The Shocking Truth: The Cubs Are Us

The Cubs are people! They’re made out of PEOPLE!!!!  

The Cubs are people, and I don’t mean they are a team comprised of human beings. They are that, but . . . no to the duh. I’m saying the Cubs consist of a litany of metaphors for people just like you or me or that guy who keeps sniffing his fingers on the train. It’s like the Cubs assembled a motley cast of unremarkable human beings and, instead of putting them all in a house for a reality show, they processed, amalgamated, and packaged them into a baseball team.

The Cubs are people. The Cubs are you. If any of these statements don’t apply to you, just look over your shoulder. Somewhere lurking behind you is the statement’s intended recipient.

You don’t like your job, and you dream of finding a better one. But you know tomorrow you’ll be right back in that cubicle. You’re the Cubs. The Cubs are  you.

You’d like a bigger house, but at the end of the day you know what’s really important is the people that make life special. Achieving your wildest dreams would be nice, but enjoying life wherever you are is what counts. You’re the Cubs. The Cubs are you.

You know that sometimes the only way to address your problems is to self-medicate, be the prescription alcohol, narcotics, or donuts. You’re the Cubs. The Cubs are you.


You want to lose weight. But if losing weight means sacrificing the things you enjoy most, you’d rather be fat. You’re the Cubs. The Cubs are you.

You want to get rich. The best way to make that happen, by your judgment, is to play the lottery. Somebody’s gotta win it all, right? Might as well be you! And by you, I mean the Cubs.

You see that person. You’re attracted to him or her. You’d like to go out, get married, grow old together. You imagine it all happening, but it never does. I now pronounce you the Cubs.

You want to learn to play the guitar. You get really good at Rock Band. You’re the Cubs. The Cubs are you.

You have tons of work to do. You spend your time talking about baseball. You’re the Cubs. The Cubs are you. You are me.

You don’t like that person. You’d like to tell him or her off. You think of an excellent rant in your head. You post it anonymously on a message board after telling the true object of your ire to have a nice day. You are the Cubs. The Cubs are you.

You don’t like the current regime that governs over you. You complain about it. You vow to vote for the other person. You’d never in a million years get involved in politics. You expect that eventually things will go your way. You’re the Cubs. The Cubs are you.

You have bad luck, so what’s the point? You’re the Cubs. The Cubs are you.

You are charming. Almost everyone likes you. Too much success would probably just spoil that. I recognize you from somewhere. I think I saw you play at Wrigley yesterday.

Every time the UPS truck drives by your house, you look out eagerly, hoping it will stop at your door. You didn’t order anything. In the event a package does arrive, go ahead and sign as “The Cubs.”

You watch romantic comedies and wonder if your life will ever be that romantic or that funny. Maybe if you’re Jennifer Aniston it will. But you’re not Jennifer Aniston. You’re the Cubs.

You believe in something. Anything. And you know that deep down, that’s enough. And let me tell you . . . you’re right. Especially if what you believe is that you are the Cubs and the Cubs are you.

You never stop hoping, and you never start trying. YTC. TCAY.

You realize this post is overly cynical.
You realize this post is on the money.
You realize this post only begins to scratch the surface.
You’re angry.
You’re laughing.
You’re rolling your eyes.
You. Are. The. Cubs. TheCubsareyou.

You don’t care how stupid it is. It’s a game. It would be nice if they won. It won’t kill you if they don’t. Or maybe it will. Whatever. You know who you are.

I Don’t Have a Topic. Cubs Stuff.

The Cubs have lost more one-run decisions than anyone else in the majors. I guess that means they’re almost really good.

The Cubs are 13-28 (.317) in games decided by one run. They’ve come dangerously close to not losing 28 times.

Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. If baseball were horseshoes, the Cubs would be the champions. If baseball were hand grenades, everyone  would be dead.

The Cubs are 3-9 (.250) against the Pirates. The Pirates are 39-74 (.345). So, if you’re following, the Cubs against the Pirates < the Cubs in 1-run games < the Pirates in general.

Against teams not named the Cubs, the Pirates are 30-71 (.297). That’s almost as bad as the Cubs are against the Pirates, but not quite.

The Cubs playing the Pirates is quite possibly the worst baseball you could ever see played at the Major League level. They should probably be playing hand grenades.

Roy Halladay has a 7.50 ERA against the Cubs this year. Tim Lincecum has a 13.50 ERA against the Cubs this year. Their respective ERAs overall are 2.34 and 3.41. That is weird.

Tony LaRussa will be suspended for two of the Cubs’ upcoming games against the Cardinals. The St. Louis middle infielders will have to remember on their own to start back and charge in when there’s a runner at third.

Darwin Barney’s middle name should be comma.

When athletes who play sports that do not allow fighting get into fights, they should be arrested. When I beat up my coworkers, I’m never granted two days off. They always press charges.

A beer at Wrigley costs seven dollars. That’s outrageous. If they used the same ROI ratio they use to price tickets, seven dollars would only get you a glass of trough juice.

That was gross. I’m sorry. But if this were Wrigley, you’d still owe me $14 for that joke.

Most of the Cubs roster now looks to Starlin Castro for his veteran wisdom.

The Cajun Connection is now split onto opposite sides of baseball’s most heated West Coast rivalry. Their dueling hip-hop albums cannot be far behind.

I’m out of ideas. Now I know how Lou felt in mid-April.