Welp, they did it. The Chicago Cubs are playing in the World Series for the first time in over seven decades. They were on the precipice in 2015, and this year they finally connected the dots. So far things haven't totally worked in their direction; they won Game 2, but now it looks like the Cleveland Indians --another team with a historical schneid-- has the upper hand in the series.
This might sound cavalier for a Chicago native, but I am neither a Cubs or White Sox fan. I've never related to the south siders, but Cubs fans can be insufferable. I've been in and around Wrigleyville enough times, game day or not, to know how cloying their presence can be. Bros and alpha males rule the roost. The playoff atmosphere in the neighborhood has been akin to a zombie movie, albeit with the stench of Axe body spray. I am perfectly oblivious to the fact that the Cubs haven't won a championship in over a century, or that this is their first Fall Classic appearance since Harry Truman was president.
A rational person would blame the Cubs' woes on astonishingly poor management and scouting, with maybe a scintilla of bad luck. Any die-hard fan would tell you that the Cubs are cursed. The 1969 Cubs, the most discussed and hallowed second place team of all time, weren't running on fumes as the season was winding down. The fans blamed a black cat. The 1945 squad, the last to win a pennant until 2016, apparently weren't outmatched by an almost flawless Detroit Tigers team. The fans chose to blame an ornery Greek immigrant and his pet goat. The 2003 Cubs' collapse in the NLCS was fueled by hubris, triggered by Moises Alou's diminishing defensive skills. The fans found a scapegoat in Steve Bartman. Its a giant mess of superstition and false tradition.
So why have the Cubs gone over a century without a title, and endured seven decades without contending for a championship? Look no further than P.K. Wrigley. Upon inheriting the organization in 1932, this scion of a gum empire often let his own personal interests trump most baseball matters. He refused to install lights in the ballpark when night games were more convenient for burgeoning TV audiences. Wrigley was reluctant to sign players of color, and its no coincidence that the Cubs were the last original National League team to integrate. He had a reputation for being frugal, reticent, and petty. Wrigley's damage to the organization was so thorough, it took four decades after his death for the Cubs organization to make a complete recovery.
For all the progress that Theo Epstein has made in the organization these last five years, the Cubs are still another year away from winning a title. For once, they had management that knew what they were doing, and with the Ricketts family, they have ownership that makes an effort. What this collective group is doing is light years ahead of what the Tribune Company did in their 27 years of ownership, and they pulled the seemingly impossible feat of getting the Cubs back in the playoffs. Still, the majority of the Cubs faithful are a shortsighted yet steadfast group, both deserving of some success yet they still stand in their own way.
Next Week: My final thoughts on the 2016 election.
(532)
Saturday, October 29, 2016
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
It's Over
It's over.
I wondered if sharing this Roy Orbison song was too on the nose, but it ran through my head as I forced myself to watch these last two weeks of election coverage. The temptation was too much.
As a presidential candidate, and the likely instigator of what must be the ugliest election I've ever seen, Donald Trump has been able to persist through one perceived miscue and campaign faux pas after another. Now it appears that the meltdown is all but complete. Leaked video footage of Trump making lewd and beyond appalling remarks in a 2005 "Access Hollywood" appearance cemented the floating perception that he was a hopeless misogynist. After a succinct apology in the second presidential debate, at least a half-dozen women have stepped forward to accuse Trump of lewd behavior. His foothold with woman voters, shaky as it already was, has collapsed. Just about every demographic except white males have abandoned Trump as this point, if they were ever on board to begin with. Worse yet, it reinvigorated the national discussion on sexual assault that hurt the Republican Party as a whole in the 2012 election.
One might wonder why these women haven't stepped forward until now. I suppose my response to that is why does timing matter? The women that have accused Trump of sexual harassment have their entire livelihoods at stake; the man being accused could let these accusations bounce off like Teflon. The man is a multi-millionaire and a presidential candidate, after all. There are parallels here to the downfall of comedian Bill Cosby; where the sitcom star was a serial date-rapist, Trump has a history of inappropriately touching fully conscious women. There are vast differences, overly simplified in some people's eyes, but both are appalling and reprehensible behaviors regardless.
Regardless of your opinion of Sec. Hillary Clinton --and yes, she has plenty of detractors-- we have to accept that she will be the next President of the United States. Her campaign has been at times uninspiring and perhaps even clumsy, but it never sank to the incompetence, bloviating, and pandering of the Trump campaign. (I will spare you the "Pretty Woman" reference.) It will not be a canonization or a coronation, but a reminder that most of the time, the bad guy loses.
(531)
I wondered if sharing this Roy Orbison song was too on the nose, but it ran through my head as I forced myself to watch these last two weeks of election coverage. The temptation was too much.
As a presidential candidate, and the likely instigator of what must be the ugliest election I've ever seen, Donald Trump has been able to persist through one perceived miscue and campaign faux pas after another. Now it appears that the meltdown is all but complete. Leaked video footage of Trump making lewd and beyond appalling remarks in a 2005 "Access Hollywood" appearance cemented the floating perception that he was a hopeless misogynist. After a succinct apology in the second presidential debate, at least a half-dozen women have stepped forward to accuse Trump of lewd behavior. His foothold with woman voters, shaky as it already was, has collapsed. Just about every demographic except white males have abandoned Trump as this point, if they were ever on board to begin with. Worse yet, it reinvigorated the national discussion on sexual assault that hurt the Republican Party as a whole in the 2012 election.
One might wonder why these women haven't stepped forward until now. I suppose my response to that is why does timing matter? The women that have accused Trump of sexual harassment have their entire livelihoods at stake; the man being accused could let these accusations bounce off like Teflon. The man is a multi-millionaire and a presidential candidate, after all. There are parallels here to the downfall of comedian Bill Cosby; where the sitcom star was a serial date-rapist, Trump has a history of inappropriately touching fully conscious women. There are vast differences, overly simplified in some people's eyes, but both are appalling and reprehensible behaviors regardless.
Regardless of your opinion of Sec. Hillary Clinton --and yes, she has plenty of detractors-- we have to accept that she will be the next President of the United States. Her campaign has been at times uninspiring and perhaps even clumsy, but it never sank to the incompetence, bloviating, and pandering of the Trump campaign. (I will spare you the "Pretty Woman" reference.) It will not be a canonization or a coronation, but a reminder that most of the time, the bad guy loses.
(531)
Thursday, October 13, 2016
My Toxic College Relationship, Part 3
Even though Babs was no longer dating Zak, she wanted to stay friends with the big doofus. This was much to the chagrin of her social circle as well as our mutual friends, who justifiably disdained the guy. Babs took it upon herself to organize Zak's birthday party; she corralled me, a friend visiting from home, and two friends that were local into taking Zak to the Bloomington Hooters. At his core, however Zak was a Christian and not a very worldly one; at the very last minute, he begged Babs to not at a risque restaurant that he knew next to nothing about. Our party ended up going to the Chuck E. Cheese's across the street. I was annoyed by the 11th hour change as everyone else, and implied to Babs that I never wanted to hang out with Zak again.
When I was dating Babs, we bonded over our mutual appreciation for the TV show "24." I had been watching almost from the beginning, but she jumped in at the start of Season/Day 4. We watched nearly all of Day 5 together, and didn't see any reason why not to do the same for Day 6. One night later in the season, we both had obligations on Monday and I agreed to record the show on my VCR. (It was 2007, and most college kids didn't have Tivo or a DVR.) To my chagrin, my roommate confused the VCR remote with the TV remote --he was trying to watch the Bulls game-- and it didn't record. I left the voice mail on Babs' phone, and ten minutes later she called back to tell me I was an idiot. Before I could defend myself, she hung up. Another ten minutes after that, she instant messaged me to apologize for overreacting. We watched "24" together a couple of times after that, but ended up watching the rest of the season separately.
In March 2007, I went on my first date since breaking up with Babs. I was training a new DJ at my college radio station, we struck up a conversation, and we agreed to meet for coffee. She wasn't interested in dating, but we ended up staying friends and we're still in touch. (I have a habit of staying friends with one-and-dones.) It was a dead end, but at least I was finally moving on. At that same time, to my secret relief Babs and I were finally starting to drift apart. She started dating another guy, and our schedules kept clashing. We both had summer jobs, and I had summer school as well, so we didn't see each other for several months. As summer transitioned into fall semester, we never hung out and our encounters grew more sporadic. Babs was dating yet another guy, and I felt no inclination to entertain her in my new dorm room. The temptation to tell her off was too much.
Even though Babs was fading from sight, what she left in her path still lingered around. One girl, a mutual friend that eventually got fed up with Babs, worked at the same college radio station that I did. I still ran into Lola and one of her other roommates on the quad. One day at the station, Zak called out of nowhere asking for help with a move. He wasn't the bullying Zak that I knew, but slightly defeated and still rather persistent. I said I would get back to him, and shortly afterwards I did something I should have a lot sooner: ask for the advice of my peers. I explained that he was the guy my ex dumped me for, and that he could be insufferable to be around, but seemed desperate to have someone help him move. The consensus of my co-workers was a resounding "hell no," and I left a voice mail telling him I was busy that Saturday.
The day before I graduated from ISU, I ran into Babs on the elevator at Watterson Towers. I was cleaning out my dorm room and carrying items down to my car, and she was going downstairs to get a snack. She informed me that she'd had a falling out with her latest roommate, a mutual friend of ours named Allison. For reasons unclear, Allison made Babs uncomfortable, so Babs decided to move into a single-bed room on the other side of campus. I blurted out "oh well, its not like you got along with any of your other roommates" (which was true), and when we got down to the lobby she bolted out of the elevator in a fury. A few minutes later, I was able to find to her in the lobby talking to some girl, but she was snappish and refused to accept my apology.
As of this writing, it was the last time I saw Babs in person.
(Part four next month.)
(530)
When I was dating Babs, we bonded over our mutual appreciation for the TV show "24." I had been watching almost from the beginning, but she jumped in at the start of Season/Day 4. We watched nearly all of Day 5 together, and didn't see any reason why not to do the same for Day 6. One night later in the season, we both had obligations on Monday and I agreed to record the show on my VCR. (It was 2007, and most college kids didn't have Tivo or a DVR.) To my chagrin, my roommate confused the VCR remote with the TV remote --he was trying to watch the Bulls game-- and it didn't record. I left the voice mail on Babs' phone, and ten minutes later she called back to tell me I was an idiot. Before I could defend myself, she hung up. Another ten minutes after that, she instant messaged me to apologize for overreacting. We watched "24" together a couple of times after that, but ended up watching the rest of the season separately.
In March 2007, I went on my first date since breaking up with Babs. I was training a new DJ at my college radio station, we struck up a conversation, and we agreed to meet for coffee. She wasn't interested in dating, but we ended up staying friends and we're still in touch. (I have a habit of staying friends with one-and-dones.) It was a dead end, but at least I was finally moving on. At that same time, to my secret relief Babs and I were finally starting to drift apart. She started dating another guy, and our schedules kept clashing. We both had summer jobs, and I had summer school as well, so we didn't see each other for several months. As summer transitioned into fall semester, we never hung out and our encounters grew more sporadic. Babs was dating yet another guy, and I felt no inclination to entertain her in my new dorm room. The temptation to tell her off was too much.
Even though Babs was fading from sight, what she left in her path still lingered around. One girl, a mutual friend that eventually got fed up with Babs, worked at the same college radio station that I did. I still ran into Lola and one of her other roommates on the quad. One day at the station, Zak called out of nowhere asking for help with a move. He wasn't the bullying Zak that I knew, but slightly defeated and still rather persistent. I said I would get back to him, and shortly afterwards I did something I should have a lot sooner: ask for the advice of my peers. I explained that he was the guy my ex dumped me for, and that he could be insufferable to be around, but seemed desperate to have someone help him move. The consensus of my co-workers was a resounding "hell no," and I left a voice mail telling him I was busy that Saturday.
The day before I graduated from ISU, I ran into Babs on the elevator at Watterson Towers. I was cleaning out my dorm room and carrying items down to my car, and she was going downstairs to get a snack. She informed me that she'd had a falling out with her latest roommate, a mutual friend of ours named Allison. For reasons unclear, Allison made Babs uncomfortable, so Babs decided to move into a single-bed room on the other side of campus. I blurted out "oh well, its not like you got along with any of your other roommates" (which was true), and when we got down to the lobby she bolted out of the elevator in a fury. A few minutes later, I was able to find to her in the lobby talking to some girl, but she was snappish and refused to accept my apology.
As of this writing, it was the last time I saw Babs in person.
(Part four next month.)
(530)
Thursday, September 29, 2016
Random Notes, September 2016
The first presidential debate of 2016 reminded me of a boxing match. Donald Trump may have thrown more punches --an insult here and there, on top of a zillion interruptions-- but maybe half of them landed. However, Hillary Clinton simultaneously kept her cool yet knew exactly how to provoke (and expose) Trump. The GOP candidate's remark on stamina, and Clinton's clever response, ending up being the knockout punch. Trump didn't seem to take a big plunge in the polls --you have to admit, the hayseeds that have hijacked the GOP are fiercely loyal to the guy-- but his first head-to-head match-up was by no means a success.
Besides talking about this blasted election, what else is going on?
+ My Royals are not going to the playoffs this year. I've done my best to not whine about our erratic pitching and the various key injuries we've had this year, but I will readily admit that another postseason wasn't in the cards for 2016. Right now, a .500 record for a fourth consecutive year is a more attainable goal. This roster probably has another year left before the economics of the game eats the organization alive (i.e. free agency) so I'm already looking forward to next year.
+ On the home front, I started grad school in late August. I'm going for a masters in secondary education, with a focus on English and language arts. So far things are going okay, it's been a matter of keeping up with the coursework. Still, I'm giving myself one semester just to see if this is going to work out, and the program takes 2 1/2 years.
+ Happy belated third anniversary to Stu News!
(529)
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
Sudden Resurgence
What a difference a month makes. Since the wonks first wrote off the Trump campaign, the polarizing real estate magnate has made an effort of sorts to "sound" presidential while not necessarily overhauling his platform or agenda. At the same time, despite what conservative critics would call miscues --the pneumonia situation was blown way out of proportion-- Hillary Clinton's campaign hasn't seemed very inspiring. As a result, the knee-slapper from mid-August is a tight race again.
If name-calling, xenophobia, and outright falsehoods drove new faces into the Republican tent, then I'm sure that particular part of Donald Trump's rhetoric can't be forgotten as this sordid election zooms past third base. Perhaps the most blatant about-face was Trump's announcement that he believed the incumbent president was born in Hawaii and not Kenya, ending 5 1/2 years of conspiracy theorizing. (I'll well aware that this sad "birther" phenomenon started well before that.) I suppose he can use that bizarre about-face to his leverage, as many Americans can't get past that whole e-mail thing, but it's a still a admission of Trump's blatant opportunism.
*sigh* Only six more weeks...
(528)
If name-calling, xenophobia, and outright falsehoods drove new faces into the Republican tent, then I'm sure that particular part of Donald Trump's rhetoric can't be forgotten as this sordid election zooms past third base. Perhaps the most blatant about-face was Trump's announcement that he believed the incumbent president was born in Hawaii and not Kenya, ending 5 1/2 years of conspiracy theorizing. (I'll well aware that this sad "birther" phenomenon started well before that.) I suppose he can use that bizarre about-face to his leverage, as many Americans can't get past that whole e-mail thing, but it's a still a admission of Trump's blatant opportunism.
*sigh* Only six more weeks...
(528)
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
My Toxic College Relationship, Part 2
A week or so ago, I wrote started writing a personal essay about "Babs," my college girlfriend. (To read part one before going forward, click here.)
A few hours after our one-on-one sitdown, Babs dropped a line on Yahoo Messenger to ask if I wanted to grab some ice cream. I agreed, not really knowing what to expect. However, I made the fatal mistake of misreading her last dispatch as "see you at five" instead of "see you in five." For once her quick temper was justified, and we did not speak to each other for about three weeks.
I figured the healthy thing to do was to not focus on our failed relationship. I went about my business with school and finding a job as if nothing happened. Out of the blue, I ran into Babs and her new paramour Zak --yes, no C in his first name-- waiting for an elevator at Watterson Towers. We first encountered Zak a few months earlier on Normal public transit; she randomly struck up a conversation with the guy, and I guess they had stayed in touch. I didn't think, however that he would be her rebound.
Babs had a history of dating guys that were the same physical type: north of six feet tall, pasty and paunchy. Growing up rural and an affinity for cowboy hats were a plus. I was well aware that I was an exception, because she said she was going through a "nerdy boy" phase. The guy she two-timed me with had a build similar to mine (slight and gawky) but her preference was big and lumbering.
After our five-second encounter in the lobby, Babs messaged me on YIM that night. She wanted to talk things out, but it became a rehash of her previous bullet points: she hated my mom, she judged my religious beliefs (or lack thereof), I was weak and immature. And yet, she still wanted to be friends. Since I thought there was an outside chance we might become friends with benefits --again, I was thinking with my pants-- I decided to give it a shot.
Two nights later, I was awoken by the landline in our dorm room. (Keep in mind, it was 2006.) Babs was in hysterics. Apparently, she was not getting along with her new roommate, a woman named Lola. The roommate was a Black Studies major and very independent, and as far as politics and personality went she was the total opposite of Babs. Apparently, they nearly came to blows late one Saturday, and Babs asked if she could sleep at my dorm. Again, I begrudgingly agreed.
Babs grew up in Park Forest, a diverse, blue-collar suburb just south of Chicago. In a town that was about 40% white, 30% black, and 30 % Latino, Babs had a unjustified contempt for the 60% of the population that wasn't "her kind." One time when we were dating, we took a day trip to Starved Rock National Park. As we were leaving, I had to stop her from running over to a Mexican family because they weren't "speaking American." There was another time we were watching the 6 o'clock news at her house, and upon watching a news story about a 12-year-old African-American had been murdered, Babs said the middle schooler was "probably asking for it." Deciding to live with someone as headstrong as Lola was an attempt to show people she wasn't a bigot, but her true colors showed almost immediately. Within two weeks, Brit had moved into a new dorm room with a Jewish roommate. (As near as I can tell, she was not anti-Semetic.)
I volunteered to help out with this awkward, uncomfortable move-out, and it was there that I met a girl named Kathleen. She was a friend of a friend who was also free that afternoon; we struck up a conversation, became Facebook friends, and we agreed to meet for lunch the next day. It ultimately didn't work out, but it was my first earnest attempt at moving on from Babs. (Kathleen is married now, but we've stayed in touch.)
I thought the fact that we were no longer dating would discourage Babs from trying to "convert" me, but if anything else it made her --and her doofus paramour Zak-- double down. I was dragged into attending more campus ministry events, where they and some other born-again types tried to "convert" me. Where Babs used a passive-aggressive approach, Zak was a straight-up bully. I tried to make the most of my time there, but almost everyone I encountered acted like they were brainwashed. After two weeks of that nonsense, I kept telling Brit I was busy on those particular nights.
It was apparent after attempting to hang out with Babs and Zak a few times that he didn't seem to have any real friends. I don't think he was self-aware enough to know his approach to people was bullying, or at the very least condescending. He was a poseur, too; he claimed he was from Texas, but grew up 45 minutes from Normal. Not only was Zak annoying me about accepting Christ as my lord and savior, but he was starting to badger some of the guys on my dorm floor.
I guess at some point even Babs grew tired of his schtick, because their relationship ended after about four months. Over winter break, Brit called to apologize for being so pushy. She knew she was alienating people, and wanted to make amends. One night after the next semester started, I met with Babs and Zak for dinner; Zak was making me uncomfortable again, and I left early because I thought I had food poisoning. Babs dumped Zak the next day.
(Part three next month.)
(527)
A few hours after our one-on-one sitdown, Babs dropped a line on Yahoo Messenger to ask if I wanted to grab some ice cream. I agreed, not really knowing what to expect. However, I made the fatal mistake of misreading her last dispatch as "see you at five" instead of "see you in five." For once her quick temper was justified, and we did not speak to each other for about three weeks.
I figured the healthy thing to do was to not focus on our failed relationship. I went about my business with school and finding a job as if nothing happened. Out of the blue, I ran into Babs and her new paramour Zak --yes, no C in his first name-- waiting for an elevator at Watterson Towers. We first encountered Zak a few months earlier on Normal public transit; she randomly struck up a conversation with the guy, and I guess they had stayed in touch. I didn't think, however that he would be her rebound.
Babs had a history of dating guys that were the same physical type: north of six feet tall, pasty and paunchy. Growing up rural and an affinity for cowboy hats were a plus. I was well aware that I was an exception, because she said she was going through a "nerdy boy" phase. The guy she two-timed me with had a build similar to mine (slight and gawky) but her preference was big and lumbering.
After our five-second encounter in the lobby, Babs messaged me on YIM that night. She wanted to talk things out, but it became a rehash of her previous bullet points: she hated my mom, she judged my religious beliefs (or lack thereof), I was weak and immature. And yet, she still wanted to be friends. Since I thought there was an outside chance we might become friends with benefits --again, I was thinking with my pants-- I decided to give it a shot.
Two nights later, I was awoken by the landline in our dorm room. (Keep in mind, it was 2006.) Babs was in hysterics. Apparently, she was not getting along with her new roommate, a woman named Lola. The roommate was a Black Studies major and very independent, and as far as politics and personality went she was the total opposite of Babs. Apparently, they nearly came to blows late one Saturday, and Babs asked if she could sleep at my dorm. Again, I begrudgingly agreed.
Babs grew up in Park Forest, a diverse, blue-collar suburb just south of Chicago. In a town that was about 40% white, 30% black, and 30 % Latino, Babs had a unjustified contempt for the 60% of the population that wasn't "her kind." One time when we were dating, we took a day trip to Starved Rock National Park. As we were leaving, I had to stop her from running over to a Mexican family because they weren't "speaking American." There was another time we were watching the 6 o'clock news at her house, and upon watching a news story about a 12-year-old African-American had been murdered, Babs said the middle schooler was "probably asking for it." Deciding to live with someone as headstrong as Lola was an attempt to show people she wasn't a bigot, but her true colors showed almost immediately. Within two weeks, Brit had moved into a new dorm room with a Jewish roommate. (As near as I can tell, she was not anti-Semetic.)
I volunteered to help out with this awkward, uncomfortable move-out, and it was there that I met a girl named Kathleen. She was a friend of a friend who was also free that afternoon; we struck up a conversation, became Facebook friends, and we agreed to meet for lunch the next day. It ultimately didn't work out, but it was my first earnest attempt at moving on from Babs. (Kathleen is married now, but we've stayed in touch.)
I thought the fact that we were no longer dating would discourage Babs from trying to "convert" me, but if anything else it made her --and her doofus paramour Zak-- double down. I was dragged into attending more campus ministry events, where they and some other born-again types tried to "convert" me. Where Babs used a passive-aggressive approach, Zak was a straight-up bully. I tried to make the most of my time there, but almost everyone I encountered acted like they were brainwashed. After two weeks of that nonsense, I kept telling Brit I was busy on those particular nights.
It was apparent after attempting to hang out with Babs and Zak a few times that he didn't seem to have any real friends. I don't think he was self-aware enough to know his approach to people was bullying, or at the very least condescending. He was a poseur, too; he claimed he was from Texas, but grew up 45 minutes from Normal. Not only was Zak annoying me about accepting Christ as my lord and savior, but he was starting to badger some of the guys on my dorm floor.
I guess at some point even Babs grew tired of his schtick, because their relationship ended after about four months. Over winter break, Brit called to apologize for being so pushy. She knew she was alienating people, and wanted to make amends. One night after the next semester started, I met with Babs and Zak for dinner; Zak was making me uncomfortable again, and I left early because I thought I had food poisoning. Babs dumped Zak the next day.
(Part three next month.)
(527)
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