The Art of War: Chicago Style

Well, a third team, in 3 series's, has now clinched the playoffs and/or division against the Chicago Cubs.  Take your medicine boys. Take your medicine.  It's good for you.  You must stare into the face of the people that wrong you, and desensitize yourself, in order to overcome the adversity before you.  I liken this clinch fest to when I would stare at photo's of my ex wife and I together in happier times, in order to not have a knee jerk emotional reaction every time I caught a passing glimpse of her.  You gotta get angry, and you gotta get tough to get yourself through the tough times.  Steel your soul.  Look at these champion teams.  Really look at them.  Look them right in their champagne soaked begoggled eyes.  The fools!  

Watch them jumping up and down, like teenage girls with Bieber fever, on the mound at your ballpark!

Study your enemy closely Cubbies.  You should be seething with envy and hatred at your adversary. Read the Art of War by Lao Tzu.  Study the brutal tactics of Ghengis Khan and the Mongols, who slaughtered Central Asia, just as the Cubs must slaughter the National League Central.  Every Cub needs to find their inner Grizzly Bear during this off season.  Hang pictures of the 3 teams who beat you this last week all over your house until you are enveloped with vengeful thoughts.  Every day, you will be motivated to get meaner, stronger, more focused.  You must make your heart cold.  Full of hate.  Your mind electric.  And your soul bitter with envy.  Yes!  Do this Chicago Cubs!!

Oh, and would it kill you to take a little batting practice too?  Maybe hit the fall and winter league's?

Last night was just embarrassing.

Because next year.....

I still can't watch this without crying....

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Last Days at Wrigley 2013

Baseballwise, the best thing that happened to the Cubs in this final home series against the Pirates, was to avoid being swept on Wednesday.  But regardless of the elimination (around May in reality) of the Cubs, and any hopes of a miraculous playoff run, there was of course still great fun to be had at the Wrigley.  6 dollar tickets, final Old Style beers, and meeting internet friends in person seemed to be the order of the final days and nights at the nearly century old ballpark.  

Monday night, I spent the evening sitting next to some Pirate fans, who, I guess I'm rooting for this year.  Even though their long suffering fanbase hasn't really shown up until now, any team with 20 straight years of losing baseball, is worthy of a cheer or two from my mouth.  Behind me sat a Mexican contractor and some of his team (possibly family), sitting with a young white man supplier, who to my ears, had the accent of a first generation American.  They did drunken business all night, discussing materials, costs, and a bit of gossip over numerous cervezas and a little baseball watching.  That game was 1-0 Pirates, and one of the quickest games of the year.  I didn't even go out to smoke until the 6th!

Let's go Bucs?  Sure.  Why not....

The first time the older gentlemen came to Wrigley was in the 1960's.  According to legend, he took a train with a buddy of his from Central Illinois, but was too drunk at the time to remember much of his experience.  He fondly recalled Cubs players from the time like Glenn Beckert and Randy Hundley, in addition to your Ernie Banks's and Billy Williams's.  Remember when the Cubs had stars on the team?They were nice people, and I hope they are still cheering the Bucs deep into October.  Anyone but the Cardinals!

Unfortunately for the Cubs, even the closed circuit TV system has given up on our Cubbies!

Tuesday, I was able to meet up with a Twitter friend Josh, @jmorg17, and his buddy Ryan.  I had seats up in the balcony, but sat with these guys for 4 or 5 innings behind a pole.  

These guys were huge fans, but I still managed to win a dollar off of Ryan by betting him the skyboxes were full operational in the 80's not the 70's.  My sister and I used to run from wherever our seats were to watch Harry Caray moving from the TV booth to radio and back after the 3rd and before the 6th innings, from high up in Terrace Reserved.  Thats was before the skyboxes, and it was definitely the mid 80's.  Either way, I ended up a dollar richer.  The answer was 1989.  I barely squeaked out the victory.

Tuesday night was also my last Old Style at Wrigley, unless of course the online petition works out for them.  You can sign it here if you care.  Old Style is a crappy beer, but it's our crappy beer.  And you know what?  All the beers at Wrigley are relatively crappy.  Major brand beers like Becks and Dos Equis don't even serve up their signature brands, with Dos Equis being the Lager, not their regular brew, and Becks is called Sapphire, which has a malt liquor flavor to it.  The Sapphire is your highest alcohol content for the money, topping 6%, just in case you were looking to get sloppy.  Don't even get me started on Bud and Bud lite.  These beers don't give much of a buzz at all, unless you count diarrhea as a buzz.  

But of course the Rickett's family in their infinite quest for cash had to go with the highest bidder.  I'm fine with it all if they spend money on the team, but that doesn't seem to be their plan.  It's all about savings and trying to make a team work without spending the money.  That's what Money Ball's all about!  I'm doubtful that approach will work in Chicago no matter what kind of beer we're drinking.  Not holding my breath, but hoping the concessions are upgraded next year, especially the beer selection.  There are so many delicious micro brews in the area, couldn't there be one stand somewhere with some Belgian beers like Duvel or how about a Sierra Nevada, or even a real Becks Pilsner!  Additionally, the only food worth eating is the Stanley Burger, the Chicago Dog, and Uncle Dougies pulled pork.  Unfortunately, save the Chicago Dog, you really have to go searching for the other two sandwiches.  

The food and beer at Wrigley are crap.  They could do better, but the almighty dollar speaks louder than the all mighty taste bud.

My final day at Wrigley started with a Champagne brunch with some actor friends from Trapdoor Theatre, at my apartment, a mile north of the ballpark.  I made breakfast burrito's for everyone and we walked down to the bleachers on what proved to be a beautiful day for all of us, including the Cubs who won the game 4-2 on a surprise Darnell McDonald 3 run homer.  I met up with the guy who sold me  his season tickets on Sunday, a Bostonian named Adam Polegreen, and his son, who had a sack full of balls, some of them signed, attained during batting practice.  Adam's a super nice guy, and he loves his Cubbies, and his Red Sox.  I wish I liked another team that was any good, but unfortunately my other adopted team from nearly two decades of living in NYC, is the Mets.  Hell, I could never be a Yankee fan!  

Unfortunately, I was drinking my last crappy Old Style the night before, as the bleachers ran out of the stuff.  In fact, premium beer after premium beer ran out as the game went on.  I drank Pabst.  It was the perfect day for it all.  A great way to end out my season at the shrine, but somehow, whoever runs the sound at Wrigley managed to louse up Go Cubs Go.  Is this a harbinger of doom for next year?  Or just the final series in St. Louis.  Or as Pat Hughes annoyingly says...."St. Lou".

Listen at 2:20.

As a musician, producer, and engineer, the sound at Wrigley has been run horribly this year.  Feedback, Weird Gary Pressey organ rhythms, and inconsistent volumes throughout the game have me thinking someone's stupid nephew got the job, and not a professional.  This final screw up is just icing on a bad cake.  Maybe it's all on purpose, to have us all accept thundering scoreboard sounds as an upgrade from the mediocre sonic vision that currently flatly falls on the patrons ears of the Friendly Confines.

Well, 3 more games, then the long dark winter.  Makin me feel like this...

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A Cubs Fan Craigslist Story

Well folks, as my first season as a Cubs blogger winds down, I celebrate my 100th post.  Luckily, this year, unlike 2012, the Cubs won't be lamenting their 100th loss.  With only 6 more games left to play, the worst we could do is lose 97.  While this has been a disappointing season for all of us Cubs' fans, and many of the Cubs players, it hasn't been without its small personal victories.  Even yesterday, the Braves division clinching celebration was slightly muted given that they clinched in the 6th inning when the Nationals lost to the lowly Marlins.  The Braves did manage to celebrate, but it wasn't the same as if the moment coincided with a 3rd Cub out.  

The Braves anticlimactic celebration in the shadowed gloaming of Wrigley Field.

Yes, small victory indeed. 

But being a Cubs fan isn't about winning.  That much is obvious.  It's about community.

Yesterday, I bought a 20$ Craigslist bleacher ticket from a season ticket holder named Adam Polegreen.  He lives in Boston, but is completely enamored with Wrigley Field and brings his son to Chicago as much as possible.  On the tickets he doesn't have opportunity to use, he takes a bath on the face value.  My thriftiness doesn't help the matter either, nor does he Cubs mediocre performance this year which has me paying under 10$ average on all games.  

Anyway, I didn't bite at the 28$ Stubhub ticket, and bought on Craigstlist.  Given that every time I mess around with Craigslist I am invited by some Ghanian missionary to transfer 100,000 dollars to my bank account in an effort to separate me from my own dwindling funds, I was skeptical as to the validity of the Bleacher ticket.  But after texting with Mr. Polegreen, I was reassured that my ticket would be valid, or at least this thief only got 20$ and went to great lengths in acting the part of a diehard Cub's fan.  

Cubs' fans all over the world might appreciate our text exchange...so here it is....

All texted like true Cubs' fans.  

Even though we lost the game, and I had to deal with drunken screaming Braves' fan girls who kept urging each other to flash Evan Gattis, who was playing Left Field yesterday....(apparently they were flashing the rooftops earlier), I had a great time sitting in the sun watching baseball.

Stay Classy Atlanta.

So thank you for the ticket Mr. Polegreen.  Whether the Cubs win or lose.  Wrigley Field truly is a worthy addiction.

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A Wrigley Field Guide to a Braves Celebration

Given that the Braves were beaten yesterday by the Cubs, and the Nationals were rained out, the Braves fans who traveled to Chicago to witness an on field celebration by their beloved team, will have to hold off their tomahawk chopping at least until today if they win, or tonight if the Nationals lose. 

 Much ado has been made about the Dodgers recent "pool party" celebration in Arizona.  Even presidential campaign loser and professional grumpy old man, Senator John McCain waded into the critical waters by tweeting....

  

If the Braves win today, how can they top the Dodger celebration at Wrigley?  The Budweiser Russian Baths won't be ready until after the revenue generating pedestrian mall and scoreboard are fully operational.  But there are ways the Braves can be just as disrespectful to our home park, and as a Chicagoan and Wrigley Field enthusiast, I have a few suggestions.

1.  Ride goats around the outfield in a victory lap.  Allowing the goats to stop and nibble on our beloved ivy.  

2.  Hit home runs to each other, and keep the ball.

3.  Put ketchup on their victory hot dogs.

4.  Sing root root root for the White Sox during the 7th inning stretch.

5.  Eat NY Style slices off of home plate.

6.  Install electronics in our beloved manually operated scoreboard.

7.  Cover our beloved Harry Caray statue in snow, reminding Chicagoans what a hard, cold winter we have ahead of us.

8.  Buy a rooftop on Waveland and let the fans in free. (17% of 0 is 0)

(This is the sign that's up there now, I took this pic yesterday....ugh)

9.  Let Greg Maddux pitch the 9th against us for the save.

10.  Install seat backs on the bleachers.

Of course, I hope the Braves lose today.  In fact, I always hope the Braves lose unless they're playing the Cardinals.  

Being the helpful Cubs' fans you are, I'm sure you have plenty more suggestions. Let's hear em!

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In Defense of Kevin Gregg (Or Why I Hate Yuppies)

It's a little tough for me to defend Kevin Gregg after sitting in Wrigley Field during the 9th inning and watching him blow the game by giving up 4 runs to the cocky Braves, who's racist fans were tomahawk chopping their way to yet another successful year.  Sure, I guess it's Gregg's fault we lost the game yesterday, but he's been infinitely better than any of us would have imagined when we heard he was signed off the scrap heap in April.  He's notched 32 saves and, until yesterday, had a sub 3 ERA.  These stats for a last place team, that often times puts him into the game in "non-save" situations, such as yesterday's tie game.  This year, he's taken the ball professionally, and not only saved half our wins, even though he didn't even join the team until the 3rd week of the season, and he "saved" us from  watching a year of Marmol meltdowns and closer by committee.  

Now to call what Gregg said yesterday a "rant" or a "blast" of Cubs management is overstating the matter considerably.  All he said was that after a conversation with Dale Sveum a few days ago, Gregg felt he was out as closer, and not part of the Cubs' future plans.  Apparently they want to try out Strop in the closers role.  The worst thing Gregg said was "I expected to be treated a little bit better than this. They can treat their players how they want. Unfortunately we are under their control. It is not necessarily how I would have done it, but they have to do things the way they want it."  He said this all calmly and articulately, and seemed only disappointed in managements decision to "move forward" or "go in a different direction".  He wasn't angry or shouting.  This was by no means a rant.  

Anyone that's ever heard the Dale Sveum show with Keith Moreland pre game on WGN, knows that Dale is not the most articulate man on the planet.  He may have a decent baseball brain, (though you'd be hard pressed to find an example demonstrating that over the last two seasons), but listening to Keith and Dale talk reminds me of Hank Hill and his cronies leaning up against a pickup talking about propane in Fox's King of the Hill.  Dale says "ya know", and much as Lou Piniella said "Look" during press conferences.  *On a side note, if I hear Keith say "innersting" one more time, I may just jump out onto the field dressed as Morganna the Kissing bandit at the final home game, having been driven mad by his poor diction.  (sorry, needed to get that off my chest).  

Dale has a knack for stating the obvious, like if Rizzo strikes out with the bases loaded and 1 out, Dale will say something like, "well, we've got to get better in those situations".  Duh!!!  You can barely hear him at his press conferences because he mumbles, and his general Hokey-Do "Aww shucks" demeanor may keep the clubhouse calm, but it certainly doesn't result in an aura of success, or confidence that this is the mastermind who will "win it all" for the long suffering Cubs' fans.  Nor, do I think Dale is a particularly impactful man, given that Robin Yount once mistook him for a duck and shot him in the head.

Given Gregg's post "rant" apology, where Dale and Theo explained the situation more clearly to him, it becomes obvious that the "situation" was not explained to Gregg well in the first place.  In other words, Dale Sveum led Kevin Gregg to believe that he was not a part of the Cubs organization's plans, even though he had a really good comeback year.  This is probably true, and perfectly fine with me, but why this couldn't wait until after the season is beyond me.  When you define a guys job as "closer" and then take it away from him, thus diminishing his value both as a free agent and from a personal human standpoint, well, don't be surprised when there's a bit of blowback.  And it was just a bit.  Imagine your boss coming up to you and saying, listen, you've been great, but you're fired, and only 9 days before vacation!  Add to that, Sveum's mumbling, unmasterful command of the English language, and you've got yourself a misunderstanding!

Now Theo Epstein, who reportedly was hopping mad after learning of Gregg's "tirade", immediately called Gregg and Sveum together for a meeting, at which Gregg was "scared straight" into toeing the company line.  Gregg ran to to the press room and immediately apologized publicly for his comments.  Epstein is young and successful, or at least he was successful until he came to Chicago.  He's the kind of guy I'd probably dislike if I met him because he thinks he's so damned smart.  He just looks like a wall street hot shot who got rich on a penny stock once and now thinks he's Warren Buffet.  My punk rock heritage has carried me into midlife with a healthy skepticism and "Die Yuppie Scum" still lingering on the tip of my tongue, so take what I say with a grain of salt.  

Of course I hope the new "Cubs Way" results in a championship for the Northsiders, but I am not one of the faithful who will drink the Kool-aid until I see results on the field.  No player does or should play this game in order for the front office to get higher draft picks.  And though the Cubs farm system definitely seems juiced after dumping every player anybodies ever heard of by the trade deadline, I need to see at least a .500 season before I can declare the "Boy Wonder" Epstein anything but a guy who happened to catch the timing right in Boston.  "The Cubs Way" has ruined Starlin Castro's natural talent, signed the weak hitting Rizzo until the end of the decade, and called Jeff Samar249ry2ifu their ace, despite an 8-12 record and a 4.42 ERA.  Yes, the core of the "2016 World Champion Chicago Cubs" seems to be lacking in well....a core....

This situation with Kevin Gregg reinforces my perception that Theo is nothing more than a sniveling rich kid who can't be criticized by his underlings with out getting his underpants in a knot.  He wasn't even criticized!  Or at least barely criticized.  Gregg only said he wished the situation had been handled better.  But Theo immediately knee jerked and talked about releasing Gregg, just to prove a point.  What point is that?  Obviously, it's I own you, and if you say anything against me, no matter how trifling, you're out.  Epstein can't even muster the same respect he demands of his players, publicly musing about the fate of Kevin Gregg's job, while Gregg himself must stay quiet and run "tail between legs" back to the press in order to save his own hide.  I find Theo's actions even less professional than Gregg's!   Theo said he'd "sleep on it" as to whether Gregg would face disciplinary action.  So great!  If Gregg IS still on the team this afternoon, and not DFA'd, he will have to do it without any sleep.  Not that he would have slept anyway given his horrible performance yesterday.  But to have this yuppie wonderboy "sleeping on it" (on a 25,000 canopy sleigh bed no doubt) as to whether you have a job tomorrow is indicative as to the cultural stranglehold Epstein hopes to have over this organization.  Who does he think he is?  George Steinbrenner?  In other Epstein news, the press has been a a titter this week about the future of Dale Sveum, which Theo telegraphed at least an indifference to Dale's performance and future as the Cubs' manager, then quickly backtracked in order to instill confidence in the manager who has led us to two basement finishes.  As I see it, Mr Loose Lips Epstein is demanding something of his players he can't even do himself.  That is the definition of poor management.

I don't pretend to know what goes on behind closed doors.  It's easy to forget that these are human beings with real emotions, goals, and dreams.  I'm certain Kevin Gregg felt as if he was being demoted, and it hurt his feelings.  He blamed his performance yesterday on it, and I'm not sure he's wrong.  Team culture is hard to put your finger on, and it seems the best teams have a healthy mix of stars, vets, and hotshot rookies.  The Cubs currently have none of those elements.  The best thing I've seen Theo and company do, besides beef up the minor league teams, is get good production out of a platooned third base position, and successfully pick up "watchable" players off of the Major League scrap heap.  I personally don't think an inexperienced and inarticulate manager is the answer for inexperienced players.  But who am I but a knowledgeable fan at best? If Gregg didn't understand the situation, that's on Sveum.  He's the manager. And as far as Theo goes, practice what you preach.  In sports you're only as good as the last thing you did, and the last thing the Cubs are going to do this year, is play two teams who are going to clinch the playoffs against them.  The Braves, likely today or tomorrow, and The Cardinals in the last series of the season.  It's been a frustrating year for Cubs' fans, to state the obvious, and it's going to to be a long, cold, dark off-season in Chicago.  Unfortunately for Kevin Gregg, the off season might have just gotten a little longer and darker.  

Update: Kevin Gregg on the team until next Sunday.  Guess Scrooge McDuck got the Christmas spirit....

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The Sordid Travels of a Cubs Fan- Milwaukee

The first time I ever saw a baseball game in Milwaukee was on August 9th, 1988.  Also the date of the first "official" night game at Wrigley Field.  I was 14 years old, and my friend Jarrett Gable had traveled with my mother and I, an ex-nun, who lived as Sister Velma in Milwaukee for a decade teaching,  cloistered in a convent.  She was to attend some convention, or a nun reunion or something that I don't remember, and Jarrett and I were given our own room at the convent,  and total 14 year old freedom while my Mom did ex-nun stuff all day.  

The game was actually 'games', because the Brewers, at the time, members of the AL East, played a double header against the Boston Red Sox.  I remember little about the games except that Jarrett called the Red Sox catcher in game 1, Rick Cer-on-ey, while his name is actually Cer-one.  We made up a song about him to the tune of Mony Mony.  "Here he comes now, it's Rick Ceroney, coming round third and heading homey!" are the only lyrics I recall.  Also, hilariously, in the cheap seats where we were sitting, there was one step right next to us that must have been a little higher than the other, because we watched people fall all day and into the night on this step, and by the end of the double dip, there were nachos, popcorn, spilled beer and soda all over our general vicinity.  Of course, we warned no one as to the oblong step, and laughed and laughed as fan after fan fell over, spilling their overpriced concessions all over our section.  I'd probably do the same today, not warn anyone, as I believe my sense of humor stopped developing around the end of junior high.  

The thing I remember most about that night though, was when the game let out, we waited for a bus that never came, and after all the fans were gone, we were just standing there with only bus fare, and there wasn't a phone in my mom's convent room to call for help anyway.  So we started walking.  I have no idea how far our "convent room" was, but it took a couple of hours to walk it, and people kept warning us on the streets that "two white boys" didn't belong there.  This was probably true, but being 14 years old, free and fearless, was exciting and new.  Of course when we finally got back, my Mom was in our room worried sick, but bid us goodnight, and headed straight back to her room to sleep.  Jarrett and I made ourselves Bologna and Musturd sandwiches and went to sleep ourselves, having spent the greatest day ever in our short lives, with one of our first tastes of freedom before Freshman year of high school.  Of course, it could have all gone horribly wrong.  Jeffery Dahmer could have killed and eaten us!  He might have killed and eaten us that very night!  Instead, it was thrilling.  

So what would I find there if I went back?  To a new stadium built in the parking lot of the old.  Could I recapture that feeling  of freedom 25 years later? Well, in June of this year, I drove up to Milwaukee to find out.  

Most people reading this know that Milwaukee is close to Chicago distance wise, but most Chicagoans simply view Milwaukee as an afterthought.  Beer, Laverne and Shirley, Dahmer, The Brewers, and Cheeseheads.  Chicagoans look down on Milwaukeeans as if they are our backwater cousins, unrefined and uncultured.  Our drunken blue collar northern neighbors.  In many respects, our prejudices are based on stereotypes, and like most stereotypes, they come from an element of truth, but that of course is not the only story to be told.   Don't take my word for it.  Here are some local Wisconsinites acting out the scene from Waynes World where Alice Cooper explains the origins of Milwaukee.

Yes, bad acting, little charm, but flagrantly honest in it's approach.  They are realistic in their lack of talent.  Why try to look good, or be good, when you'll look like a fool and probably fail anyway?  Is that what Milwaukeeans are?  Failures? Chicago rejects?  Never able to make it in a bigger city?  That's certainly the attitude of many Chicagoans have, but I don't know.... All big cities have a little brother we pick on.  New York has Philly and Boston.  New Jersey is NYC's national joke!  Minneapolis has St. Paul, Los Angeles has the Valley.  And Chicago has Milwaukee.  The Cheeseheads.  Which strangely enough is where the word Yankees comes from.  The Dutch, which owned Manhattan at the time called the English Jan Kaas.  Or John Cheese.  Or Cheese Heads.  The British turned around and called the Colonists, "Yankees" as they didn't understand the dutch accent.  It's all the same thing, and "cheesehead" has probably been used as a slur for the dummies that "live over there", since cheese was invented!

Let's find out who these cheeseheads really are.  My plan of action?  Become one of them.  Live like they do in their natural habitat.  Find out what makes em tick from the insiders perspective.  

So with a plan and a 7-11 coffee, I was off!

Just over the Wisconsin border, in Pleasant Prairie, WI, easily reachable in under an hour from Wrigley Field, I saw a sign for the Jelly Belly factory tour.  Always up for a quirky road side attraction, and a fan of the multi flavored beans, I decided to make the stop and see how the confections were conceived and manufactured.  The tour is free, and after taking it, I know why...

This is the only "illegal" shot I got on the tour as they don't allow pictures.  Why?!  Beats me.  Because it's not a factory at all, but rather, a warehouse.  You basically ride around on this stupid train in a dumb looking paper hat, and look at candy stacked on shelves, while they show you how Jelly Bellies and Caramel Corn are made on videos that you could watch on Youtube or the company site.  There are also crappy little figurine scenes on the side that look like a ghetto mall's Easter Bunny setup.  Complete with fake grass, little picket fences and stuffed animals.  And of course, inflatable Jelly Belly characters hanging from the ceiling.  What it all has to do with Jelly Bellies is beyond me, and it's pretty lame.  But I guess you can't complain too much when you didn't pay, and they give you free Jelly Beans at the end.  But so far, so bad Wisconsin!  You haven't shown me anything that would dispel the rumor that you're a bunch of cheeseheads with this unimaginative tour.  On the plus side, I bought a giant bag of "Belly Flops", which are rejected, irregularly shaped Jelly Bellies, and some "Bean Boozled" beans which have flavors such as vomit, diaper, and worm, to play tricks on my sister's kids.  Hey, I said earlier my sense of humor stopped developing at 14.  

Yes, George Bush is made of Jelly Bellies!  In real life too I think....

I don't like the looks of that guy.....

Chicago in da Hizzy!!!

I bought one bag.  I live alone people.

One place I didn't expect to be today.

Sugared up and ready to roll, I hopped back into my untrustworthy 2005 VW Beetle convertible, and before I knew it, I was in NW Milwaukee at the La Quinta Inn.  Note to all reading this.  Don't stay here if you want to go to a Brewers game, drink, and get the free shuttle.  It's farther than it looks on a map, and you're going to have to drive.  Much better for a drunk, but more expensive to stay near the ballpark, or up on Bluemound rd., where Bar/Restaurants like Kelly's Bleachers or Burkes Irish Castle will take you to and from the game just like a real live drunk Milwaukeean.  I would suggest the Ramada or the Best Western Woods View Inn.

Unfortunately, it was LaQuinta and a 20 minute drive for me.  No drinking.  At least not to excess as I like to do at ballgames.  Good thing my buddy Loren was coming up for game 2 and could drive my drunk butt around.  After what happened to me in St. Louis, it probably would be best to not get drunk on my first night anyway.  You can read all about that "sordid travel" at the link above.  

Time to transform myself!!

Here's me.

Before the mustache became hipster sheik, it was worn throughout the 1980's as a symbol of sexiness.  Keith Hernandez, Burt Reynolds, and of course, ex Brewer and Current Cub manager, ours truly, Dale Sveum, donned the lip carpet unforgettably on baseball cards and promo photos.

My plan?  To split the difference between a Cub and Brewer  and try for Dale Sveum's late 80's look.

Unfortunately, I ended up looking more like Gorman Thomas than svelte Dale.

Gorman.

Dale.

You decide.

OK. Step 1 complete.  Unironic midwest mustache.  Check.  Eat your heart out hipsters.  This is what authenticity looks like when you're faking it!  Now to find a Brewers shirt for the game tonight.  Now, there's no way I'm going to pay full price for an opposing team's shirt, so I headed off to the local thrift store, which just happened to be a thrift store benefiting the American Council for the Blind.  Judging by the "fashion" items donated, I would say this is a perfect place for a blind person to shop.  After bypassing a 4XL Zach Greinke jersey, I settled on a George Webb promotional shirt that says, "George Webb, the only one who predicts our Brewers will win 12 straight games".  Apparently, George Webb is a local restauranteur, known for his crazy slogans such as "Free Rabbit Lunch Tomorrow" and "Pay 10$ for 1893 Pennies".  Webb's Brewers slogan is equally nonsensical, as they currently battle our Chicago Cubs for the basement of the NL Central.  Even with suspended Ryan Braun's steroid infused brawn, the Brewers couldn't win for 2 weeks straight in AA ball, let alone the majors.  Unfortunately, neither could this year's Cubs team.

Stay off the road!  Blind truck drivers!

Boy.  All that sitting on the phone and apologizing to fans has really not been good for Ryan Braun's physique.  Shoulda stuck with the juice.

And now, off to the local mall for a hat!  

Am I the only one that thinks this mall kinda looks like Miller Park?

I walked into the local Lids which was running a sale.  Buy one Get One Half Off.  So, I bought an authentic On-Field Cub's hat at full price, which I've been eyeing for a while, and a Brewers Visor.  I figured a visor would be more, I don't know, lame.  And yes.  That's a judgment I'm making on who I believe Milwaukeans to be, based upon my limited, and highly prejudiced knowledge.  But a chance at wearing a lame visor AND a lame mustache?!  Yes Please!

Ball game time!

What better place to park my car for a Brewers/Cubs game than at the cemetery?  

Across the street from the cemetary, stands Burkes Irish Castle.  A pregaming Brewer's bar.  There are a ton of em on this strip off of Bluemound Road, the most famous being Kelly's Bleachers.  They all have free shuttles to and from the game, there is a parking lot (if you buy something), and street parking otherwise.  Being a Tuesday night, and a meaningless ballgame standings-wise, even for June, the Burkes' crowd was subdued.  I saddled myself up to the bar, next to some weirdo who kept talking to himself, and ordered a local adult beverage.  While perusing the menu, my hungry eyes stopped at the corned beef covered cheese fries.  9$.  I assumed they were for sharing, so I asked the bartender if they would do a half order for me?  Success!!

Staring in disbelief at the giant size of this "half order", I exclaimed sarcastically "THIS is a half order?!"  The bartender looked confused, said "Yes" and walked away. About a minute later, the manager came up to me while I stuffed my face full of salty beef, and fried, cheese covered potatoes and asked me if I had a problem with my order.  I said "No, everything's great!". He said, "Oh, well the bartender thought you might have had a problem with it."  I said, "My only problem with it, is that it's too big, and I couldn't believe this was just a half order!".  He shrugged and walked away.  Lesson learned.  Milwaukee is a friendly, but completely unsarcastic place.  Expect to be taken at your word.  I guess it's kinda like the mustache thing.  In Bucktown, Chicago you look like a hipster in a stache, but in Milwaukee you look stuck in the 80's.  Same mustache, completely different style.

Don't they know that's racist against the Irish?  

The Brewer's look...especially the beer prop.

 Miller Park is one of those newer retractable roof stadiums, built in 2001.  I applaud them for having grass, a better beer selection than Wrigley, a plethora of different sausages to choose from, and fried cheese curds.  But it misses the mark in many ways too.  I find it dark inside.  Concrete.  Municiple. And though a nice looking structure from the outside.  It lacks charm on the inside.  There's a playground for the kids, a slide for Bernie The Brewer to slide down after home runs, and the organist basically plays the entire time.  It'll be the first inning, a 2 and 1 count, and the damned organist is playing the Mexican Hat Dance for no apparent reason!  At least, when they play the Violent Femmes "Blister in the Sun" riff, they get the "clap" rhythm correct, unlike the Cubs' Gary Pressey who rushes the rhythm.  Hey, I'm a musician!  I notice these things!

Awesomely enough, they were handing out Aoki heads for some bank promotion.  Had a fair amount of fun with the thing, until it ended up here...

Now, after the novelty of pretending to be a Brewers fan had worn off, I was just bored.  I couldn't really drink because I had booked a distant hotel, and now I'm just here in Miller Park looking like a cross between Dale Sveum and Gorman Thomas.  I don't know what I expected to happen, but I was hoping for a little more action than this, and that's when I saw him.  The Rally Banana.  A section away from me, I see this heavyset young man in a banana costume.  Now THIS is why I came to Milwaukee!  I followed him towards the concourse.  I would have followed that banana to hell and back, but luckily, he just was going to the bathroom.

After snapping this glorious shot.  Possibly the best picture I've taken all year.  I felt like the banana was on to me watching him, and when he zipped up and turned around, I felt the need to say something.  I'm sure I said something idiotic, but the banana didn't care and being a good natured banana, posed for a couple of bathroom shots as well.  I've done a lot of crazy things in my life, and met a ton of eccentrically unique people over the years, but I have never taken a picture of a man in a banana costume peeing before.  This was even a first for me!

Turns out his name's Teddy.  He attends as many Brewer's home games as possible, and he is the unofficial Brewers mascot, and might I add a ton more fun than the silent and aloof Bernie the Brewer.  We were fast friends, and he obliged me for an interview.  Keep in mind, he thought I was a Brewers fan the entire time.

  

After a few beers, I let slip that I was actually a Cubs fan undercover in Brewers gear.  I figured a fellow showman would appreciate my antics.  We were both costumed for the evening after all. But he seemed disappointed.  I had forgotten the whole "sarcasm unappreciated" thing so quickly.  I did continue to root for the Brewers out loud, and the Cubs secretly in my brain, and it was a good thing too.  The Brewers won 9-3.

After a pleasantly sober sleep at La Quinta Inn, I decided to don the costume once again and do a little sightseeing.  

And what better place to go undercover than a spy themed restaurant?

When you enter International Exports, AKA "The Safe House", there is no discernible way to actually enter the dining area.  You press some button in the foyer, and a voice comes through a speaker and asks you for the password.  I didn't know the password of course, so I guessed incorrectly 3 times until they made me hop around like a bunny to gain entry.  Of course you're on camera the entire time, and anyone sitting at the bar can watch you do what ever embarrassing action they demand of you.  It's a great joke.  It was a super fun time watching other patrons dance and hop their way into the restaurant on closed circuit TV.  

The bartender was a big friendly character. The food inexpensive for a theme restaurant, and after I told the guy I was writing a blog, which I always do in hopes of getting a free beer, he took me on a tour of the place.

This poster hangs in the women's bathroom.  If a woman dares lift the heart, sirens go off alerting everyone that there's a pervert in the ladies john.  Also hilarious.  

The history of the place is that in the 60's, this lawyer who loved detective themed TV shows and movies, decided to open a spy restaurant and do that instead.  There are secret tables, and the worlds' largest mechanical puzzle (whatever that means), and next door is the Milwaukee Press Club, which is full of famous people's autographs.  The Press Club was closed, but the bartender took me in there anyway.  See, being a blogger does have its privileges!

Hank Aaron, among sooooo many others....

Not too far from there is "The Fonz" statue.  Boring, but worth a look just to say you've been there.

What was I to make of all this?  I'm undercover as a Brewers' fan, eating at spy restaurants, and hanging out with banana's trying to recapture some nebulous freedom I felt 25 years ago.  I needed a break.  So, where can a manic drunk find a good time on a Wednesday afternoon?  The Casino!!!

Most "manufacturing decimated" midwestern cities have invested in revenue generating vice as a way to balance the books.  Milwaukee is no exception.  Potawatomi Bingo Casino is right downtown, I'd been there before on a weekend, and found it expensive, as I only play 5$ Craps and Blackjack, and sit down at the occasional slot machine.  Luckily, on a weekday afternoon, most of the tables are cheaper.  In this case, the craps table was only 5$ minimum, so I stood and played for a bit.  Amazingly, I won 80$ in about 25 minutes.  This old tall black guy couldn't miss!!! After he rolled a 7 and the shooter shifted, I figured, that's a good days work, and got outta there.  I had to meet my friend Loren back at the motel in a half hour anyway for game 2.  Beer money!  Thanks Milwaukee's decimated Indian tribe!!

My divorce was just finalized September 3rd, but my friend Loren's breakup is recent and is a much fresher wound.  For selfish reasons, I'm kinda glad it happened.  Gives me a partner in crime for my exploits.  When he was married, he might have had to drive her to fertility treatments or something else equally as asinine, instead of coming to the ballgame with me in Milwaukee.  We had special club seats that evening, which gave us access to "The Stadium Club".  Club seats are a devilishly brilliant way to get people to pay more money to sit in crappy seats.  As in the left field corner.  At least there's waitress service, but once again, I found myself bored sitting there drinking beer, while Loren sat there trying to manically replace his wife by texting 5 different girls on OK Cupid throughout the game.  For those of you that don't know, OK Cupid is a free dating site.  I saw Johann Santana Pitch a No Hitter at Citi Field in NYC on an OK Cupid date after my marriage broke up.  My excitement at watching the No-no was dampened greatly however, because the girl laughed like that cartoon dog, Muttley.

I was bored by my "laugh wheezing" OK Cupid date, and now, I'm bored again by my incessantly texting friend.  

And that's when I saw him....

You may have to zoom waaaaaayyyyy in, but that yellow spec under the Journal Sentinel sign is the Rally Banana!  I said "Loren!  Screw these Club seats!  The Rally Banana is right over there!  Let's go hang with him!!"  Loren begrudgingly agreed, probably because they have better beer in the Club seats and he's a beer snob, but he was a sport and we ended up in Bananaland!  

Thank God for this Banana!  The battle for 4th place is, well, not really a battle at all.  And even though I love me some Cubs baseball, the only, and I mean only, thing that made these games fun, was Teddy the Rally Banana.  We gambled on at bats and strikes and balls (I won the double or nothing at the end of it all.  Good gambling day).  We sang.  Please note.  I only sang "Root Root Root For the Brewers" because I lost that bet....

I had such a great time with the Rally Banana, that I'm sure my friend Loren wondered why he drove all the way up to Milwaukee to hang out with me, and all I wanted to do was hang out with the Brewer's unofficial mascot, a banana.  Well, in fairness all he wanted to do was flirt online with strangers.  We have both been in rare form since our divorces I suppose.

I penned a fun joke article about the rally banana the next day after the Cubs squeaked out a win 5-4.   

The above sentence is a link to it....

The night ended...I don't know how...but it did...Loren drove, and it was my night to drink.  I think we hung out at Kelly's Bleachers and ate crappy food while Loren flirted with waitresses half our age.  Even though Kelly's is the most popular joint on the stretch.  Most famous anyway.  For my money, I still dream about those corned beef covered waffle cheese fries at Burkes Irish Castle.  But Kelly's does have 'this guy' who drives the shuttle.  

Either way you win, and you don't have to pay to park at Miller...although sometimes parking at Miller is the best move....you're in tailgating country!

The next day I woke up, Loren left, and my hangover had me in a morose mood.  I had learned precious little about these people who call Milwaukee home.  Why did I buy factory reject jelly beans?  Why giant half sized corned beef cheese fries?  Why does George Webb predict the Brewers will win 12 straight games?  Why a rally banana?  Why did Loren and my marriages break up?  Why did I go on a date with a woman who laughs like a cartoon dog?  Why did that lawyer open a spy restaurant?  Why does the mall look kinda like the ballpark?  Why Why why?  I had more questions than answers, but there was no time for any of it.  I had a 1pm game and only a few hours to meet my brother in law and his friends for some pregaming.  They had a parking pass, and planned on tailgating.  But I had other plans for the moment.  

When I was in high school, I was at a Speech team meet when they announced over the loudspeaker that Jeffery Dahmer had been shivved in prison.  People cheered.  I'm not sure why, A. They announced it to a bunch of teenagers from the Chicago suburbs.  Or B.  Why people cheered.  But that's what happened.  A friend and I traveled to Milwaukee after senior year to go and see where Dahmer lived. Just to creep ourselves out. Not certain if we found the right place, but we were definitely in the vicinity.  This was pre-internet. and this kind of information could only be gleaned word of mouth , from waitresses and gas station attendants.  All of whom would look at you sideways when you asked them "Could you tell me where Jeffery Dahmer lived?", and they'd say a street and give you a general idea where, but we never knew if we found the damned place or not.  But this time....post internet...

924 N. 25th st. Milwaukee Wi.

It's a vacant lot now and someone planted flowers...

Yes. More questions than answers.  Why would Dahmer try and make Zombie love slaves in Milwaukee of all places? And when they ended up dying, why did he eat them?  I didn't feel as though I was going to find many answers as to what makes Milwaukee tick here, and I was as thoroughly creeped out as I was in high school.  This time, maybe more.  The series was tied 1-1.  I had tailgating to do.  Off to the ballpark. 

I took the Kelly's Bleachers shuttle over and met up with my Brother in law, Rob, his neighbor Paul, and some other guy.  They were drinking Belgian beers in the figurative shadow of Miller Park.  Which looks like a cross between a mall and an airplane hanger, while I look like a young George Wendt.

Rob, my brother in law has been married to my little sister for a long time.  He's an engineer, he builds stuff, and has a nice house and 3 kids.  We're family, but live completely different lifestyles.  We do however share a love of beer and the Cubs.  His neighbor, Paul is the best and worst next door neighbor you could ever have.  The kinda guy who knocks on your back door window at 11pm, holding a half a bottle of whiskey for sharing.  Usually drunk, always fun to hang out with. A salt of the earth kinda guy.  The other guy and I didn't talk.

Let me let you in on an age old ballpark secret.  If you know people, such as these 3 gentlemen pictured above and below, who have box seats, all you have to do is buy a scalped 10$ ticket in the parking lot, and have one of the guys meet you on the concourse with 2 of the box seats tickets after the other guys are seated down front.  You then just show the box seat ticket to the usher, and you're in 100 level.  Easy peasy!  This only works if it isn't packed.  And as most battles for the basement, it wasn't.

As famed Brewer player and announcer Bob Eucker famously quipped after being kicked out of his seat in that 80's Miller Lite commercial, "I must be in the front row!".  

Hey!  I just noticed that jerk I'm with is wearing a Cardinals hat!  No wonder I didn't talk to him!!!

The Racing Sausages exited up my aisle!!!!

The Cubs won the game 7-2, and the series 2-1!!

The Rally Banana was not at this game unfortunately.  It would have been tough to sneak him down to the first row anyway.  Everyone at Miller Park knows him, and knows he doesn't have Box Seats.

So what the hell just happened to me?  I went up north looking for what Milwaukee is all about and to find a preadolescent freedom.  Did I find it?  In the Banana?  In the mall?  In the corned beef fries?  At Dahmer's vacant lot?  In the moustache?  Or is this just another pathetic midlife crisis?  

Damn,  I'm way too analytical, always looking for meaning in the smallest action or turn of events.  I don't have the human where-with-all to just relax, have a beer, cheer on a racing sausage, or sit in a lawn chair at a tailgate party.  Like a real Milwaukeean. Like when I was a 14 year old boy, entertained simply by a Rick Cerone song, an oblong trip step covered in nacho cheese, or a long walk home through the ghetto.   Our little brothers to the north take it all in stride.  They don't try to be too much, or too excitable like we are down in Chicago.  They do however, try to be as drunk as possible, and root their Brew Crew to victory. Unlike the other teams in our division, I kinda like these guys. As a Cubs fan, I always appreciate an underdog.  And Milwaukee is the quintessential underdog.  

The Brewers, like the Astros this year, were recently moved to another league.  No conversation.  No warning.  Just, "no one cares about you, your team is an afterthought, you're moving."  Imagine if they did that to us Cubs fans!  We'd throw a hissy fit!!!  But Brewers fans just took it in stride and said,"Ok, I guess the pitchers bat now."  I can dress like a Brewers fan, drink with them, eat like them.  But I can't ever be one of them.  It's not that I'm too cool for it, it's that I'm too anxiety ridden and high strung for it.  

Thank you Milwaukee!  Thanks for your authenticity, your friendliness, your beer, your lucrative casino, your corned beef cheese fries, and your folksy unpretentious charm.  

As I write this article, the Cubs are currently playing in Milwaukee for 4 games.  And yes, we are still fighting for 4th place.  The Cubs are unfortunately losing the battle, having lost the first 2.  It doesn't matter though.  I'm going up there tomorrow.  Milwaukee is a place I'll always go.  Maybe I can learn to relax and just be myself.  Just like real Milwaukeean.  (except Dahmer).

If I were a cop, I'd assume this guy was drunk and pull him over...

Burkes!  

3 construction workers died making Miller Park.

Not sure why this snake is talking to this Cubs fan...but just go with it...

Me and Bernie!

Rainbow over the smokers patio

Me and Mr. Banana

Really?

Attempting a box seat sneak in...fail....

It's tiring rooting for the wrong team...

Brewer fan power!

OK.  If you're in your 50's and still bring a mitt to the ballpark, you may have undealt with childhood issues.

Grabbing Hank's package

Respect the stache!

Club seat bathrooms!

The divorcees!

A Cubs Brewers love affair waiting to happen.

Old school.

 Hablas Espanol?

This close and still no foul ball!

Cubs Win!

Me and the Bro in Law

Eat like the locals!

On my way home!

Chicago sunset.