Bleacher Report - Articles by Dan Hoehne

Talk About an NBA Disconnect: Good Sportsmanship Bad for Fans?

Dan Hoehne — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 00:04:48 -0400

I literally just got done watching the telecast of the Bulls-Pistons game on TNT and was immediately moved to start typing.

No, that's not my normal Tuesday night.

Sure, I was glad that the Chicago Five continued their tradition of late-season runs to reach the playoffs—the best we can hope for as Bulls fans the last ten years or so.

And yes, especially satisfying that it was against the Pistons, the age-old nemesis and measuring stick of the team's status. Though, considering the Detroit squad's current state and stature, it doesn't ring as soundly as it once did, though as a measuring stick, it obviously still holds water—considering the Bulls' current state and stature.

But what I really want to discuss is the statement that commentator Marv Albert made as the final seconds ticked off—as well as to what was leading to that statement.

We know that at any sporting event you go to, with the abhorrent ticket prices added to the 'airport pricing' of anything bought within the confines of your chosen stadium, there are gimmicks and to somehow make you feel at ease with the money you've parted with to be there.

In our current economic times, all the more so.

Raised in the suburbs of Chicago, and a lifelong Bulls fan who has had the great fortune to attend quite a few games, I know the long-held staple 'gimmick' of going to a game is that if the Bulls score above a certain number of points, the tickets in your hand that granted you admittance would now be worth a free piece of food.

Whether a Big Mac, in more prosperous times, or a White Castle Slider, or a Taco Bell Taco—the end result wasn't the point, it was that you actually got something extra for your "fandom." That your support of your team, in any regard, could somehow be rewarded.

The prize items have changed, as has the standard, over the years, but the innate feeling that the accomplishment brings about has always remained the same.

Which brings us to tonight.

I'm still not sure what the food item to be won was, but I figured out that the magic number of Bulls points that would turn the entry passes of the ticket buyers a free snack at sometime in the near future was 100.

With just over one minute to play, the home team had 98 points and Kirk Hinrich stood at the free-throw line.

The overabundance of crowd noise only emphasized the fact that these points were crucial—despite the fact that the Bulls held a double-digit lead.

After making the first, the applause was of excited relief.

When he shorted the second one off the front of the rim, the expected, en-masse "Awww..." was heard throughout the stadium—but it wasn't too dire. There was still time, and only one point needed to be scored.

In these economic times, where the disconnect between million-dollar athletes and the at-risk fans who swallow hard and buy tickets to see them play is at an all-time high, the focus should be on A) winning for said supporters and B) connecting with them in any way, shape or form.

There really are no other aspects or options.

As a trade of possessions took place, and the final seconds ticked off with the Bulls regaining the ball with time left to score, the players packed it in and Marv Albert suggested that this was a good thing, that the players were considering the situation, knowing they had the game won and there was no need to push for a meaningless score.

Meaningless, in the sense that the Pistons would be offended?

Pointless in that, they didn't need a player extending an extra effort of any sort?

To Marv Albert, as well as to the players—the fact that the game was decided should have made it all the more sensible, all the more meaningful, that you push for that score, that you extend that effort to get your fans that extra bonus.

As minor, as slight, as trivial as that ticket serving as a free pass for an extra treat is - A little something extra is what we could all use right now.

As trivial as it might be to some.

Potential Is Key for Cubs, NL Central Rotations

Dan Hoehne — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 14:56:53 -0500

As temperatures warm ever so slowly throughout the country, the time for pitchers and catchers to report to the warm climates of Arizona and Florida is almost upon us.

With that in mind, a look at the Cubs pitching staff, and a comparison to their NL Central foes, seems in order.

We always, especially in the offseason, feel good about the arms we have taking the mound—more so than those other teams that we look down upon year-round.

A closer look does show quite a bit of promise, although questions and worries do lurk.

We've known for a while now that the stuff of Carlos Zambrano's is second to none—but then so is his propensity for melting down in the midst of any given moment.

Ryan Dempster was a huge surprise, going 17-6 with a paltry ERA of 2.96 and a robust 206.2 innings pitched and 187 strike-outs.

Ted Lilly had as quiet of a 17-9 record as you'll come across, and Rich Harden was spot on in his starts, going 5-1 with a 1.77 ERA and 89 Ks in just 71 innings.

Gone is Jason Marquis. Though he was an innings eater, most fans will view his departure as an addition by subtraction. Getting a veteran bullpen arm like Luis Vizcaino out of the deal is potential icing on the cake.

Then again, potential is one of the most cursed words that can come back to bite you. Let's face it, potential is a descriptor that comes up a lot when analyzing the Cubs staff for this upcoming season—starting and bullpen alike.

Harden has the potential to be lights out, as we evidenced—but his health history is always a question.

Zambrano's stuff is obviously unquestioned—then again, so is his emotional make-up.

Dempster wasn't really as much a surprise, in that he was a solid starter before arm troubles pushed him to the bullpen. Getting his arm back to where it was, he took the next step. He should be solid, if not strong, again.

Lilly keeps piling up the respectable numbers for a No. 2 or No. 3 starter. But who rounds out the rotation?

A few offseason trades and signings have brought in an arm or two, likeAaron Heilman, that could vie for the slot. Some familiar faces who keep shuttling back and forth between Iowa and the North Side, such as Kevin Hart and Angel Guzman, will also compete for the fifth spot

The bet is that lefty Sean Marshall will secure the position, balancing out the rotation with another lefty.

In the bullpen, there are plenty of quality arms, but as many questions, with that word, "potential," popping up again.

Kerry Wood was let go, so the closer's spot will be most likely handed to Carol Marmol.

Like Zambrano, he has electric stuff, and, unlike Big Z, he seems to keep things under control.

But the step to the ninth inning is never a sure thing—what worked in the eighth might not carry over. The pressure gets amped up a ton from one inning to the next, will his level of concentration and intensity?

Names that may be thrown into the mix for closer will be Kevin Gregg, acquired from Florida, and Jeff Samardzija, who showed a nice, live arm in middle relief last season.
Odds are, the layout will be Samardzija in the seventh, Gregg in the eighth and Marmol in the ninth, with Vizcaino mixed in there somewhere.

Samardzija is likely being groomed as a future starter, but it doesn't seem this will be the year to debut him there.

There is a potential problem brewing, however. With Marshall in the rotation, it leaves Neil Cotts as the only lefty in the pen.

Looking around the Central, the Cubs closest competitors last year, Milwaukee, saw their top-heavy staff decimated in the offseason with both CC Sabathia and Ben Sheets heading out of town. The only notable, or recognizable, addition to the staff was the signing of closer Trevor Hoffman, already a few years past his prime.

St. Louis also has plenty of " potential," with the injury-prone Chris Carpenter being asked to be a key ingredient to a decent-to-strong starting staff that includes Kyle Lohse, Adam Wainwright, Joel Piniero, and former Cub Todd Wellemeyer.

Houston standout Roy Oswalt is back and will be, as usual, a dependable ace. Brandon Backe and all three starters following him, are, at best, No. 3 starters on a playoff team. Their closer, Jose Valverde, with his 44 saves and 83 Ks in 72 innings, gives them a very nice staff ace and closer combination. Houston is also taking a flyer on Mike Hampton, who never really has recovered from his days in Colorado.

Cincinnati actually may have one of the top rotations in the division, with Bronson Arroyo and the young, impressive arms of Edinson Volquez and Johnny Cueto backed up by Aaron Harang and Micah Owings.

Pittsburgh, at least, can savor their Super Bowl win all summer. While the likes of Paul Maholm, Ian Snell, Zach Duke and Tom Gorzelanny might be solid, middle-to-end of rotation guys for a good team, you're not scaring too many front-runners with them as your entire staff.

From an ERA standpoint, the Cubs, Cardinals and Reds have the best pitching in the division. And while there are many bits of potential and questions to be answered for the Chicago staff, there seems to be just as many with their challengers for the divison title.

Carlos Zambrano's No-No Becomes a Momentary Boo-Hoo

Dan Hoehne — Sun, 14 Sep 2008 17:03:15 -0400

I think I've established that I am as ardent a Cubs fan as you will find.

Since 1977, I've been stitched in as part of the fabric of the team.

I've suffered greatly, as a result of this early-childhood affliction.

But it is because of the sufferings that the moment of pure elation at successes can be felt.

I've seen the team win the most unlikely of games and was beside myself in joy.

I've seen them lose games they had been all of assured of winning and was reminded that this is just how things went sometimes.

Some of the latter has been witnessed all too recently, as imminent fears of a full-on collapse to this wondrous season were in full bloom.

But tonight was an especially special one.

It started out as a grave disappointment, in that, living in Florida now, I'm not able to access as many Cubs games on TV as I did before.

I knew the originally scheduled game against the Astros, in Houston, was supposed to be on WGN.

With the horrific events in southeast Texas over the weekend, nothing was assured.

But when it was announced that the game would be played on Sunday, albeit, in Milwaukee, I had a faint glimmer of hope.

It's nearby; it was scheduled as a WGN event; so why would it not be shown?

I even went to the Cub website to see if it would be shown on WGN, and the website confirmed it.

But when 8 PM ET rolled around, I was seeing a Newhart episode when I turned to good ol' Channel 9, 29 on my Comcast dial.

"Oh well," I thought. "I guess I'll just have to check in, from time to time, on mlb.com."

A usual refrain these days, as somehow, WGN feels it can get more viewers from old reruns than from actual, live games of a team that is headed for the playoffs.

So, after flipping between the Sarah Palin biography on some channel and Castaway on TBS, I looked up and it was 9:30, again, Eastern Time.

I figured, "oh, it must be around the sixth or seventh inning."

Close but not quite.

Bottom of the fifth, Cubs up 5-0.

Oh, and the Astros didn't have a hit as yet.

Wait, who's pitching again?

Oh, Zambrano!

Welcome back from your shoulder issues. Now this is the Big Z we hoped for.

But as nice as it seemed that he was shutting them down, the thoughts of a no-hitter, well, they weren't really anything I thought about.

Sure, Carlos is one of those pitchers that they say, "With his stuff, he's a threat to throw a no-hitter any night."

True that, but he's also one that, to anyone who has seen him, can implode at a moment's notice and turn a one-hit shutout, into a five hit, five walk, one hit batsman, eight-run inning.

So while I thought it was a good sign that he was pitching well, I didn't give much thought to the no-no.

Checked back a while later, through seven, still no hits, and the lead was still the same.

At that point, I fell back upon one of my old idiosyncratic beliefs.

The Cubs are doing well without you checking in, so stop right now and just wait to find out the result.

Later on, after watching some sordid, astonishingly warped bunch of minds in a documentary about L.A. gangs, I flipped to SportsCenter, to see if the White Sox-Tigers game was finally over.

And amid week two of the NFL season, their lead story was that Carlos, the Big Z, had pitched the first Cub no-hitter since Milt Pappas in 1972.

Like I've said, I've been a Cub fan for a long time and had seen just about everything, including back-to-back triples (Ivan DeJesus and Lenny Randle, circa 1980).

But I'd never seen a no-hitter.

And, well, to this day, I've never seen a Cub throw a no-hitter, thanks to WGN.

But just seeing that it had actually happened, that a player on MY team had accomplished this feat, I have to admit, I got nutty.

A conglomeration of elation, fist-pumping, jumping up and down, smiling and sobbing all at the same time.

The fact that the Brewers and Cardinals had already lost this day, expanding the lead was a side thought that added a bit to it.

But in my Cub-fan lifetime, to have one of them do this, that was all I cared about.

I will sleep well tonight, with a smile on my face, in knowing that it happened.

It's just a shame I couldn't see it.

The Leak in The Dyke

Dan Hoehne — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 15:24:55 -0400

This wouldn't be the first time a professional athlete has crumbled under the pressure and, rest assured, it won't be the last.

Not to say Vince Young can't recover from the first blow to his humility.

The vast majority of professional athletes in our modern times have been coddled, put upon a pedastal and told that nothing they could do was wrong, from the time they were 8-years old.

Up through the high school ranks it goes. The adoration, the adulation, the continual admiration that tells them they can do nothing wrong.

And that goes beyond the field of action.

Having reached the pros and become a stalwart defender, it was found that Dexter Manley could barely read at an eighth grade level.

On through college, where winning with the talent that has been cultivated is at a much higher premium than on the high school level.

So of course, more heads will be turned off the field, as the cheers for the new savior become ever louder.

An athlete who is head and shoulders above his peers only knows, only feels, only has access to that side of it.

The adulation, the cheers, the continued pats on the back as grade after grade is passed through.

But it's not even so much about the academic side of things, it is more the psychological side.

Up until he is 18, 19, 22 years old, all this young man has known is that he's better than most in what he does, and everyone around him constantly reminds him of that.

So when he gets to the next level, the ultimate level, where he is no longer head and shoulders above everyone else, but just another talented athlete who will have to work hard to even earn his place....what then?

For the first time in his life, he won't be able to automatically rise above the competition...he won't always be the hero.

He might often be the goat, the weak link in that week's loss.

For many of us, another loss is a moment of daily life.

For these people, it's unforseen territory.

And as much as I wanted to turn this into an article on the foolhardy practices of today's suburban parents wanting their childred to win an award for any accomplishment achieved, I couldn't.

Because Vince Young was a Jesus of Suburbia, as many are.

He is just a sensitive child that is representative of the modern era to which I write.

A quarterback, the central and seminole figure of any football team.

Only knowing success, for all his years at the position.

Gets to the NFL, ripe off a National Championship and Heisman Trophy win, and of course, he expects to take the next level by storm.

His initial step into the mix, he continues to do what he did.

He takes over games.

Uses his oft-relied upon natural ability to get it done.

But then the adjustment comes.

As in all sports - surprise us, and we'll adjust.

The onus then goes back to the young stud, to adjust his game for what the league has adjusted to.

Thus far, Vince hasn't really been able to.

Not saying it's an easy task.

It has often been what separated the true pros from the pretenders.

The Hall of Famers from the mere All Pros.

Point being, it's all about the mental toughness that tells us either Hall or bust.

Vince seems to have a world of ability, but can his ego take the hit?

A sensitive man, who absorbs the new-found criticism as an intitial blow.

Can he respond and react in an "I will prove them wrong" manner, or will he shrink from the harsh criticism a home-town NFL crowd can produce?

As a fellow human, I pray for him and am sure he will be fine, as his family support is obviously strong.

Looking, as a fan, of the NFL, I shake my head and wonder if he can make it back and befuddle us all.

I hope he does.

For if he doesn't, as I alluded to earlier, the next generation coming up....they will all be too fragile.

Baseball Basics

Dan Hoehne — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 17:48:35 -0400

OK, here's the situation, my parent's went away on a weeks vacation...

No, wait, that's the start of 'Parent's Just Don't Understand' by the Fresh Prince.

Actually, the situation is, the Cubs just lost in 11 innings, ensuring their first home, series loss since June.

And yet it was such a winnable game.

Some might blame Kerry Wood, for giving up the two-run homer to Geoff Blum in the 11th.

Some might even cast aspersions on the home-plate umpire, for giving Lance Berkman a VERY borderline ball four call just before Blum came plate-ward.

I, personally, take it back a few innings.

Now I know baseball like the back of my hand, and yet I don't profess to have ever coached, nor played anywhere near the major league level.

Which befuddles me all the more, that in certain situations, I seem to have a better grasp on what to do.

Cubs lead the game at one point, only to give up the lead and be down by four.

Miraculously, the bats come to life, the plate discipline becomes that much sharper.

They tie the game and have the perfect setup in the eighth to not only take the lead, but put an exclamation point on the win.

Astros reliever Doug Brocail walks three straight men with one out, loading the bases...remember, the game is tied.

And one Mr. Derrek Lee steps into the box.

Now, call me crazy, but facing a pitcher that has just walked three men in a row, I'm taking the first pitch.

That is, unless I'm zoned in on a first-ball, get-me-over, fastball that I just KNOW I can elevate and drive.

But no, the pitch is low, and Mr. Lee, correctly, takes the ball.

A) because it was, in fact, a ball from a pitcher who has thrown more than his share in the very recent past.

B) because it was not the sort of pitch to elevate and drive.

Because, as should be the mentality of a batter at that stage, the only pitch you should want to swing at is something you can elevate and drive.

A deep fly ball that goes for an out?

Worst case, the lead run comes across and a shutout top of the ninth wins the game.

But, if you aren't thinking along those lines and just swing at the first 'strike,' there is the one, dreaded, possibility...grounding into the inning-ending double play that takes the proverbial wind out of the sails of both team, fans, surrounding neighborhood, city, and stragglers like me watching from afar.

Second pitch, a fastball at the knees.

Perhaps a tad more in the strike zone than the first pitch, but definitely not something that is elevatable or driveable.

And yet, one Mr. Derrek Lee hacks away at it, ripping a shot toward third.

Perhaps he could have ripped a frozen rope past the third baseman, and even possibly score two.

But no, the ultimate fear, the one thing we didn't want to happen in that situation does.

The third baseman, a certain Mr. Blum, scoops it up and starts the 5-4-3 double play, that ends the inning, defuses the momentum and eventually leads to the Cubs loss.

Sure, plenty went on after that, there were other chances.

But none so golden as that one particular chance.

If only a major league player had a clue as to what he should be looking for in that situation.

I've been a fan of Derrek Lee, was enamored of him coming to the club and thought he was a god during his miraculous run in '05.

But, as I wrote in another article, or was it a comment to another article...I sometimes wonder now, how in the world he manages to keep his average above .290.

The stats say so, but watching that at bat tonight, I wonder if this is another case of numbers not being the full truth.

When I Knew I Was a Cubs Fan: A Lesson Learned in 1979

Dan Hoehne — Mon, 01 Sep 2008 17:01:19 -0400

It was May 17, 1979. I was 11 years old, and by now it was routine.

Having been a follower of the Cubs for three years by that point, I knew how it went.

I'd get home from grade school, turn on Ch. 9, and catch the Cubs game in about the third or fourth inning.

Consider, in the mid- to late-'70s, the Cubs were a hard-working, hustling, though for the most part overly matched club. They'd have their streaks, or moments of brilliance, only to be soured by the overall ineptitude.

Before the era of big market, small market...before revenue sharing, each club was left to its owners devices and whims.

Just before I was able to become a fan, before I came of age enough to be a fan, the Cubs had a repeat batting champion in Bill Madlock.

Of course, he asked for a raise after getting that second straight hitting title, and, of course, the Wrigley ownership promptly shipped him off.

That was the sort of organization I came to be a fan of, and they would not disappoint.

And yet, even in my early years, as horrid as things could be, I was hooked.

The big chaw of Red Man in Steve Ontiveros' cheek. The eye black and thrown-bat base hits of Bill Buckner (more on him in another article), the portly-yet-surprisingly-agile Rick Reuschel.

They were my guys, the baseball team of my early childhood.

But by age 11, I was already jaded. So much so that on that fateful afternoon, arriving home from school, I went through the routine, and for the first time...cut it short.

Like I said, I would get home and catch the game in the third or fourth inning.

On this day, however, in a matchup with the hated Phillies (back in the days of just the NL East and West, with the Atlanta Braves being in the West), I got home and the top of the first inning was just ending.

Jack Brickhouse said, as the picture came on..."Going into the bottom half of the first, it's Phillies 7, Cubs nothing."

I'd had it.

As bad as they might have been most of the time, I would stick it through, thinking Ivan DeJesus will start things up, Kingman and Buckner and Jerry Martin will club a homer or two each and they'll make a game of this.

But here it was, early in my third season of fandom, and I'd given up on my guys.

Already 7-0? Against the powerhouse Phillies? Just after their first inning at bat?

I turned the TV off and headed out.

I have no idea what I did with my afternoon, probably just went outside and became a relative part of 11-year-old suburban society of the late '70s.

But I found out later, that the Cubs went on to score six in their half of the first, making it 7-6, on the way to one of the most epic battles in baseball lore.

Kingman, in fact, hit three homers that day. Buckner and Martin, along with Steve Ontiveros, added one blast apiece. Many other players finished with multiple hits or multiple runs scored.

The Cubs, obviously, ended up losing, 23-22, on a Mike Schmidt homer, his second of the game.

But I never forgave myself for not at least seeing them through to the bottom of the first.

Which is why, even now, even today, as I saw them fall behind 2-0, then 3-0...even while I had other things to do, I couldn't turn the TV off.

I came on here and wrote my first article for Bleacher Report, then kept checking back to see any response.

But in the other room, in the background, forever in the background, were my Cubs.

All because I missed the bottom of the first inning in 1979.

Special Dictionary Needed For Race-Y Language

Dan Hoehne — Mon, 01 Sep 2008 14:32:34 -0400

I'm posting my first "award-winning" article that was published in the Sebring News-Sun, just to get you all a little more familiar with my work.

It won third place for best sports column in the state of Florida for '07 among papers our size.

Here in Sebring, the big annual event is the 12 Hours of Sebring, a grand prix race that actually predates the 24 Hours of LeMans, started by the guy who also started the LeMans race.

Having not been a race fan, or ever at all knowledgeable about racing, I got a feet to the fire test.

But I took great curiosity in the "Pit Notes" that would be distributed in the press box every twenty minutes or so. This was my take on reading them...

I mentioned in my previous column about my day at the Sebring Races and the "pit notes" that were passed around to the members of the press corps every 20 minutes or so.

Looking closer at them in the time since, I see two things—that racing has a language all its own and that sometimes notes aren't the best way to fully inform someone of what is happening.

Just like a baseball fan knows that a "can of corn" is an easy fly ball, I'm sure a racing fan knows what "new rear splitter" means.

If a football fan hears that their team sucessfully ran a "hook 'n ladder," they know just what pass play likely went for big yardage. Similarly, I would think that a racing fan would know what problems would arise if they suffered a "tie rod end bolt failure."

But for me, phrases like this, and many others I came across in the notes, didn't exactly clue me in as to what was going on.

When Bill Auberlen came into the pits, his crew was apparently "chasing an oil leak." Why would you chase an oil leak? If an oil leak wants to run away, shouldn't you let it?

Then there was the time Guy Smith came into the pits in an "unannounced stop." The note also says there were "problems with communication." Was it mechanical problems with their communication devices so that neither party could get in touch with each other?
Or was it more a squabble where the driver wanted to come in but the team didn't want him to, or vice-versa?

Five words, leading to so many questions.

Tom Enge made a stop where there was no driver change, but they "swapped the noses." Were the teams' drivers part of the Mr. Potato Head family?

Darren Law came into the pits and didn't get any fuel, didn't switch with another driver—it just says he was "behind the wall—rubbing his right rear." Those car seats must not be very comfortable.

Plenty of drivers, and cars for that matter, seemed to go "behind the wall" at various times during the Race, with no explanation as to what was behind the wall or why they were going back there.

There were other notes that just didn't give enough follow-up or detailed information.
At 12:13, Dominik Fambacher "stopped on course at Turn Three, but continues."
Um, OK. Maybe he saw a deer or wanted to change the radio station.

A message that came across after the eighth hour of the race stated, "Car 32 is on fire."
Whether they were being literal (which turned out to be the case) or just complimenting how well that racer was doing, is unclear—but I'd think they should have at least put an exclamation point on that remark.

Then there were times when they got needlessly descriptive, such as in this update as to the current conditions:

"The air temperature is 63 degrees with a track temperature of 69 degrees, under dark skies."

Considering it was 9:17 p.m., the dark skies seemed likely.

And finally, there was the one note that, to me, was just too much information. Apparently, the team of Bryan Herta was "standing near the pit wall with parts in their hands."

Maybe they should have stayed behind the wall if they were going to do that.

Chicago Cubs Haven't Heard the Fat Lady Singing Yet

Dan Hoehne — Mon, 01 Sep 2008 09:03:25 -0400

As a Cub fan since I was eight-years old, meaning for 32 years, I've seen my share of bad teams, had many moments of heartache, and have a definite feel for the team's misfortunes—of which there have been many.

Which is why, on the one hand, a magical season like this has been has been extra special—much in the way the '84, '89, and '03 regular seasons were.

But any true Cub fan will know that while each passing game with them maintaining their lead in the division and battling for the best record in the majors is great, there is always that lingering apprehension.

We're just too familiar with the blunders of the past, too scared of the bad karma the baseball gods seem to have over us and the team.

I, to this day, do not blame Steve Bartman—but honestly, as I've discussed with friends and just as diehard Cub fans as I am, we all knew at that moment, that it was the beginning of the end.

Sure, the Cubs lead the majors in run differential and have a seemingly perfectly balanced lineup.

A few big boppers in the middle, as well as the spray hitters and small ballers who set the table.

But it's days like yesterday, along with the day before, that baffle and infuriate me.

Hits galore, but a total of five runs for two games?

Even as good as our pitching has been, a 2.5 run-per-game average won't be getting anyone to the hallowed grounds of the World Series.

And it's not just those two games.

Despite the wide run-differential, there seems to be games, every so often, where the offense collectively shuts down, patience is lost, and no plan seems to be had when approaching an at bat.

I kept shouting at the television after each swing at a third-strike slider in the dirt, "If the pitch starts out at your knees, it is not going to be a strike!"

Yet Soriano, Lee, and Ramirez didn't seem to get my bit of advice.

Sure, I know, it's only a couple games, and they actually did split the series with a talented team that is in their own playoff chase.

Call me hyperparanoid at times about the Cubs, even amidst a phenomenal regular season.

But as many of you can attest to—I'm sure—a lifetime of watching the Cubs kind of makes us all hyperparanoid at times.