As you know, I’m not easily swayed. You can’t buy my opinion. You can’t go all Wes Mantooth on my and rub my bottom and tell me I’m special. I call the shots. I tell it like it is. Like old man Kush, my word is stronger than oak.

So if I say nice things about Kevin Kaduk’s new book Wrigleyworld, some of you might accuse me of only doing so because he saw fit to interview me for the book, said nice things about me and Desipio and slapped a big, fat free promo for Desipio right on the back cover.

Hey, I’m easy. But I’m not cheap.
Sometime in July last year I got an e-mail from Kevin. He explained how he’d quit his job as a sportswriter at the Kansas City Star, moved back to Chicago and was living on whatever advance he got to write a book about living in Wrigleyville for an entire Cubs’ season. He said the requisite nice things about me. Someting about funny, insightful writing and pretty eyes, or something, I don’t remember the whole bit. He said he wanted to get together before a Cubs game. I had but one last trip planned to Wrigley and it was in September, with Kelly Dwyer to see the Cubs and Cardinals. So we settled on that date. He’d buy me lunch, I’d regale him with funny yarns and deep insights.

And yes, I think I’m now officially the youngest person to have ever used the word yarn like that in a sentence.

That’s how it went. I probably asked him as many questions as he asked me. He’s still in his twenties and that seemed like it was probably some of the attraction for his publisher. Instead of sending a fat old man to Wrigleyville, if you’re going to figure out what the place is really like, you have to send in somebody the same age as the trust fund assholes and LP Trixies who live down there, too. I know, I know, they’re not all on trust funds. Never mind.

Kevin and I talked for a couple of hours. Kelly and his girlfriend showed up about halfway through, and when it was time to walk from The Full Shilling to the game, Kelly asked me what stuff I thought he’d use. I told him it’d be the stuff about being tempted to give up on the Cubs, but paralyzed by the fear that right after I bailed out they’d win and I’d miss it, and the retarded kid story. Apparently, I have a gift.

The book is a breezy read, which, I assume is the only way you could write a book like that and make it readable. We follow Kevin from before opening day, through the season, and to a White Sox World Series game. That’s apparently where he went all fiction on us. There wasn’t a World Series last year. Everybody knows that. It got cancelled, or something.

The book is about all those things sacred to the area around Wrigleyville. Drinking, scalping tickets, more drinking, chasing girls, drinking and trying not to accidentally stumble into Boys’ Town.

Some things he did more successfully than others.

My only real issue with the book is Kevin’s claim that he’s a fan of both the Cubs and Sox. We both know people like that. They’re fans of neither. They’re the kind of fans who say things like, “I’m just rooting for a good game.” Or, “Hey, it’s been almost 100 years since somebody won something, I’m not going to be picky.”

We’re the kind of fans who say things like, “You cannot beat them badly enough,” or, “I know it’s been 100 years, and if it can’t be us, then it sure as hell better not be them.” Is it petty? Is it immature?

Of course it is.

Sign me up. There are plenty of things to be benevolent and mature about. Baseball isn’t one of them.

But that’s a minor part of the book. There’s an excellent story about him and a buddy getting kicked out of a “rooftop” during a game. He chats up the ballhawks, and writes far too much about degenerate loser Ronnie Woo Woo for my taste.

But it’s the kind of book that’s uniquely Cub. We’re spoiled by the fact that our favorite baseball team plays at a place like Wrigley. It’d be nice to be spoiled by that fact and a few pennants, but we’re still waiting.

What Wrigleyworld is, is a good look at what the whole Cubs’ game day experience is like, from first pitch to last call.

I can’t be the only one who could give two shits that the Cubs have sold the “naming rights” to the bleachers, am I?  They’re not putting up a sign in the bleachers or anything.  If Bud wants to throw nearly a million bucks at the Cubs for the purpose of hanging a few signs in the dungeon you’re going to walk through to get to the bleachers, have at it.  In other news, the Cubs plan on holding a ceremony where they’ll present Mark Prior with one of the bullpen rubbers when he completes his record setting 300th simulated game sometime in June.

Teddy G. says that the Score is still going to talk about the Cubs.  Yeah, but why would anybody want to listen?  Tell you what.  Do what I did.  Get XM (or Sirius) and you’ll never go back to local radio.  Ever.  Trust me.  It’s better this way.

Sean Marshall has made the club and bumped Jerome Williams to the bullpen.  Next on the list, start spelling his name Shawon.

Dusty says that if Ronny Cedeno doesn’t hit better than he did this spring, he might have to go all Neifi on us.  But you know what?  If Ronny hits like he did this spring, I don’t see how you can blame the Dustbag for doing it.

Dusty says the Cubs are going to be good.  Well, what’s he gonna say?  I also like where Marshall compares the Cardinals to a AA team.  I think I could get to like this guy.

Greg Couch takes time from his ongoing fight to rid the world of scalped tickets, by starting a new fight to allow you sit in unnamed bleachers.

I’m not so sure that Jerome Williams “I don’t care as long as I’m on the team” attitude about losing a rotation spot is really all that healthy.

Jerry Crasnick (and Eric Karros) look at the Dodgers’ new first baseman.  Let’s hope he keeps that groin of his attached.

Hey, maybe Corey Patterson will get at least one “hit” this year.

America’s finest news source with a man that no canoe can hold.