The Game High

Tossing Barr'oids Balls Back

Ho-hum.  So Barry Bonds knocked a couple homers out of Wrigley today, with one landing onto Sheffield, but no one threw in back into the park?  Hypocrites.  If fans are going to boo Bonds and hold up signs with syringes drawn on them, then perhaps they ought to uphold those opinions when financial gain, in the form of an historic baseball, comes flying their way.

If you consider Barry's homerun stats tainted by steroid abuse, then any home run ball he slugs should be considered worthless.  But in reality, we know that's not the case.  Steroids or not, the homerun balls for number 755 (to tie the all-time HR record) and 756 (to break it) are going to command high prices in today's fanatical sports memorabilia market.  Unless you actually believe Bonds never took steroids in his life... it's greed, plain and simple, for anyone who wishes to possess these juiced homerun balls.

But if you're looking for the ultimate form of social justice, how could you not throw back the impending historical homerun balls from Bonds?  Just imagine look on Barry's face when he's rounding the bases and sees his ball "rejected" by the fans.  You would be labeled an instead hero.  You would make endless appearances on every sports medium - talk radio, local news, ESPN, Dateline, you name it.  You would be instantly famous.  It's not everyday in America that someone upholds their moral values in the face of monetary windfall.

Plus, you would have the makings of a classic MasterCard commericial:

Transit fare on the Red Line to Wrigley:  $2

Two scalped bleacher tickets to the ballpark:  $120

Hot dogs, beer, baseball mitt and smuggled flask of bourbon:  $87.50

Catching Barry Bonds 756th career homerun and throwing it back onto the field because this world should not recognize the efforts of cheaters... Priceless.

Poor Barry.  If only he'd stayed off the 'roids, he probably wouldn't have missed so many games/near seasons over the course of his grumpy career.  Given his immense natural ability, he could have kept a slow and steady pace of homerun hitting and would probably be on pace to break Hank Aaron's hallowed record.

The Musings of Bob Brenly

To say that Chicago's local TV sportscasters are a tough listen would be an understatement.  Hawk and DJ are so wrist-slashingly awful, you're better off watching the game on mute.  Tom Dore and Johnny "Red" Kerr are pleasant fellows, but don't generate much viewer excitement.  Wayne Larrivee is downright awful when he sits in for Dore and should probably stick to football.  And hearing a post 18-holes, sun-baked Ditka call a Bears preseason game is fun for about the first ten minutes.  So that covers baseball, football, and basketball here.  As far as I know, professional hockey is defunct in Chicago.

Indeed, the only play-by-play or color commentary man I can recall anyone looking forward to hearing was former Bulls play-by-play man Jim Durham.  Durham called games with the perfect balance of passion, analysis, and fan biased rage.  He could get on the refs like no other when properly incensed.

But recently, the Cubs TV crew of Len Kasper and Bob Brenly has gone from underwelming to mildly entertaining, and Brenly deserves quite a bit of credit for this improvement.  While he doesn't bring the near prophetic breakdowns of pitcher/batter match-ups like Steve Stone, Brenly does give the listener a great feel for the ambiance and subtleties of the game.  And there hasn't been a full-on mustache this prominent in the Chicago sports scene since the days of Dave Wannestedt.

Baseball is a casual, beer-in-hand, game for the listener.  Brenly realizes this, especially at Wrigley, and paces himself accordingly.  Criticized early on for his silence, or lack of analysis, Brenly now seems more comfortable in his commentary role.   He will provide quality insights where appropriate and his sense of humor is coming out.  At this point I would enumerate a memorable list of Brenly quotes, but I'm usually too drunk to remember them. 

On Sunday against the Astros, he did liken the Cubs efforts at hitting home runs to banging on the bottom of a ketcup bottle.  You keep hitting the bottle and sooner or later that stubborn ketcup is going to start flowing.  When it was 6-6 after three innings, Brenly succinctly stated:

"The ketcup bottle is open."

With his managerial pedigree and amicable personality, it's only a matter of time before another dugout opportunity comes calling for Brenly.  So Cub fans may have to enjoy his presence in Chicago while it lasts.

Sexual assault with a concrete dildo...

...what the hell's got into you, Frank?

Couldn't resist the Naked Gun quote for this ridiculous piece of news.  In Keizer, Oregon the newly installed cement posts designed to protect pedestrians from cars are being criticized for their strong resemblance to male genitalia.

"I can't disagree with that," said City Manager Chris Eppley.  "They certainly did not turn out the way we anticipated."

So what's the solution?  The city is looking into retrofitting the posts with metal collars and chains that run between them.  Hmmmmmmm.

Perhaps a more open and tolerant city such as San Francisco would welcome these pillars of cock lest they be taken down, or should we say, un-erected?

Speaking of San Francisco, White Sox GM Kenny Williams must be heartened to see Aaron Rowand, Magglio Ordonez, AND Carlos Lee all playing in the MLB All-Star game there tonight.   But hey, at least he's got Jim Thome.

White Sox Lose 32 - 10 To Twins

The disastrous season the White Sox have put together this year is reaching new levels of absurdity.  To lose a double-header by a combined 22 runs (20 - 14 Game 1, 10 - 0 Game 2) is a milestone achievement for Ozzie's squad.  To add some perspective to the Twins offensive pummeling of the Sox, just remember that the Minnesota Vikings aren't going to score more than 30 points on any game day this year.

However, Jim Thome's bat is doing all it can to deliver head shots to opposing players.  In one scary moment, Thome lost his bat on his after-swing and simultaneously knocked out Twins catcher Mike Redmond and the home plate umpire.  Redmond had blood flowing profusely from his head and is probably wondering why the Sox haven't simply forfeited their season by now.

At this point, I doubt any of the *new* season ticket holders at The Cell would refuse a partial refund of their season tickets if the Sox just called it a season on July 8th.  After all, these are the same fans who would have shelled out over eight grand for a couple seats in 2005 in order to get access to White Sox playoff and World Series tickets. 

Oh well, I guess Sox fans still have memories of those good times a couple years back.  But whoever thought they would be fading so fast?

We Are Living in a Society Here!

I guess this is old news, but really, who didn't see this one coming?  With everything moving online, rednecks are now tech savvy enough and blood thirsty enough to virtually stalk and shoot live prey. 

But never fear my furry forest friends, Illinois lawmakers have stepped up to the plate to ban such activities:

House Bill 201, introduced by Representative Dan Reitz (D-116th), and Senate Bill 518, introduced by Senator John Cullerton (D-6), prohibits operating, providing, selling, or using any computer software or service that allows a person not present at the hunt site to remotely control a weapon to take wildlife.

Now, I fully endorse any software that would allow me to anonymously fire non-lethal ammo at live humans for sport, but shooting animals for any reason is just plain wrong. 

With the convergence of online and offline worlds, the explosion in reality television and gameshows, the overcrowding of state prisons, and the fact that Texas still remains one of our 50 states, how long is it before The Running Man becomes a reality?

Gimme that spatula! I'm back, baby!

If Frank Constanza can overcome his Korean War tragedy involving six hundred pounds of Texas steer and start cooking again, then it's time for this slacker to reinsert himself back into the fray and start posting.

So what happens when you quit your current job, start working for a new employer, see your hours skyrocket, realize you face more corporate internet access restrictions than there are marbles in Ozzie Guillen's left cheek, and then spend a month in Oaxaca, Mexico tracking down a shaman to explore the effects of salvia divinorum?  Ignore that last part.  Well for one, your blog goes to shit. 

Oh, you thought this blog was a full-time gig?  Well, you haven't seen the non-staggering advertising revenue (damn you infernal Google Ads!).

But enough bitching.  The only motivation for having a job is (1) for the money, obviously, and (2) to see how much crap you can get away with without getting canned.  Clearly, I'm woefully underachieving in the latter.  If anyone needs me, I'll be in the can...