Cubs Fall to Cardinals, Emotions

By: Chicago Sports Review

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

 - A New ViewThis must have hurt. To be outclassed. To not only be out-classed, but by a team that was, well, classy.

There were the St. Louis Cardinals, bludgeoning Chicago Cubs dreams with the second demoralizing defeat in as many days, coming back from a 7-1 deficit to win 11-8, sweeping a precious two-game set.

There were the Cardinals, not retaliating, a day after Carlos Zambrano had hit Jim Edmonds not once, but twice in a scene for a pitcher that could have made John McEnroe blush. And it was Cardinals starter Matt Morris, struggling today, but almost mockingly throwing behind Corey Patterson just once, as if to say, “I could hit you, but it ain’t worth it.”.

And these were those Cardinals, quietly trotting around the bases, another home run landing softly in the crowd and yet managing to ache for Cubs fans like an aluminum bat groin shot.

And now, because of these Cardinals, the Cubs are already Wild Card hunting? Yep.

This was as painful a two game series of Cub meltdowns as could be imagined for Wrigley gatherers. Two games that felt like The Princess Bride’s Wesley, in the pit of despair. It only took a couple minutes, but it seemed to suck fifty years of their lives away.

These are the Cardinals, too casual and confident in victory, all but driving the new Ferrari home with the runway model, but kind enough to introduce the Cubs to her revolting cousin, the Wild Card, who they both claim, “Has one hell of a personality, just give her a chance.”

This Cub team of hunks? This team of flame-throwers and moon-ball launchers? This team that was supposed to date the prom queen is already settling for the one who’d be prettier without her glasses, the drooling, the mustache, and hell, “She could lose fifty pounds.”?

And there was Alfred E. Pujols, as in “What me worry?”, chipping away the Cubs lead almost effortlessly. And with his last 360-foot trot, chipping away at hope, ending his day 5-5 for with three homers. Too easy.

“It’s one of those days you never forget,” said a reflective Pujols after his afternoon Cubby barbecue. Infuriating. Here were the Cubs, trying our darndest, and there was Pujols, happy, yet subdued, a man looking back on a good day at his steady paying job, not a life altering achievement.

There were the Cardinals, thrilled, but with perspective, as if the term “Wait ‘til next year” wasn’t a part of the local nomenclature.

There was Sammy Sosa with another 0 for 5, forcing discerning ears to question what they were hearing: boo’s, or a happy welcome of Aloooouuuu. Hard to tell the difference. Alou has been struggling.

Were both Cubs sluggers hearing the same chorus?

These were the Cubs, mis-behaving, getting fired up, trying to impress somebody with mis-guided tenacity, like an angry teenager realizing the strength to punch his first hole in the drywall. In retrospect, did it feel so good? Did it quell the anger? Did it manifest any passion that this team can ride?

Does emotion fueled by anger rely to heavily on regular defeat?

Was it really just a desperate attempt to convince such loyal fans that fire remains?

Here were the Cubs, dropping the crucial homestand this week, winning but once against the Brewers, who used to be so lovable when they stunk. Most teams are.

Chicago knows that all too well.

And there fans were, still talking today about how a 3rd base coach allows a hobbling runner to test a Gold Glove arm with nobody out, and really no chance of scoring even if Charlie Brown was in right field — only precious steps from the infield grass. Does anybody recall this much controversy over a 3rd base coach?

Nope. That’s because nobody remembers this many obvious mistakes from one. Apparently they do more than lay down a good bunt signal. And these are the Cubs and their fans, sadly able and willing to attribute fault to another outside-the-lines goat. A scapegoat.

These are the Cubs, already looming in a sad race for the Wild Card, with the beer-aided silver lining reminding them that the last two World Series champs have found a chrome finish after some late season polishing.

If this is the season it all happens, these are the Cubs, and one road seems blocked.

With the disconsolate remnants of another series where class and talent shined brightly, but wore gray and red, these are the Cubs, and an uphill climb awaits.

Ten games back, 69 games to go. Steep, but feasible.

Perhaps the stank prom date will turn into a starlet? Too many 80’s flicks have convinced the Cubs that it’s possible. I shouldn’t have said it.

Now 1985 is the only year they can recall. Sound familiar?

These are the Cubs.

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