When you’re mildly insane like I am, many things can entertain you. At this weekend’s Cubs Convention, one of the things I liked the most was looking at some of the bums immortalized by fans with their own jerseys. As you can see in the photo, somebody actually bought a game-used Gene Glynn jersey. What, Dan Radisson wasn’t available? The Tom Gamboa one was still bloodied from a run-in with the Ligue’s down in Wicker Park?
The Cubs were selling “new” game-worn jerseys and a guy was holding a Wendell Kim jersey up to his son who couldn’t have been more than seven or eight and it looked like it actually might fit. I was very tempted to buy a game-used Paul Bako bat. As we know, the hits would all still be in that thing, but for $50 it just wasn’t funny enough. $20? You bet. $35? You’re pushing it. $50? Forget about it.
I want to know how much this guy
paid for his Steve Rain jersey! I should admit that the only Cubs jersy I’ve ever owned with a number on it was Shawon Dunston’s 12. Hey, I was 14 years old. Cut me some slack. Besides, if it still fit, I’d wear it.
But this is not the information you want from me about the Cubs Convention is it? All right, let’s get down to the good stuff. For instance, you want to know if the world’s most famous toothless, homeless, freeloader was at the convention?
What did you think? He was there all three days. He’s like herpes. You think he’s gone, but he’s never really gone.
The big Desipio get together at Kitty O’Shea’s on Friday night was pretty much snowed out. It ended up being me, Mike D., some people from Rockford we ran into, a guy he went to high school with and Dave Otto. We did however randomly yell, “Sloth!” at fat guys and I was nearly pummeled to death by at least four of them.
I must say that the relative success of the Cubs has caused the number of attractive women at the convention to rise to a more acceptable level. Sure, there were plenty of cows crammed sausage like into alternate jerseys that made them look like giant blueberries, but there was some actual talent at the convention, and only two of them were Ryne Sandberg’s daughters.
Hey, that wasn’t out loud was it? No, I didn’t think so.
There were plenty of celebrities at Kitty’s both nights, and on Friday I still had my camera with me so I got shots of both Barry Rozner…
and Tom “Table 10” Shaer…
congratulating Sharon Panozzo on the announcement that Chicago is getting a WNBA team. What is going on with her hat? Was she worried she’d get stuck in a snowdrift on the way up to her hotel room, and need the reflector to guide the rescue chopper?
You, our intrepid readers, have a hard time figuring out just how much crap I’m full of, so imagine how hard it is for my family? Well, the convention is actually one of my mom’s Christmas presents for my dad and somehow I get to tag along. So when we walked into Kitty O’Shea’s and I saw Len Kasper standing by the door, it was time to prove to dad that I’m not entirely full of crap.
So we went over and I introduced myself to Len, and much to dad’s surprise, Len really did know who I was. So I introduced him to dad and we talked about the convention and Desipio and if the Cubs can unload Sammy on anybody and the whole time dad just had this look on his face like, “I thought he just made all that stuff up?” So far, Len has dad’s stamp of approval. Not that it’s an exclusive list. My dad was once interviewed in the Farm Bureau newspaper and said that the greatest moment in his life was meeting President Gerald Ford. This caused much hue and cry among the family as we were wondering where his wedding day and births of his three kids ranked after meeting Jerry? To this day, dad claims he was misquoted, or at the very least the whole thing was taken out of context.
So the new list might look something like this:
1) Meeting Gerald Ford.
2) Meeting Len Kasper.
3) Marrying mom.
4) My sister’s birth.
…
1237) My birth.
1238) The time the pop machine kicked out two cans by accident.
1239) My brother’s birth.
There were some good moments from the convention, so instead of awkwardly trying to weave them into a narrative, I’m taking the easy way out and you’re going to just get them randomly.
– On Friday night we saw Mike Wuertz get carded at the bar. I wished I was the bartender, I’d have looked at his license and said, “Hey, is this your zip code or your ERA?”
– I gave Keith Moreland the “hook ’em horns” sign, (which we now know means bulls@#$ in sign language and is a sign of the devil in Denmark) and he walked over and gave me a “high two” where only our index finger and pinky touched as we were both still giving the sign. You’ve seen more graceful moves in the congratulatory line after a Special Olympics softball game.
– Karry Ling doubled the cost of our hotel stay by cleaning out the mini-bar in the room. I had no idea they sold Wild Turkey by the gallon?
– Karry’s still mad about Friday night. I made him repark the car every ten minutes to avoid getting ticket, and having to pay $37 a night in the parking garage.
– When you checked in at the convention they gave you a scratch-off card and if you won, you were randomly given a pass to an autograph session with a “major Cubs celebrity.” I won, and the lady in front of my got Billy Williams. Look, I love Billy Williams as much as the next guy, but I must have six of his autographs. Unless he’s signing a check, I don’t need the autograph. I ended up with some hack named Ryan Sanderbergen or somebody. He seemed like a nice guy, pretty quiet. He’s apparently opening a new restaurant or something called the House of Frankfurters that will open this year, because right under his name on the baseball he signed for me he wrote HOF ’05.
Actually, Sandberg did sign a baseball for me and I bought a bobblehead doll of his, which is lifelike in that it never stops smiling and has the same personality that he has. Mild.
– I’m not big on autographs and won’t just walk up to somebody and ask for them, but since there’s time to kill between the opening ceremonies and the SportsCentral broadcast on Friday night we went to the “Autograph Scavenger Hunt” thing. Basically you go to one of the designated autograph areas, get in line and then somebody shows up. Much to my chagrin, I ended up with Don Zimmer and Jim Frey. Yes, like Rafael Palmeiro, I was “Frey’d and Zimmered.” I did manage to get a dirty look from Frey by saying, “We’ll get ’em in game six” after he handed me the ball. Zimmer was just happy. I guess his hemmorhoids have cleared up.
– Frey announced he’d traded Lee Smith to the Red Sox Fan Fest for Calvin Schiraldi and Al Nipper.
I also gave you a 50-50 chance of guessing what was on Brett Favre’s TV on Sunday.
If there’s a stripper pole on the TV, then it was his daughter…practicing.
Dolan, you didn’t really say “We’ll get ’em in game six” to Frey, did you? That’s frigging hilarious.
Can I go to Scotland yet?
You just have to wonder what the hell Big Sharon was thinking with that outfit. I don’t even think a Butch would come up and hit on her it that get-up. That’s embarrassing.
Actually that that guy that we were drinking with went to high school with my BROTHER, not me. He was my brother’s best man and he’s about 6 years older than me.
Otto’s a 1982 graduate of Elk Grove. My oldest brother played high school ball with him. When he was a senior, Otto singlehandedly took the Grens to their only downstate appearance in school hostory, only to lose 1-0.
So you were basically being exposed to an impromptu Elk Grove High School circle jerk, Andy.
Dear Mr. Desipio, under the words “Leave a Reply” there appear the words, “Welcome back cubbiebluestew (Change)”. I don’t think that I am being overly sensitive when I say that I am offended by that order. You barely know me yet you feel qualified to tell me to change. Change what? My age? My height? My attitude? My lifestyle? When you approach perfection then you can suggest to me that I do the same. Until then I’ll thank you to keep your suggestions to yourself.
I really AM sorry I missed it. Shit.
It was a good time. Otto’s a good guy. He was struggling on Sunday morning during the “Down on the Farm” session (shouldn’t Max Armstrong be hosting that?) and his voice kept cracking. He just pointed at his throat and said, “Kitty O’Shea’s.”
He told me that he’s not sure if Comcast has hired anybody to do postgame analysis, but he knows they haven’t hired him yet. Given the horrendously bad Luke Stuckmeyer-Stacy King postgame for the Bulls, and no pregame, you have to worry.
My dad walked by Luke at the convention and I yelled, “Don’t get any Stuckmeyer on you.”
By the way, I saw Pat Boyle…he’s like 6’13. I had no idea. He’s giant.
And I’m disappointed that I didn’t run into Kerry Sayers or her ludicrously active right eyebrow.
Forgot about the Fratello bit. Could you re-send? AOL likes to get rid of mail after, oh, 12 minutes in your inbox.
Wanna talk dopes? Yours truly. I just figured out the “Spanish-Yes” line.
Hey! It only took me 18 months.
Tip for Andy. When yelling “Sloth” at fat guys, make sure they are rather tall.
FWIW, I respond to “Rabbi.”
Oh, I only yelled at tall fat guys. And that’s why I was nearly killed. I can beat up the short fat ones.
So I was apparently the Casanova of Kitty O’Shea’s Friday? I’m a real Don Juan aren’t I?
Did Don Juan ever get shot in the neck?
It is not your fault that you yelled “Sloth” at strangers, the reason he is called that is because of the number of toes he has. I assume, given the weather, all of the tall fat guys that you yelled at were wearing shoes.
KD?
It was on the Kings, and the fact that they were beat by 30 yesterday kind of, heheh, changed things. It’ll be up tomorrow.
Nice.
You’d better be nice to me, otherwise…
…well, you know what happened the last time someone slandered me?!?
I’m dead!
Chicago Bulls, 20-19. Discuss.
Why was I not mentioned in the article???????
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