Hire Jim Essian

Had to go in to the way back machine for this one…all the way to Sunday, which is like 4 years in Internet time, but this did not deserve to go unmentioned. And ridiculed. Carol, you magnificent bastard, you’ve cured me of my lethargy.

Dear Tom Ricketts: I’m assuming you and your family will close the deal. I realize, given the current state of the banking system, that’s a pretty big assumption.

First of all, I don’t know why I picture Carol using “finger quotes” when using the expression “closing the deal” but if there’s one thing we should not expect from our gal, it’s hard-hitting business reporting, and it amuses me to imagine her getting the hoo-hah of the business and financial elements out of the way for more important matters. Such as…

But I have a hunch you’ll have an easier time financing your $900 million purchase than I’m having refinancing my condo.

Oh there it is. Carol’s affected. Hey guess what? I’ve been living in a cramped condominium in Rogers Park for four years now with a growing family, and not only have I not, until now, ever had the nerve to actually bitch about it to the public, but I sure as fuck don’t want to listen to it from a wannabe Trixie who’s sad because her Lakeview crib that she liquidated the hell out of with the delirious idea that it would be worth 600k some day, isn’t.

Not to get off the topic.

Oh, but I’m sure we’ll come back to Carol at some point. More than once, in fact.

I want to discuss the Cubs. You’re about to assume a massive responsibility, and I’m here to help.

Gosh you’re spunky. I just want to plaster a Bill Murray smiley face on my mug when you so bravely decide to take charge of affairs like that. Go ahead. Tell us what advice you have, ya little spitfire (tussles hair).

I don’t know if you’re the kind of guy who cares about what Cubs fans want,

Aren’t you a reporter for the Sun-Times? Or did you finally get fired? Because to be truthful, I was actually considering doing one of these cheesy “Open Letter to Tom Ricketts” things myself, as those dopey pieces are often what loser bloggers like me, with no access to actual important people, write. Otherwise, why didn’t you use that Nancy Drew investigative/journalistic know-how, can-do spirit of yours and, you know, call Tom Ricketts and find if he’s the “kind of guy who cares about what Cub fans want”?

Of course we should all know by now what low-hanging tard fruit Carol’s about to serve up to us (yipee!).

(As an added benefit, you’ll be popular.)

Holy crap, Carol. Really? If you actually looked like a Trixie–instead of someone who looks like they’ve been crying for a hundred days in a row–I could picture you, like, you know, using that selling point like in a really, really cool sales pitch to like, welcome this rich old cool dude to Isla de Wrigleyville. He’ll be like soooo pup-u-lure! Body shots!

So as a longtime observer of Cubs fans,

Oh this ought to be good. Over time, we’ve come to learn what to expect from Carole’s vision of Cubs fans: 38,000 Chads who never took her home.

I’d like to offer you some friendly advice:

1. If you ever sing ”Take Me Out to the Ball Game” during the seventh-inning stretch, make sure to memorize the words beforehand.

Yes, Carol. Because we Cub fans are all so stoked about the 7th inning stretch, and that it be sung faithfully!

For instance, although I’m sure you already know this, it’s ”Wrigley Field,” not ”Wrigley Stadium.”

I’m beyond groaning already. This is just sad. Already. We’re about a quarter of the way in to this article, and the advice from Carol Slezak–alleged sports reporter–in the sports section of one of the two dying daily newsies in Chicago, is more befitting of something that should appear in Time Out!’s entertainment section

And don’t hold the microphone too close because people want to hear the folks at the ballpark singing along with you. And at the end of the song, you’re supposed to say, ”Let’s get some runs!” (Not, ”It’s time for a beer run!”)

Oh! Hilarious. Because the majority of Cub fans are all drunken assholes who don’t care about the game, right? I get it!

Also, I just counted. Carole’s thoughts on the 7th Inning Stretch Guest Conductor–
which to some people (me) is one of the most annoying aspects of being a Cubs fan–has taken up 90 words in an article about how to best succeed in running a baseball team. If the long gone-but-not forgotten Lincoln Park Trixie Society were still around, Carol’s article could appear in there, unedited, as satire.

On second thought, you might want to consider doing away with guest conductors altogether. A lot of fans think this particular tradition has run its course.

Yes! A cogent thought with which I could agree! Mr Ricketts, if you’re so unfortunate as to be reading this mess, I implore you to end the 7th Inning Guest Conductor.

2. No matter how tempted you might be, don’t sell the naming rights to Wrigley Field.

SCENE: Tom Rickett’s Office

Tom Rickett’s secretary: Mr Ricketts, sir! There’s a little boy who looks like he’s been crying for weeks, and he wanted you to know that however much you are tempted, to NOT accept the biggest no-brainer in sports and entertainment complex history.
Tom Ricketts: NOT accept it?
TR’s Secretary: Not.
TR: Why the fuck not?

A lot of fans are really hung up about this issue and have vowed never to attend another game if the stadium name changes.

Really? You mean these idiots would just disappear? Forever? Don’t get me so excited, Carol. Any actual fans who would no longer come out to Wrigley to watch the Cubs because it’s not called “Wrigley Field”, well that’s precisely the type of “thinning of the herd” event that I have long dreamt about. And to think it would happen after the Cubs finally, after 100 years, appeared in consecutive postseasons. I’m downright giddy. They can’t get enough for the naming rights, in my opinion.

While I have suggested a compromise, such as ”Wrigley Field, presented by Gigantic Corporation X,” most people aren’t very open-minded about this.

Okay, let’s go back to Mr. Rickett’s office.

Ricketts: Who the hell asked this little brat for her fucking compromises? Who the hell is she?

Even if you told them that by selling the naming rights you could afford to add Derek Jeter, Albert Pujols, C.C. Sabathia, Brandon Webb and Ryan Howard to the roster, they still would be against it. Consider yourself warned.

Good god Carol. Now, seriously. Catering to the lowest common denominator of maudlin, snivelling sentimental goops of jellyfish will get you nowhere. Hell, I’ve long said I’ll push the plunger to blow up the place if it promises a World Series winner, and Carol’s gonna take to the streets about the fucking naming rights? Good god is this pointless.

3. I understand you lived across the street from Wrigley Field while you were in college. I wonder: Did you own a car at the time? If so, you probably experienced a bit of traffic crunch. But you were in college about 20 years ago, so here’s a news flash: The congestion has become worse, especially on game days. Consider lobbying the city to close down the major streets surrounding the ballpark permanently, creating an outdoor mall. You’d be doing everyone a favor.

Here’s a better idea. Why don’t you get rid out of your fucking Jetta? Or move.

4. When it comes time to renovate the park, don’t even think about changing or removing the center-field scoreboard.

What is it with Carol’s threatening “don’t even think about…” style? Seriously, why is she talking like Burt Young in “Rocky”?

Everything else is negotiable.

Except naming rights, and the fact that only a strict, literal interpretation of the lyrics to “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” be adhered to.

You can add video screens in the outfield corners, if you’d like. You can dangle a Jumbotron from a blimp over the infield. You can add luxury boxes, if you can find a place to put them. You can paint the seats red and blue to match the team’s uniforms. You even can sell advertising on the infield dirt and outfield grass. Just don’t touch that scoreboard.

Tom?

Ricketts: …this bitch fucking telling where the fuck I can and where the fuck I can’t put a fucking video screen, I can’t understand how the fuck…

5. No matter how cash-poor you might be feeling after buying the team, please don’t go the personal-seat-license route.

Let’s cue our old buddy John Murray, cuz It’s Gonna Happen! Seriously, I’m a season ticket holder and this sucks ass. Frankly, I would have preferred that, if we were going to have to fork over PSL’s, that it would instead be for new construction of a new goddamn park, not this paean to virtuosity that entrances idiots like Carole Slezak way beyond any useful comprehension. Also how does someone “feel” cash-poor anyway? Is that any different from actually being cash-poor?

That would be wrong on so many levels, starting with the fact that regular people would be priced out of the park. Single-game tickets already cost more than many folks can afford. Fans are excited the Cubs finally are getting an owner with a name and a face. (Sam Zell doesn’t count.) But it would be great if he has a heart, too.

PSL’s suck, but I just don’t like you taking up my case. I’m glad you’ve already wasted so many words elsewhere in this article so as to not accidentally rally everyone around in favor of the idea.

6. You probably have heard that President Obama is a big White Sox fan. Mayor Daley, too. Let’s face it: The Sox have you beat in this department. When time allows, you should look for a major politico to climb aboard the Cubs’ bandwagon. What’s that you say? Gov. Blagojevich is a huge Cubs fan? Oh, yeah, I forgot about him. Well, look at the bright side: You’ve still got Bill Murray.

What the fuck kind of advice is that? Seriously. Mosey up two two “politicos” including Bill Fucking Murray? What office has Murray been elected to? I’m pissed I didn’t get a chance to vote for him.

That paragraph might as well have been, “Dear Tom Ricketts. The following are the names of two famous people I know of who are Cub fans: Rod Blagojevich (oh noes!) and Bill Murray.”

Because you know, even though Carol herself acknowledges that Mr. Ricketts is a lifelong Cub fan, she could not assume that he didn’t know that Murray also was. If this article was a world of stupid, this paragraph would be the continent of Asia.

7. When it comes to the team, I’m hesitant to give you any advice.

Again. Aren’t you a “sports” columnist or did they officially transfer you to the style page? If they fired Susanna Homan, for this, that would just be sick.

It’s too soon.

When, exactly, would one give advice? After events take place?

I mean, I could share the reasons why I’d think twice about trading for Jake Peavy. And I could stress the importance of beefing up your scouting department. But you haven’t even closed your own deal yet. There will be plenty of time to discuss the team after you take control. Maybe we can meet someday over beers at Murphy’s. The first one is on me.

But I thought you was broke on account of you needing to refi your condo?

8. I’ve heard you met your wife in the bleachers at Wrigley Field during a game.

Poor Carol. You can just hear the longing in her writing. So many afternoons spent in the bleachers, alone.

What a great story. I’m already scripting the movie in my head. But first you have to win the World Series. If you can accomplish that, none of this other stuff will matter.

None of it? Including this column? Because I’ve already begun to un-realize it, even as I’ve been fisking it, thank god.

Good luck. There are about 900 million Cubs fans pulling for you.

Way to end, Carol. That sentence makes absolutely no sense. Fitting.

I should add that the headline for this article was “Best Advice: Just Win, Baby” which tells me that not even her headline writer bothers to read Carol’s half-baked efforts.