#3: Alex “Your Hopes for a 2003 Championship Are” Gonzalez

“You want this?  I have no use for it.”You’re a lucky man, Alex Gonzalez. Your ridiculous flair for dramatic walk-off home runs and your shockingly timely home runs in the 2003 NLCS spared you from a much more degrading fate on The Bottom 126.

As it stands, you gave me just barely enough fist-pumping moments to squeeze in at third on the list. It helped your case that the trade for you sent Felix Heredia out of the country. You also didn’t seem to be the face of pure evil, though I suppose the face of pure evil would actually disguise itself with the face of an angel. Either that or a mask of human skin. In any event, congratulations on not being ranked higher.

Gonzalez came to the Cubs from Toronto on December 10, 2001, as one of those alleged “great glove, power-hitting shortstops.” Unfortunately for the Cubs, when you convert Canadian “great glove, power-hitting shortstops” into U.S. currency, they end up being “21-error, mediocre-power turds.” Thanks a f@#$ing lot, Canada. And, by the way, what the f@#$ am I supposed to do with this penny? I hate maple syrup, and I hate all of you.Get your wanna-be U.S. coins out of our circulation! Your money is about as good here as Gonzalez’s plate discipline.

There are two groups of people who think that Alex Gonzalez is a good baseball player. One thing they have in common is that they both refer to Gonzalez as “Gonzo” or “A-Gonz.” The other thing they have in common is that they are idiots.

The first group are those people who like to use the phrase “some pop.” They say things like, “Gonzo wasn’t that bad. He was a great fielder, and he had some pop in his bat.” Bullshit on both counts. Gonzalez was an average fielder with good range and a good arm. He gets credit for being involved in a lot of double plays. Whoop-dee-f@#$ing do. All that statistic tells you is that the Cubs pitchers couldn’t keep anyone off first base when Gonzalez was with the team. As to the “pop in his bat” foolishness, Gonzalez has a career .391 slugging percentage. Neifi Perez has a .375 career slugging percentage. That is not pop. You want a player with “some pop in his bat”? Shitty players like Jose Valentin have some pop. Even in Valentin’s worst full year, he had a higher SLG (.393) than Gonzalez’s career average. The only thing Gonzalez makes “pop” is the vein on my forehead.

The second group of people who support Gonzalez do so solely because they want to have sex with him. That’s right, heterosexual male Gonzalez supporters. Frantically go back and check whether you fall into the first group. This group is for those attracted to dudes and consists of mostly women and Derek Jeter. Nothing drove me more crazy than when I would be at Wrigley Field during the 2003 season, discussing (loudly) how badly Gonzalez sucked only to have a woman in a pink Cubs jersey and hat turn and say to me, “But A-Gonz is so cute! Don’t make fun of him! Here are my terms. Lead yourself out of Wrigley Field and I will buy you alcohol, including a pitcher of Goose Island, from which you will give me-, from which you will give me a glass of-” And then I would say, “I have an offer for you. Here are my terms. Lower your beer, and march straight back to your boyfriend with the soul patch, the wife beater, the tattoos, and the giant holes in his earlobes, stopping at every home in Wrigleyville to beg forgiveness for 95 years of losing, mismanagement, and failure. Do that and you shall live. Do it not, and every one of your pink-shirted Trixies will die today.” And she’d say, “You are outmatched. You have no clutch hitting. In two centuries no team has won without-” And I’d say, “I’m not finished! Before we let you leave, you must cross that field, present yourself before this team, put your head between your legs, and kiss your own arse.”

Like I said, both groups of Gonzalez defenders were either dopes, or they were watching the wrong Alex Gonzalez. Watching the Cub version of Gonzalez was maddening. It didn’t take a hitting coach to figure out what he was doing wrong. Gonzalez was the right-handed Jacque Jones, trying to pull every goddamn pitch he saw into the left-field bleachers. Gonzalez would try to pull a pitchout if he swung at it. Whether he was told to make an adjustment, or whether he made one on his own, Gonzalez would have a stretch of about a week at a time when he would drive outside pitches to right-center field for doubles. Gonzalez would then get all excited that he was a “power hitter,” and he’d start trying to pull the shit out of the ball, only to find that he would revert to his same awful numbers when he did so. Perhaps pretty boy had seen this commercial too many times?

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Gonzalez’s love of chicks the long ball is a big part of the reason two of Gonzalez’s “Similar Batters,” according to Baseball-Reference are Jeff Blauser and Jose Hernandez. If he would have just hit pitches where they were pitched, he might have had a chance to be a halfway decent hitter. Instead, he had all the power of a Blauser plus all the strikeouts of a Hernandez. If only Gonzalez had gotten the looks of a Don Mossi, A face even a mother- ah, f@#$ it.  This guy is ridiculously ugly. not even the women of the world could have defended him.

Just how averse to getting on base was Gonzalez? Well, in 2004, Gonzalez was actually hit by a pitch, and wasn’t awarded first base. The pitch actually broke Gonzalez’s hand, snapping one of his f@#$ing HAND BONES into two pieces, yet he was unable to sell the fact that he was hit by a pitch to the umpire. Did he really hate getting on base that much? Take off your batting glove and show the umpire the BONE protruding from your skin as your swollen hand fills with blood. I bet he’ll give you first base. And then get that hand taken care of.

At the 2004 trade deadline, Gonzalez was traded after his hand healed in the four-team deal which brought Nomar Garciaparra’s gimpy groin and Matt Murton’s shockingly red hair to the Cubs. Gonzalez ended up on the Expos. I should have asked him to take this goddamn penny off my hands.


Low Point: Game f@#$ing Six. Blame Bartman, blame the goat, blame Farnsworth, blame Prior, blame whoever you want, but no one had a better chance to end that nightmarish eighth inning than Gonzalez. The score was still Cubs 3, Marlins 1 with one out and runners at first and second when Prior induced a double-play ground ball which should have ended the inning. The ball went right through Gonzalez for an E-6. Seven more Marlins crossed home plate after the error that inning, making the score 8-3 Marlins, which ended up being the final score of the game. Just think. If Mr. Great-Glove had been able to turn a routine double play in the biggest Cubs game of my lifetime, in all likelihood the sign on that one building on Sheffield might read AC030303 instead of AC036198. Sigh.


Did You Know? The other Alex Gonzalez–the one on the Marlins–is the one that basically put Game Seven out of reach for the Cubs. In the seventh inning, with the Marlins leading the Cubs 7-5, Gonzalez hit a two-run double off Dave Veres, giving the Marlins a 9-5 lead. F@#$ you, Bizarro Gonzalez. The Cubs lost the game and the series 9-6.

The Bottom 126

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