Sim Dodgers 1, Sim Cubs 1

Being the obsessive, neurotic Cubs fan that I am (is there any other kind?), I decided to do an R.B.I. Baseball simulation of the Cubs and Dodgers to find out who would win Game 1 yesterday. I let the computer play a full game, and the outcome was Cubs 12, Dodgers 8. Well, as you can clearly gather, my simulation meant nothing, as the Cubs belly-flopped, losing 7-2. That is unless you hear the part of the story I’m leaving out… the gruesome part… the scary part… the almost unbearable to hear part… and if it weren’t for the results of the Game 2 simulation I just ran, I probably wouldn’t tell you. It would just be too much.

The truth is that I played two games of R.B.I. Baseball yesterday between the Cubs and Dodgers with ME controlling the Cubs before I got around to letting the computer play itself. Why? We’ll get to that.

I originally believed the Cubs would have a better chance of coming out on top if I played myself, and since this was just a silly, superstitious tempting of fate, I figured it was better that they won than it was that I be fair— as if there are any rules governing R.B.I. Baseball simulations anyway, right? I thought a Cubs sim-win might leave me with a better feeling about the upcoming game, and perhaps relieve some of the butterflies in my stomach. Well, it turns out there was nothing silly about my simulations. Why? Because I lost. Twice.

That isn’t even the scary part, though. The scary part is that the first time I played, the Dodgers hit a grand slam, and both times I played they ended up winning with a total of 7 runs. If it weren’t for the Cubs’ century-long drought, the Billy Goat curse, Ruth calling his shot, and all the other eerie and seemingly supernatural “things” surrounding this team, I wouldn’t even give it a second thought. But COME ON. Isn’t that just a little too weird?!

So, if you believe in R.B.I. Baseball simulations the way I do, and you’re a Cubs fan, have no fear. I simulated Game 2 today, and the Cubs came out on top, 5-0.

Jim Edmonds— formerly a Cardinal, currently unemployable (unless you’re Jim Hendry)

I have nothing against Jim Edmonds, other than the fact that he used to be a Cardinal, which has no tangible relevance whatsoever. He used to be a great player. He used to tear it up against the Cubs in Wrigley Field. He used to track down every ball that came within a block of center field. Now, he’s a has-been. In fact, he’s the very definition of a has-been. The Cubs shouldn’t waste the money or the effort.

Cubs GM, Jim Hendry, does make a good point— with the Padres paying most of Edmonds’ 2008 salary, signing him doesn’t really put a dent in the Cubs payroll, meaning they can still go out and acquire that starting pitcher they so desperately need if they expect to make a serious World Series run. But it does force Piniella to send a player back to the minors. Again, Felix Pie is the odd man out. (Side note: I have a problem with Lou’s decision to keep 13 pitchers on the roster and only 4 outfielders. How many times have we seen Zambrano or Marquis come in as pinch hitters late in a close ball game?)

This year, anything less would be a disappointment to Cubs fans. This is the best team Chicago has fielded in a long time— better than the ‘03 team, better than the ‘89 team, and maybe even better than the ‘84 team. It is for this reason that I can stomach seeing one of our young prospects sent back to the minors to make room for an established veteran. After last year’s disappointing early exit, there’s an air of “now or never” hovering over Wrigley Field, especially when one considers that the team that many predicted to represent the National League in the Series last year is even better this year. Our stars— Derrek Lee, Aramis Ramirez, Kosuke Fukudome— are all in their prime. Every hitter on the team is showing remarkable patience at the plate. Our defense (for a change) is solid. Mark DeRosa has found a comfortable home in Chicago, putting up better numbers here than in any pre-Cubs year. Ryan Theriot has proven that his strong showing in his brief ‘06 Major League stint wasn’t just a fluke (currently, and quietly, batting .336). Geovany Soto is having an All-Star-worthy season. And Carlos Zambrano finally looks to be on his way to a possible Cy Young we’ve all been expecting. Yes, the pieces are all coming together— so sending Felix Pie back to the minors to bring in veteran leadership seems like the natural move. The problem is that Edmonds isn’t exactly a leader anymore.
In 2004, Edmonds hit .301, smacked 42 homers and drove in 111 runs— his most productive season ever. The following year he hit .263 with 29 homers and 89 batted in. In ‘06, .257/19/70. In ‘07, .252/12/53. So far this year, he’s hitting .178 with 1 homer and 6 RBI. He has also struck out 24 times in 90 at-bats (26%). Now, I’ll concede the fact that Edmonds has been injured and limited to 110 and 117 games in ‘06 and ‘07, respectively. That doesn’t change the fact, though, that he hasn’t produced when healthy. Regardless of excuses, the bat that was once feared is no longer a threat.

Edmonds has also lost a step or two in the field. He may not be a defensive liability, but he certainly isn’t the valuable gold-glover he used to be. His lack of speed on the base paths could also become a factor

If the Cubs were to bring true veteran leadership to Chicago, I wouldn’t be opposed to sending Felix back to Iowa. But I just don’t feel like this move is justifiable, considering Felix has been hitting the ball much better lately, on top of playing a consistently stellar center field and posing a constant threat on the bases. Plus, sending him back to the minors now would be a huge blow to his confidence.

Jim Hendry needs to realize that the one piece missing from the Cubs’ puzzle this year is a solid #2 starter. Ted Lilly has shown positive signs lately, but after his giant stumble in game 2 of last year’s NLDS, fans have little confidence that he’ll be the one to step up and fulfill the other half of the necessary one-two punch that every real contender possesses. Ryan Dempster has been a very pleasant surprise in the rotation, but he hasn’t thrown more than 92 innings in a season since 2003. He may wear out down the stretch. Marquis has also been inconsistent, and Hill couldn’t throw consecutive strikes to save his life before being sent back to Iowa.

While it doesn’t cost us any money to acquire Edmonds, it does cost us the chance to develop a still-green Felix Pie, who could prove to be a valuable asset in the future. Since the Corey Patterson debacle, the Cubs have shown little patience with young prospects. I fear Pie may slip through the cracks and end up terrorizing the Cubs in another team’s uniform. We’ve all seen it before.

Garden of dirt

Ashley and I decided to plant a garden this year. When we moved into our house, we noticed a space on one side where the soil was really dark and soft; it looked like someone had planted something there before. We decided that would make a great place for our new garden. We didn’t get around to it last spring, but this year we were determined.

So we used the landscaping bricks that Ash’s mom had leftover after making her garden to frame ours. We used the handy “Garden Claw” to till the soil, painstakingly yanked out all the weeds (and about a billion onions… whoever lived there before us must have LOVED onions), and started planting all sorts of seeds that would eventually turn into big, beautiful flowers. We even dug out the area underneath our dining room window and planted three types of sunflowers and two types of pumpkins. We were standing back, admiring our work, when Ashley asked if it was time to spread the weed preventer. I said, “Sure.”

I was cleaning up our mess and gathering our tools, and when I glanced over at the garden again I noticed that she was putting down kind of a heavy coat of the weed killer. I said I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to put that much on, so we decided to read the directions. As we were looking through the 39-page, fold-out booklet that detaches from the back of the canister, I noticed something in big, bold letters: DO NOT USE PREEN ON FLOWER SEEDS. Son of a— what? Why not? It’s weed preventer. Don’t people use this in their gardens? Yes… yes they do. But not until the plants are at least a few inches tall. After doing a little research online, I discovered that Preen kills ALL seeds— even flower seeds. Apparently it knows the difference between plants and seeds, but does not distinguish between weed seeds and other types of seeds.

Luckily, we didn’t water it into the soil, or rake the soil after applying it. These are, according to the instructions, essential to the process of killing every single freakin’ seed in your garden. Also, if it is left on the surface, it will photodegrade, making it far less potent. The day after applying it, we decided it would be a good idea to sweep as much as possible off the surface of the now-dry soil— so we did. We agreed that if any of our neighbors saw us doing this, they would probably think we were insane. But after all that work, we had to do whatever we could think of to save our garden.

The worst part is we’ll have to wait weeks to find out if we killed it all.

Stupid Preen.

Andrew Bird & The Mysterious Twists and Turns of Life

It’s funny how this happens.

When I went for my first interview at Great Big Pictures in Madison, WI a few years ago, Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was playing in the prepress room. I knew right away that I was right where I belonged.

I was told on my first day that everyone in the office takes turns making music picks, all day long. There were only a few rules: 1) DJ (my boss) owned the rights to the volume (and he used this right quite often) 2) the record couldn’t be longer than one hour (though this one was often fudged if no one objected to what was on, or if everyone just lost track— we did actually work, too), 3) it couldn’t contain any offensive language (also often fudged, as long as no clients were walking through), and 4) if someone absolutely couldn’t stand your taste in music, they had the right to skip your pick (this only happened once or twice in the two years I was there). It was a marvelous thing, listening to music at work all day. Not only did it help pass the time and break up the inevitable monotony associated with prepress work, but it exposed everyone in the office to a variety of music— some good, some bad.

One of the artists I was introduced to while at GBP was Andrew Bird. I remember liking some of it, but I was never impressed enough to choose to listen to it (though I did ask my manager, Luke, for copies of Oh! The Grandeur and The Mysterious Production of Eggs… you know, just for the collection). I don’t think I listened to them all the way through once.

If you haven’t listened to Andrew Bird, there’s really no way I could sum up his sound without making this post way longer than you care to stick around for. Just know that he’s good— really good. The point of this post is this: about six months ago, my good friend, Brent, asked me if I had heard of Andrew Bird, and told me that I needed to get his new record, Armchair Apocryhpa. I thought it was funny that Brent had heard of Andrew Bird (then I remembered it was Brent— the guy is basically a music encyclopedia). I picked up the record, and it quickly made its way into my weekly rotation in the car. I even went back and listened to The Mysterious Production of Eggs again, and truly appreciated it this time. Sometimes a record doesn’t make sense until you first hear another one by the same artist that does make sense.

It just goes to show that you never know how things will turn out. And it reminds me of Ashley. I spent four years in the same building with her, 180 days a year, in high school… even talked to her several times, coached her on the Powder Puff team, hung out in the same group a few times… and I had no idea that one day, several years later, she’d be walking down the aisle towards me in a gorgeous gown, ready to become my wife.

I think that’s what’s fun about life, and what makes it so worth living. Life really is like a box of chocolates (without that chart on the back that tells you exactly what’s inside each piece… though sometimes I do mix up the shapes and end up with some nasty fruit creme in my mouth when I was expecting caramel).

I guess that makes me Forrest Gump.

And Ashley is my Jenny

Just thought of a third thing…

When a person uses the pronoun “myself” to refer to him/herself.

Example: I got an email from my supervisor today that said, “If you have any questions please see Rob or myself.”

I have to admit, I don’t know when it is appropriate to use “myself” instead of “me.” All I know is that it sounds stupid, and I hate it. She wouldn’t have said, “If you have any questions, please see myself.” … right? So how come when another person is included in the sentence, “me” becomes “myself?” I don’t get it.

This probably wouldn’t annoy me as much if I didn’t hate my job like cats hate baths.

Those little things that annoy us on a daily basis

Here are two of mine, both of which came to mind this morning on my way to work.

1. When someone says “I could care less.” If only people would think when they speak. To say that you could care less does not communicate a complete lack of caring, which is clearly what you’re attempting to do. In fact, what you’re saying is that you do care… at least somewhat… since it’s possible that you could care less. What you mean to say is that you couldn’t care less; in other words, you care as little as humanly possible. Until you learn how to use the phrase properly, try replacing it with “I don’t give a fuck.”

2. When someone says “… which begs the question…” I don’t know who first picked this up and started using it incorrectly, but it needs to stop. Journalists use it all the time: “You said yesterday that you had no knowledge of your teammates using steroids, which begs the question, how could you have been around them every day and not have known?” “Begs the question” does not mean that something someone says clearly invites another question. It is the name of a logical fallacy in which the proposition to be proved is assumed in one of the premises. In other words, it’s a circular argument. Little kids do this all the time. You might hear one say, “You’re a doo-doo head,” to which you reply, “Why?” And the kid comes back with, “Because you’re a doo-doo head.” While this is a very rudimentary example, it illustrates the fallacy. Logically, you cannot use your conclusion to prove your conclusion— like if President Bush were to say, “We need to go to war, because war is the only answer.” He is rephrasing the conclusion and using it as an argument for his conclusion. He does this all the time, because he’s an idiot. He’s probably one of the people who uses the phrase “…which begs the question…” and thinks he sounds really intelligent.

People will argue with me by saying that people have been using it like this for a long time now, and it’s widely accepted as a part of the English language… to which I will reply, “People have been stupid for a long time now, and stupidity is widely accepted as a part of life… but that doesn’t mean they aren’t stupid.”

A haiku to make light of a sad day

Didn’t get the job

Stuck with dumb-ass boss for now

But I still have hope

3:10 to Yuma— can someone help me believe this movie was as good as I wanted it to be?

I was really, really looking forward to seeing this movie. Ash and I rented it through Justin’s Netflix account (we’re keeping it safe for him while he’s away) and finally got around to watching it Saturday night. I have to say, I was disappointed.

First of all, let me give you my context: Christian Bale is one of my favorite actors, if not my favorite actor. If I could be anyone else, it would probably be Christian Bale (or the version of Batman he portrayed in Batman Begins). I also like Russell Crowe a lot. I think he’s a great actor. Thirdly, I love Westerns. I’m not so much a John Wayne fan, but more of a Clint Eastwood fan (used to watch him with my dad a lot as a kid). I love everything about the Old West— it almost doesn’t seem like it was real, and I always have to remind myself that it was. There’s so much good vs. evil drama, bad-assery, brutality, men drinking whiskey like it’s apple juice, card-playing, gun-fighting, cool horses, etc., etc… Maybe what I like so much is to imagine myself as the “good cowboy,” the one that goes around sticking up for the innocents when the bad guys come to town to steal and kill. I would never have made it in the Old West (of course), so maybe that is why I’m so enthralled with it. Anyway… I digress.

I thought this movie was destined to be great. As badly as I want to believe it was, it just wasn’t. It could have been, but the last third let me down big time.

Let me start off by saying, though, that three acting performances in the movie were great: 1) Christian Bale: I’ve never seen a performance of his that wasn’t great, so no surprise there… but man, how he can play a convincing Bruce Wayne and also convince me that he’s a weathered, middle-aged, one-legged, down-on-his-luck, kids-and-wife-have-no-respect-for-me, but-I-still-have-enough-pride-to-risk-my-life to-make-a-name-for-myself-and-save-my-family rancher is beyond me. The scene where he tells Ben Wade how he really lost his foot is gut-wrenching. You can really feel his agony at the thought of the looks on his sons’ faces when they learned that he isn’t an American hero at all— just a poor, unlucky and broken man. 2) Russell Crowe: His depiction of Ben Wade was phenomenal. The only criticism I have is that he seemed to fall in and out of his southern accent— but this didn’t really have any affect on my enjoyment of the movie. You hate him and want him dead one minute, and the next minute he makes you laugh and you think that maybe under that hard exterior is a guy’s guy that you’d want to sit and have a beer with. Regardless of what you think of the character, you can’t deny that Crowe makes Wade so engaging and deep that you find yourself more interested in learning about the man and seeing what he’ll do next than watching him pay for what he’s done. 3) Ben Foster as Charlie Prince: he’s utterly despicable yet inexplicably likable. You hate him because he is a ruthless killer, but respect him because he’s so extremely loyal to his friend and co-conspirator— he was the only one willing to speak up in Wade’s defense when the rest were ready to abandon him. There is a youthful innocence in his face that presents such a stark contrast to his unsympathetic actions that you don’t know what to think of him. You think that maybe Ben Wade is the only friend he’s ever had. Maybe Wade is like a father to him. At times you get the impression that he’s a punky kid dressed up like a cowboy— but as soon as you start thinking that he blows some dude’s head off. It’s an interesting dichotomy, and maybe more a credit to the casting director than Foster himself; the point is it works.

SPOILER ALERT:

Now, what I didn’t like about the movie (I’m going to keep this short, because this post is already way too long):

-The anti-climax. I know, I know… I’m a dumb American that can’t appreciate the subtleties of modern cinema… but seriously— I wanted something more substantial. Dan didn’t deserve to die. Ben didn’t deserve to live. I know all movies can’t have a happy ending, but if this one had at least HALF a happy ending I would’ve enjoyed it a lot more. Either they should have both lived or both died. It is interesting, though, that the end of this movie leaves the door open for a phenomenal sequel, in which Dan’s son, William, stalks Ben to avenge his father’s death. Some might say that I’m missing the point— that William didn’t kill Ben because he’s too good to be a ruthless killer, and because he doesn’t believe Ben is all bad. I think William is just young, and not hard-nosed enough to realize that there’s no shame in killing the man responsible for your father’s death. When he has time to sit and stew over this, he’ll realize I’m right (cue opening scene of sequel).

-The scene in which Dan escorts Ben to the train station is so unrealistic. There were way too many men with guns for those two to make it across town without being killed. It was just too ridiculous to be convincing for me.

-Dan was a poor rancher, but he wasn’t stupid— so why, when he finally got Ben to the train, did he stand upright, in plain sight of his potential assailants, to speak to the attendant? I hated that part. He just spent ten minutes running for his life, ducking behind crates and buildings, even taking a bullet… and then it’s like he thinks he’s suddenly safe, like he reached the safe zone in a game of kick the can or something. He actually turned his back on the men that were trying to kill him. Did he think they’d let up? “Aw, darn… you beat me! Good game, Dan!” No. He knew better. The scene could have and should have been made more believable. Not only did it seem forced, but it made Dan seem stupid— not what you want to do to your protagonist.

The frustrating thing is that with this cast, and the basic storyline, this movie could have and should have been great. These major flaws, though, prevent it from reaching that next level. I’m not exactly sure how I would’ve written it— I’m no screenwriter— but I know it fell short of my expectations. At least I can still look forward to The Dark Knight.

Sunny Intervals

I was reading some news on the BBC website, and I noticed in the weather section that Brits apparently have a different name for what we commonly refer to as “partly cloudy.” They call it “sunny intervals.” I can’t help but notice how much more positive this sounds.

Is this the result of a fundamental disparity between European and American perspectives, or just another example of jocular British quirkiness? You discuss.

Soriano is hurt, and I don’t care.

Alfonso Soriano strained his right calf while catching a lazy fly ball in last night’s game (I don’t know if this is more typical of Soriano or the Cubs in general). And you know what? I don’t care. I don’t care because Soriano is quite possibly the most overrated and overpaid player in baseball, and we have plenty of other players who can step in and pull the weight.

I never liked Soriano as a lead-off hitter anyway. His career on-base percentage of .326 is pathetic. In fact, it’s worse than every other every-day position player on the team. So far this year, his OBP is .230. Compare that to Kosuke Fukudome’s .448 or Ryan Theriot’s .353 and it’s easy to see why I’m not so concerned that Soriano will be icing his calf for the next, oh, 4-6 weeks (guaranteed, the Cubs training staff will baby him as much as possible, and when he comes back he still won’t be 100%).

Here are some fun facts for Soriano lovers:

He stole an average of 35 bases per 162 games throughout his pre-Cubs career. Since joining the Cubs, he has stolen an average of 23 bases per 162 games. Last year, in 135 games, he stole 19 bases. Ryan Theriot stole 28 bases in 148 games. Some might argue that his lack of production on the base paths was because of injuries, or Piniella’s managerial style. I disagree. Ryan Theriot was playing with a bad back for half the season. I don’t hear anyone making excuses for him.

Now let’s talk about Soriano’s plate discipline— it doesn’t exist. In 579 at-bats last year, Soriano struck out 130 times. That’s 22% of the time. Aramis Ramirez, also a power hitter, struck out just 13% of the time. Ryan Theriot struck out just 9% of the time. One might argue that Derrek Lee has a similar strikeout percentage— but don’t forget that, in addition to 2007 being an off-year for Lee, he also walked 71 times, and had an OBP of .400. Soriano? 31 walks, and an OBP of .337. Those kinds of numbers are unacceptable for a lead-off hitter.

Lou must be under a great deal of pressure from above to keep Soriano at the top of the lineup (or anywhere in the lineup, for that matter). He seems like a better strategist than that. Kosuke Fukudome would make an ideal lead-off hitter with his combination of speed, power, and plate discipline— but he’s batting 5th. Ryan Theriot gets some chances in the lead-off spot, but always ends up being shuffled around the lineup since Soriano can’t seem to produce outside of the one-hole. Theriot batted .300 in 150 lead-off ABs last year, with an OBP of .342 (not great, but better than Soriano) and 13 doubles. The most important stat to me, though, was strikeouts— he had just 16 Ks in 150 ABs (under 11%).

Lastly, I’d like to point out Soriano’s biggest weakness— hitting with people on base. Sure, he’s a lead-off hitter, but he’s also a power hitter, and power hitters are supposed to drive in runs. Here are Soriano’s numbers with runners in scoring position over the last three years: BA-.237; 93K in 384 ABs (24%). And his numbers with runners in scoring position and two outs: BA-.211; 51K in 209 ABs (24%). In a word, disgusting.

The problem is with Soriano’s name— it’s gotten to big. It’s certainly bigger than his numbers, and it’s hurting the Cubs, because they can’t seem to recognize that Soriano, while a dangerous hitter and solid defensive player, is not the superstar he’s long been touted to be. I look forward to a few less strikeouts and a few more hits with men on base in the coming weeks. Maybe they’ll realize they don’t need him or his inflated salary and trade him before the deadline for a player that can actually help us win the Series.