Mark McGuire held a press conference yesterday that was an “open house” to show off the improvements the Cubs are making to Wrigley Field this winter.
What it really was, was their chance to let Cubs fans down easy before spring training actually starts.
For six months now they have sat back and let Cubs fans spread the word of the renovations. How there was going to be that glory hole in right field where people could look in from outside the park and watch the game.
Turns out, that’s not true. The Cubs are looking to come up with a way to block that off so that only people already in the park can look through as they make their way from the bleachers to the rest of the park (which we never could do before.)
The “restaurant” in center turns out to just be another soul-less luxury suite. They’re going to take one section of bleachers and put real seat on them, call them bleacher boxes (an oxymoron almost as glaring as Cubs Win!) and charge an extra twenty bucks for you to sit in them.
Do I feel bad for the ballhawks, those eccentrics who camp out on the street waiting for a homer to fly over the walls and into their laps? The extra rows of bleachers could cut down drastically on how many balls literally leave the park.
Uh…no. Get a new hobby. One a little less pathetic. Honestly, killing fat girls to make a skin suit is less pathetic than dragging a lawn chair and a transistor radio into the street to wait for a really long pop up.
Do I feel bad for the rooftops whose views might be affected by the new rows of bleachers?
Yes. Boo freakin’ hoo. Go buy some taller metal bleachers, you humps.
Teddy G. on Al Michaels leaving ESPN. It even has a quote from ESPN honcho John Skipper who once replied to an e-mail from me (in 2002) with, “I think your stuff is great. I’ll talk to [name omitted to protect the innocent–thought it’s Sports Guy’s editor Kevin Jackson] about finding a spot for you on our Web site.” So right there we know it’s all very happily spun BS.
I heard Golic going off on the choice of Mr. Tony this morning, and it just comes off as that typical jock “he didn’t play the game,” crap that they’ve been clinging to since Jock Jones’ great grandfather invented the strap. I’ve got news for you Mike, the people who know the most about football (and any sport) don’t tend to be the ones who lucked out in the genetic lottery and got to play it for huge amounts of cash. Look around at the parade of dopes who do football analysis on the networks every weekend? For the most part, we put up with them, rather than actually enjoy them.
Deadspin says that Screamin’ A. Smith called Dave Letterman “Jay” last night. This is after all the same steel strap mind that said after the Jets lost a playoff game two years ago that they should have kicked a field goal on third down so that “if they missed it, they could try again on fourth.” He also once asked the “crowd” at his ESPN2 talk show to applaud for a guest because “he loves his momma!”
This Rick Tocchet gambling ring is the only reason I’m even paying attention to hockey right now. It has everything. The feds are involved, so are some New York mobsters, now we’re finding out that the greatest hockey player ever lied when he said he never knew about it, and to top it off, his wife either placed his bets for him, or she is officially the hottest gambling addict…ever!
And all these years I thought that because the March 1987 issue sold well among Canadians and NHL fans, I was big in the Great White North.
Has Mark McGuire every held a news conference that contained good news for Cubs fans?
More proof that Milo Hamilton’s an assclown. After a Cubs-Astros game in Houston this past August, my wife and I waited outside the players exit to catch a glimpse of the Cubs buss. After a long wait, we almost gave up. Then a burgundy 1997 Toyota Camry pulls up near the collection of fans. Inside: Milo Hamilton. He summons a kid over to him and hands him a stack of signed Milo Hamilton trading cards and instructs the kid to hand them out. He pulls away and everyone laughs. I’ve never seen anyone with more of a unecessary ego. Oh, and he’s a freaking terrible, senile announcer.
… is the best nickname for an assclown ever.
As the resident, knuckle-dragging Sox fan, I feel the need to defend Harry. When I was eight or nine, my father lucked into “box” seats at Wrigley for a Cubs/Phils doubleheader. Our “box” was right next door to Harry’s booth. Between games, not only did Harry come over and introduce himself and think us for coming, but he proceeded to order a round of drinks for everyone involved. I think that Andy’s column is right on the money – Harry might have been an occasional assclown to the baseball people, but he sure as hell knew he was delivering his product to. Makes you wonder how the 2004 Cubs would have reacted to his style, when they had problems with Chip of all people.
And that Janet Gretsky picture is hot.
should say “even I feel the need to defend Harry.”
Whoops. Just got the intranets in my trailer.
Milo was a preposterously inept successor to Jack Brickhouse. He is baseball’s answer to the low-wattage shill of college sports – Brent Musberger. All of the emotion he conveyed was contrived. With Brickhouse and Caray, there was never any doubt that the ballpark was the place they would be even if they weren’t broadcasting the game. Hamilton was an even cheaper version of Shelly Levine (“Glegarry Glen Ross”) who cared about baseball like Shelly cared about real estate in Florida.
Milo is the despicable uncle who, when we were 14, gave us a shiny penny, waited for us to admire it, and then mocked our Dads for being cheap dimwits. He has always felt deserving of love, but doesn’t know that you have to give it to get it.
This was the case in 1982, when Milo felt betrayed, not by the Triburne Company, but by fans who derided him, but loved Harry. His issue is with us, but even Milo is smart enough not to think, write, or say that.
After Bob Prince left the Pirates, and Milo rode in on his swaybacked mule to save the day, fans loathed him just as they did in Chicago. Only in a milquetoast baseball city like Houston could fans find tolerance for a minor league talent with soul of bitter bile.
I coined him “Penis de Milo” a couple of years ago in a Desipio post, if I recall.
test
You want to rag on ballplayers, fine. But no dissing Harry. He’s our guy.
Milo always was a little douche anyways. Brickhouse, Milo, Harry, what doesn’t fit in that picture??
Wrigley Field, a sunny summer day, a budweiser, the wind blowing out and Harry Caray!
The Dowdle story is the best one though…what the hell? He was able to discern from Dowdle’s body language that Jim didn’t believe he was sick? Did Dowdle check all the monitors to make sure they were plugged in? Pull out Milo’s IV?
I’ve visited many people in the hospital, and had a stay myself, and one thing that is fairly obvious to me is that other than doctors and nurses, almost nobody really feels comfortable being there.
Dear Heaven (aka Pollyanna):
As opposed to Harry who never forgot the thing of max importance: the fans, you forgot something important, too.
A white flag with a blue “W”.
Anything less and it’s a waste.
Dowdle was the basis for the character of Greg House.
Milo gives us Grumpy old men a bad name. In fact, Milo is a bad name.
What’s wrong with Milo?
The problem with Kornheiser is that not only is he not a former player; he’s not even a broadcaster. He’s also not funny or insightful. He’s a shrill idiot. I probably wouldn’t have watched anyway, but now I definitely won’t.
Do you ever work?
IR 11 is why we make fun of you.
I’m surfing the intranets from ma outhouse!
Also don’t forget about a Sosa homer, hot chicks in skimpy clothing and then the rush to Murphy’s after the game!
dont you write about stories that matter anymore?
Chip you’re a pussy! Milo you’re a first class asshole!
Sorry that gives pussies and first class assholes a bad name. You two are pitiful!
D*cks f*** p***ies…but d*cks also f**** a**holes.
woo woo i’m back woo woo
to let you know woo woo
that milo ain’t worth dog shit woo woo
woo woo and joe morgan too woo woo
Did anyone see what the Nationals offered me? I think my career is over.
I am the number of pages of mindless drivel and homoerotic man-love that are needed to discuss Adam Dunn in any context on NSBB