So long, suckers.
The Cubs are finished. Done for. Lonely outcasts dragging tail and disappearing into the sunset.
It seems they aren’t much as deal makers, either.
Win, no.
Capitulate, yes.
By trading ace Yu Darvish to the Padres, they’ve thrown in the towel. They’ve waved the white flag, and not the kind with a big, blue, beautiful “W” on it. They’ve closed the winning window, latched it and boarded it up.
Hey, isn’t this fun?
No, it isn’t. How sad, truly. It’s always sad when a great team is pulled apart, and the Cubs did indeed touch greatness. It didn’t last. They didn’t maintain it to the extent many of us believed they would. They touched it, though, drank it in, luxuriated in it, and it was quite something for the rest of us to behold. But these things don’t end well — ever — and the Cubs of Theo Epstein, who is gone, and Joe Maddon, who is gone, and Darvish, who is gone, are no exception.
This thing ended pathetically.
As far as the players the Cubs received for Darvish and catcher Victor Caratini — veteran starter Zach Davies and prospects Reginald Preciado, Yeison Santana, Owen Caissie and Ismael Mena? I don’t know them from the holes in my pandemic sweatpants. But I did a little clicking around, as one does at a time like this, and saw one outlet deem the Cubs’ haul “shockingly light,” another call it “hysterically funny” and another claim it “makes no sense.”
Otherwise known as time to stop reading and make a sandwich.
Did new Cubs president Jed Hoyer get fleeced? What will he get for catcher Willson Contreras — the next big chip rumored to go — a pocketful of lint and a hearty thank-you? Is the salary-dumping Ricketts family really so over a barrel financially that their Christmas stockings were stuffed with $50s, not $100s? Will curling up into the fetal position be worked on along with fielding and base running at spring training?
So many unpleasant questions. The Cubs and their fans suddenly face more of them than Darvish has types of pitches in his one-of-a-kind arsenal. Remember “the Supreme,” whatever the heck that pitch was? Or is, actually. San Diegans get to marvel at it now.
The Padres, who also traded for Rays ace Blake Snell, are fully in go-for-the-jugular mode. If the champion Dodgers aren’t quaking in their cleats, they’re certainly well aware of the serious and credible threat coming from a bit over 100 miles down the coast. It’s got to be scarier and more concerning than the threat coming from Wrigley Field the last two or three seasons.
Once, the Cubs were on top. Then, the Dodgers overtook them. The Cubs tried to keep climbing, but a few other teams stepped on their heads on the way up. And now, the Cubs are falling.
That’s pretty much how these things work.
Some will reach for the romance of it all. As in, the Cubs have returned to their natural, “lovable losers” state. We get to say “Wait ’til next year!” again. We can die with smiles on our faces because a 108-year drought ended, a curse was lifted, the magically unthinkable happened and so on.
But some are too easily charmed, aren’t they?
The mega-market Cubs are back to playing organizational small ball, and that’s putting it nicely. They’re pulling themselves apart. They’re disappearing before our eyes.
It’s sad. It’s pathetic. It’s over.
JUST SAYIN’
How ’bout those White Sox?
No, really.
One wonders how many card-carrying Cubs fans find themselves warming to the other team in town. Perhaps you’ve heard whispers along those lines from a couple of your buddies. Maybe your Aunt Dotty isn’t ripping the South Siders with the usual bite as she nears the bottom of her nightly Rob Roy. Could be you’re doing a bit of warming yourself.
Look, just admit it already.
• Quick show of hands: Who has the Bears beating the Packers on Sunday?
Well, that’s not very encouraging.
Yes, Aunt Dotty, we see you in the back. Put your hand down before you spill your drink.
• Packers 34, Bears 13. Rams 24, Cardinals 21 (OT). Bears stumble into a wild-card spot. A city rejoices. Angels sing. Wait, that playoff game might not go very well at all.
And print it.
• Did I miss a memo or a new law stating that every good new athlete who comes along must be characterized in the media as a “generational talent”?
Certain words and phrases have a way of oozing into the sports lexicon, which is fine, but this “generational” business must stop. If you tell me Bubba is a generational tackle, then you’d better not tell me Tiny, Cletus and half a dozen other guys are generational tackles, too. That’s not just bad writing. That’s bad thinking.
• Here’s to a full and speedy recovery by Blackhawks captain Jonathan Toews, who will not be with the team at training camp as he focuses on an undisclosed medical issue.
We’ll leave the light on for him.
