Derrick Li hit into his first double play in 2,553 at bats. Yes, it seems highly unlikely that Grizzly starter Lyle "Lily" Delano Roosevelt would fail to make his 5th consecutive no-hitter. And the hacking swings from Alonzo were a far cry from his usual disciplined plate demeanor. But these things happen, even to the very best of us. And Reds starter Balki Cornrowyo stunned us all by not pitching like the glorified mop-up man his career stats indicate.

Remember, all you DOOM-sayers who live and die by every loss, fearing that no team this good could lose unless it is deliberate: Chicago is a city that WILL NOT STAND for corruption. The last time a Chicago team was suborned by amoral, lawless gangsters (way back in 1919, mind you), we ran them out of town on a rail. And frankly, Boise can keep their "White Sox." Chicago is a one-team kind of town, anyway.

The Grizz lost. Just like they have on 5 previous occasions this season (leading sportswriters to joke that they're a "awful, awful road team"). And it's entirely possible that they may lose again before the season is over. But don't let your fully justified confidence and pride in this team lead you to believe the worst. This is easily the 3rd or 4th best Grizzly team of my lifetime, and I have faith that Grizz manager Jim Essian would never allow the Pad to soak up any of that kind of filth.

I'm glad I got that off my chest. Thank you for bearing with me on this post. Now that I've cleared the air, let's jump back onto the platform, let the conductor punch our ticket, and ride that Big Pink Train to VICTORY!


  1. I bet someone could make an hilarious photoshop with a Jolly Roger on top of that thing - but why would the Grizz have a pirate theme anyway? We're certainly not in Pittsburgh! ROFLMAOWTF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!ONE!!!!!!!!!!
  2. I, of course, do not consider that a home loss, as the game was relocated to Des Moines due to minor-league superstar left-fielder Jackson DuPage's fear of air travel.
  3. A moment made even more poignant by the fact that his retirement was due to the fact his PED-induced brain tumor was finally obscuring his vision so badly that during the retirement party, Sammy couldn't see well enough to symbolically smash the "Lucky Boombox" that Soto used to increase team unity through sing alongs (for those new to the Pink Party: every year, Soto would destroy the season's boom box, while laughing and saying "New Year, New Song, New Radio" in his never-perfect English). Woodrow Kerrigan finally had to borrow one of Soto's famed Cork Clobberer's to finish the job. The picture of Woodsy holding the splintered nubbin of the bat, with tear-stained eyes, is one of the most moving images in Grizztory.

6 comments:

Esther Blowing of Bangor ME said...

I want to go to second base with Little Klusz. He makes me all tingly in my lady parts.

RV said...

I agree wholeheartedly. Some of our fellow Grizz fans need a reality check. Even famed Chicago hoopster Miguel Jorgum wasn't perfect! Keep the faith, friends, we'll be sippin' on the grape-flavored Grizzurp Sizzurp of victory in no time!

Forklift said...

You can't win 'em all, unless you're that great 2004 team.

TDubbs said...

Want to know what really chaps my hind quarters? I'll tell you what really chaps my hind quarters. So I'm at the PAD last night, drinking my frozen strawberry marg with my best friend G-dude. Anywho, G-dude is eating some ranch flavored sunflower seeds, and spitting the shells into a cup. Well one of the shells accidently missed the rim of the cup, and cascaded to the floor. Well the usher comes over and deems us "inappropriate" and "lawless". I tell him, "The only lawless I stand for played Xena, and I don't see no warrior princesses around." I also gave him three snaps in a Z. Well, that shut him up pretty good. I got so frazzled, that I completely forgot about my marg and it melted and became watery. Usher in section 969, SCREW YOU JERK.

Felix Heredia said...

DOOOOOOOOM

Anonymous said...

Good golly, I'm so tired today. I could've swore (but I didn't) that I carried on a conversation with a big sheep for the better part of thirty minutes before I realized that I was asleep. Then I woke up to find my brother standing over me with his shirt untucked, sweaty, and talking about a victory before noon always makes his day bright. I must've slept on my head wrong at my insurance desk, too, because now I can't get my hair to lay down flat. I better get some caffeine in me or I'll likely fall asleep at my desk AGAIN.