Mister Faded Glory | misterfadedglory.com

You don’t know this, but the Cubs finally rebounded after that abysmal stretch versus Houston simply because I changed my viewing habits.

It’s true. I was obsessing, falling apart at the seams, practically turning into a BCB-message-board wonk. I looked toward the ledge nightly, before consciously making a decision to avoid the Cubs, checking in on the score late at night. Against St. Louis, they blew one, then won two.

After Drayton McClane painted the Astros into a whiny corner by refusing to bolt Houston, sending the media into an apologetic tizzy and causing Lance Berkman to burst into grease-ridden tears – Carlos Zambrano tossed his first no-hitter. Guess the shoulder is OK.  Don’t believe what Jayson Stark and Buster Olney tell you – the Astros could have ridden their hot streak by leaving Houston, presumably with families in tow, after Thursday’s game. They did not.

Then, Ted Lilly dominated the Astros, leading to another round of hand-wringing, complaining of the awful treatment MLB delivered Houston. (No one raised a fuss when the Marlins turned a home series into a road series in 2004 to avoid a hurricane. Only McClane steadfastly hoped to hold a series in Houston, ordering his players to stay in harm’s way in the city – the fuck you say? – and summarily forcing MLB to then find the closest dome to play the games. Karma’s a bitch.)

So I’ll be honest, with a hands-off approach, watching the magic number dwindle after its painful stall then became, well, actually relaxing. I even felt cautious optimism Tuesday night, fully expecting the Cubs to beat Sabathia. Apparently Chicago is the only NL team that can. (By the way, doesn’t Dempster have to deserve more Cy Young consideration than CC, after outdueling him? My vote is for Carlos Marmol. You read me.)

But even this afternoon, at work, I agonized, breaking my string and preferring to tune in via Gameday. A horrendous gamecast, at that – errors, Ks, double plays, walks to ever Brewer hitter and then some. The Brewers’ replacement-level pitchers had thrown 74 pitches into the eighth inning, Rich Harden threw 700 pitches in the first inning, the Cubs had all of three hits, and Jeff Samardzija and Mark DeRosa were doing their best to punt a close game, and the Cubs were down 4 runs in the ninth. I shut the thing off.

Ten minutes later, simply out of happenstance, I clicked on Cubs.com, cushioning myself that I would just check – in case a monumental, can’t miss rally occurred. I mean, I wouldn’t have believed what actually happened – next thing I know, you’ll tell me Bob Sanders is out for 6 games. (By the way, what the hell is with the Colts and injuries? Every starter but Wayne has been hurt over a calendar year, beginning with that gut-punch loss to New England last year. I mean, we didn’t even win that game! Tell me karma’s a bitch!)

You know the rest. 6-6. Cubs. Soto. Marmot. Kerry. Derrek. A savory win, one of those calendar dates you circle once the regular-season is over. Great win, unbelievable comeback, and deserving of its place alongside the two separate Rockies comebacks, the lengthy Mets duel in April, the sweet comeback against Florida, Daryle Ward’s comeback against Florida, Z’s no-no, and Hank White’s walk-off against St. Louis. Just wow.

Magic number is now 2. And this will probably conclude our intermittent Cubs wraps for the year. Tomorrow, Mr. Faded Glory makes a sojourn to familiar stomping grounds – New York City. Yes, we will be at luxurious Shea Stadium for the Cubs-Mets series, opening with a “Marquis” matchup on Monday.

Hopefully we’ll be relaxed. Hopefully the Angel Pagan 29 jersey doesn’t anger everyone in our section. Hopefully we’ll quit the plural-first-person. And hopefully we’ll talk to you next Monday.

More later.  Wow. Also,

Obviously Mr. Faded Glory is cautiously thrilled that Indianapolis eked out a surprising win against the Vikings to run the Colts’ record to a pedestrian 1-1. The Colts now have played precisely one solid quarter of football. That doesn’t bode well for the rest of the season. Well, not without rationalizing, anyway.A whopping four offensive line starters are missing, and during the team’s run of success dating back to 2003, the Colts’ O-Line largely remained intact. The impact of Jeff Saturday, Ryan Lilja and Jake Scott’s absences has temporarily killed the Colts running game – and its dearth is tantamount to the team’s success. No stretch play, no play-action, no counter-trap cutback. Without it, the Colts now rely fully on Peyton Manning’s passing game, and that doesn’t cut it. See 2000-2005 Indianapolis.

Until Manning sublimated his game, audibles, and allowed the offense to revert into a short, cerebral, running variation of the West Coast (ugh) attack, the Colts routinely faced ridiculous comebacks like Sunday’s. Never quite despite Manning’s chicken dancing – but certainly not because of it.

Still, we’re happy with a win. We knew it would take time to round the team into form, and injuries to Tony Ugoh, Dallas Clark and Bob Sanders also hurt the Colts. The injury report doesn’t feature enough lines for the Horsies, the linebackers may be an issue yet, and the D-Line (again) isn’t fully sold on stopping the run, issues we’ve seen in the past. Still, 1-1 for an unkempt team is fine.

Does that sound reasonable? I mean, I could teeter out onto the ridiculously subjective media whim, and offer the standard tripe. You know, like offer that Peyton Manning just ‘refused to lose.’

Please. National columnists actually get paid to write shit like that.

News flash – everyone refuses to lose. Reggie Wayne refuses to lose. Ron Meeks refuses to lose. I refuse to lose. You know what, sometimes it still happens. Are we to infer that Manning’s “will to win” was nonexistent during heartbreakers to New England and Pitt in the past? What would Brad Childress tell his team after the game? Sorry, guys, the one thing we didn’t account for was Peyton Manning’s desire. Yeesh.

Wins and losses reflect not simply of heart, but of execution, skill, talent, and often, even luck. Explaining it away as sheer determination is just complete cockamamie from the swirl of NFL media. But then, we’re used to that. Plenty of these guys bought into Jacksonville and forecast them for the Super Bowl. And by the way, we play them next. Better get right before then.

I say this not in 20/20 hindsight, but last night’s comedy of season-opening errors at Lucas Oil Stadium just didn’t feel right. From the very beginning, the Colts looked alternately rusty, uninterested, and totally out of sorts – and that was before the safety, fumble, botched big-plays and pass drops that plagued Indy in its opening-week shellacking at the hands of the Bears.

The stadium, first of all, is like a tomb. I don’t get the domed arenas in places that shouldn’t have domed arenas – and Indianapolis is the most recent example. The Luke combines Texas Stadium and Ford Field, and the atmosphere on TV is cryptlike. The gameplan appeared nonexistent on both sides – and where was Jim Caldwell or Ron Meeks? Never saw ‘em.

Manning reverted to numerous plaintive sighs and chicken dances, Bob Sanders mostly flexed his muscles, and though Marvin Harrison appeared more emotional than ever – he made more mistakes than ever. Just a bizarre, off-kilter night.

Granted, it’s week one, but Indianapolis already has its work cut out for it this season. Manning was predictably rusty, but still effective. The offensive and defensive lines, however, were blown off the line of scrimmage by each Bears unit repeatedly. With only two starters on the Colts’ O-line – Tony Ugoh and Ryan Diem – the second-stringers pass-blocked fairly well. However, the Colts ascended to recent success because of their transformation into run-first team – and the line couldn’t handle the Bears. Neither Joseph Addai nor Dominic Rhodes had any running lanes all night. In the passing game, even on slant and gos, Manning, Harrison, Wayne, and particularly Anthony Gonzalez looked out of sync.

On the flip side, the Colts front seven made the Bears look like All-Stars. For all Madden’s blustering about Dwight Freeney, the Bears’ O-Line – not exactly a whole unit itself – manhandled not only Freeney, but also Brock, Thomas – and Robert Mathis wasn’t mentioned till late in the game. Despite one massive hit, Bob Sanders played a poor game, and Antoine Bethea missed tackle after tackle. If the Bears looked this good (Granted, replacing Grossman and Benson with actual pulses was a great move for Chicago), imagine the slippery Colts facing Adrian Peterson, Chester Taylor, Maurice Jones-Drew and Fred Taylor in the next two weeks. The Colts have to figure some things out, and fast.

And certainly, they have the capability to do just that. Maybe Bill Simmons will be proven right – as the Colts attempt to assimilate all these missing, moving, or recovering parts,  they may struggle before righting the ship. On to Minnesota, where they’ll face a fairly ferocious defense – although, like the Byron Leftwich/Jax years, the Colts will be spying Peterson with Sanders, and daring the Vikes to throw for the win. And we’ll see what happens.

Still, our rival faces a much more daunting task than we, even though they are 1-0 and we are 0-1. Too bad for Tom Brady and Patriot Nation. I, for one, prefer to beat those guys when they don’t have an excuse, and prefer to see America’s sweetheart whimper and pout from the podium. Today, the national media wrings their hands, but, as always, injuries happen. (For what it’s worth – I can’t believe Bernard Pollard’s hit is even questioned. Practically tackled by Patriot Sammy Morris, Pollard only blitzed. I also can’t believe he won’t shut up – it wasn’t an accident! It was legal, unfortunate, and too bad! You’re sorry – quit incriminating yourself in front of bleating bobbleheads.)

But today, the Colts face a myriad of questions. The Patriots, conversely, face one large, haunting question. And perhaps, somehow, some way, when three teams appeared so certain as the NFL’s bourgeois – maybe the world has changed. And maybe, it’s two good runs come to end. Maybe.

Maybe. I know blown saves, and weird luck, and snatching defeat from the jaws of victory is bound to happen a few times this season, but the Cubs lost a game against the woebegone Reds today when Ronny Cedeno botched a double-play ball.

I don’t mean to harp on Cedeno – in a spot start spelling Ryan Theriot, he knocked in a go-ahead run … but giving two away in the ninth is inexcusable. We could see Lou mouth “Fuck me” after it happened, and then, predictably, the Reds singled against a drawn-in infield. Hopefully, however, the slump is over, the magic number reduces (Like it matters, it’s going down to the wire, with four teams battling for three spots.) and the Cubs put a terrible week behind them. Onto St. Louis, and then Houston, and then Milwaukee comes to Wrigley. Maybe battling their chief NL rivals will inject life into the Cubs. And maybe the worst is over, but who could possibly know?

Side note: I’ll be on the road for my real job most of this week, traveling to lovely Eastern and Southern Colorado. I should still be checking in, but posts may be sparse. Just so you know.

Whenever the end occurs, until the end occurs, we will (gulp) be here. I guess that’s baseball.

Biggest win of the season.

Was it me? Did I do this? I went out of my way this year, to temper everything! When everyone printed playoff schedules or percentages, i looked the other way. Am I the jinx? Was I too confident?

But it was that column, right?  That’s how I did this. I hope it didn’t come across as an insult of Joe Posnanski. I didn’t mean it that way. Too cocky, right? Maybe too incendiary? I don’t believe in curses. Or any of that stuff, it’s a stupid game. Isn’t it?

Is this some sort of lesson? Or about the fallacy of statistics, and chance, and run differential? I’m the one who writes that numbers lie, for crying out loud?About taking this stuff too seriously? I know that already. About feeling sorry for myself? Look, I’m as mad about this stupid obsession as anyone! Is it karma? Because I have tickets in two weeks? I know, I know, I need to start that summer reading list. Or is this just further proof that life is cruel?

Look, if it was me, I take it all back. I can do that, right? I’m panicking now, see? I’m alternately catatonic and frantic. Look at this hand! It shakes! I can barely type! Who am I talking to?

I’m in the bargaining phase, right? Just past denial? Denial was earlier this week, then, when I’d actually seen us score a run.

So next is acceptance. And that’s the problem. I won’t accept this. I’ll keep vacillating, as long as there exists a chance. Hope.

But right now, I just can’t handle this. I can never handle this. If it was me, I’m sorry. I’m sorry to you. I’m sorry to everyone. I’m sorry, I was wrong. I still am. But I learned my lesson. Honest! Point taken. Right?

Please send help.

Without further ado, I present to you my NFL prognostications. A lot of work goes into these – random suppositions, picking against The Big Lead, scouring a certain friend’s Fantasy Team, which has a knack for randomly selecting breakout players. Then it’s a survey of media sites and blogs and a final peek at FO’s DVOA to make sure I’m not totally insane (or to see just how much I disagree with a superlative forecast for Tampa) and a harvest of my own anecdotal evidence and healthy Colts pessimism.

What we don’t necessarily include is evaluation of each team’s game-by-game schedule. One only had to tune into Mike and Mike during the last few weeks, listening to the pair cycle through each team’s slate and forecasting a final record. One problem – and this always harms Footall Outsiders as well – Strength of Schedule is a terrible metric. Going into the NFL each and every season, no one knows who will wildly swing from competent to terrible and vice versa. Measuring a team’s schedule strength based on last year’s results is then pure folly.

Hmm. I guess that was some ado. Here goes.

AFC East

1. Buffalo. This is why you visit MFG.com, right? Either half-baked analysis or intense Patriot hatred, and sometimes both. Before bolting for Toronto, the Bills will win the AFC East in the most boring fashion possible, ultimately earning a tiebreaker against the Pats, probably because they switch midseason to their throwback unis, riding a wave of uniform karma to the title. No-name defense? Mediocre offense? Dick Jauron? No problem. Welcome to a brave new world, Buffalo. Ceiling: 10 wins.

2. New England. I know you’re rolling your eyes, and the answer is: Yes, I would rather pick against the Patriots than make a reasonable bet. At some point, the decline is going to happen. The Patsies have played in the NFL’s most pathetic division, year after year, a fact always overlooked while their success is attributed to either boastful veteran savvy (whiteness) or Sir Tom Brady’s eminence. This year, however, the defense is old and overexposed. The offensive line is somewhat decimated, and at some point, the Pats will hiccough. Why not this season? Fun fact: Now that Jim Edmonds is a Cub, Tedy Bruschi is my least favorite human on the planet. Ceiling: 10 wins.

3. Miami. How much of 1-15 can we attribute to Cam Cameron? I mean, that was an awful coaching hire after an initial awful coaching hire (Nick Saban). Talent wins out in baseball – in football, a blockheaded coach can kill even the most stout team. Things are better now, and by any comparison, Miami should improve by leaps and bounds. Such as it is. Ceiling: 6 wins.

4. New York Jets. Favre notwithstanding, signing piecemeal over-the-hill veterans as your core is a recipe for disaster. Ask the 2001-2006 Washington Redskins. Ceiling: 6 wins.

AFC Central

1. Pittsburgh. I’m not sold on any of these teams, but Pitt is solid, they’re always solid, and they select and develop players who fit their system. Novel concept. Ceiling: 11 wins.

2. Cleveland. Everyone and their mother projects an immediate downturn for the media-darling Browns. As the sole prognosticator not surprised by Cleveland’s success last season – remember, I tabbed them for the playoffs – I’m not quite as harsh. And they may have actually made the playoffs, if my favorite team (the Colts) hadn’t thrown game 16, handed Tennessee a playoff berth, and wrecked their own karma in the process. Still sporting a dynamic offense, Cleveland may experience a game-or-two slide. Ceiling: 9 wins.

3. Baltimore. I can’t rationally discuss this crappy team without delving into minutiae of The Wire, so let’s just move on.  Ceiling: 5 wins.

4. Cincinnati. Yes, this is a crap team, an awful franchise, and the uniforms are hideous. But how phenomenal is Chad Ocho Cinco’s name change? Sure, he’s a diva and a nutjob, but any time the holier-than-thou, baritone-voiced, bureaucratic ultraserious NATIONAL-FOOT-BALL-LEAGUE suits are served a bowl of ‘them apples,’ I heartily approve. What can I say? I’m a rebel. Ceiling: 4 wins.

AFC South

1. Indianapolis. In previous years, we approached Indy with wariness, always wondering when salary-cap hell and/or age would snake-bite the perennial contender. Facing the toughest schedule in the league (Like that means anything) and with an offensive line suddenly rife with questions – notably Team MVP Jeff Saturday’s injury – this could be the year. Could be. But the Colts are again whole on defense, better and deeper at skill positions on both sides, improved on special teams, and last I checked, they still employed Bobby, Peyton, Dwight and Reggie. They’ll be OK. Also: Bob Sanders does not care for your pessimism. Ceiling: 11 wins.

2. Houston. This is the toughest division in football, but this is my sleeper team of the season. The Texans will win ten games and advance to the playoffs. Lock it up. I was wrong about Mario Williams years ago, and I’ve been sold on Houston’s strategy to catch the Colts by drafting only the best on the D-Line. Now, they have one of the best front seven in the NFL. Matt Schaub is competent, Andre Johnson is all-world, and for this team, it’s time to think playoffs. Ceiling and reality: 10 wins. Book it.

3. Jacksonville. I’m sorry, it’s just not happening. Sure, they’ve got a talented defense. (They’ve always had a talented defense.) Sure, they’ve got a chip on their shoulder. (They’ve always employed surly boneheads who frazzle under pressure.). Sure, Fred Taylor and MJD are a killer running-back tandem. (They’ve always had good running backs) Sure, they finally jettisoned Byron Leftwich. (They still call Chief Meathead Jack Del Rio head coach) And sure, the Colts look out of sync and face a “tough” schedule. (The Jags still play in a division with three teams who know exactly how to beat them – sell out to stop the run.). Window slammed shut before anyone knew it was open. A crying shame, I know. Ceiling: 9 wins.

4.Tennessee. Maybe a trainwreck of a season will finally prompt the Titans to update their uniforms. Ceiling: 7 wins.

AFC West

1. San Diego. Lucky for Norv, he’s in this woeful division. Ceiling: 13 wins

2. Denver. Second place by default, because I’m not sold on any moves they’ve made in the last four years. I don’t believe Jay Cutler is the real deal, I don’t even believe he’s better than Matt Leinart. Run-blocking, blah blah, altitude, blah blah – you know what? FAIL. Ceiling: 7 wins.

3. Oakland. Please. Ceiling: 5 wins.

4. Kansas City. Pro sports life is painful in the City of Fountains. The Chiefs are rebuilding, the Royals perennially rebuild, and an irrelevant NBA team springs up in neighboring Oklahoma City, of all the insults. (With a disastrous logo.) It was the right move to binge and purge the aging roster last year, even though it’s cover-your-eyes awful now. In a couple of seasons, we’ll see how it all works out. Ceiling: 5 wins.

NFC East

1. Philadelphia. After gelling toward the end of last season, developing a deeper offensive line, and still boasting a stout defense with the league’s best secondary, I think the Eagles return to the class of a brutally tough division. McNabb will have his best season in a while, and Andy Reid will outcoach Wade Phillips, Jim Zorn, and Tom Coughlin. Wow, that was supposed to sound like a compliment to Andy. Ceiling: 11 wins

2. Dallas. Earth to anyone tangentially connected to football: Wade Phillips is still the coach of this team. Adam Jones will help the secondary, I like the offensive line and rushing attack, and Demarcus Ware is a beast. Easily the next-best team in the NFC, but they limped into last year’s finish, and I’m not quite a believer. Ceiling: 11 wins.

3. Washington: Quick, how many Monday Night games? This might be the only team which makes Tony Kornheiser palatable – and it’s because he’s at least tangentially aware of D.C. football (The Zornado!). Ceiling: 8 wins.

4. N.Y. Giants. Remember My White Whale, a season three episode of Scrubs? Elliot tires of Dr. Kelso picking on her interns, an extension of his contempt for her. During rounds, Elliot sticks up for a clueless intern, but Dr. Kelso continues to rip on the poor kid, asking him, Son, is there anything you do well? The kid promptly counters: I’m a pretty good beat box. Elliot interrupts, but Kelso prompts the kid to continue. To which he does, offering a steady stream of human bass noises, beats, spits, and motions. “He’s got fluid.” Dr. Kelso frowns, perplexed. Young man, begins Dr. Kelso, turning red. He stops and sighs, weary. Enjoy your moment, he says, relenting, and walks off. That’s the Giants improbable Super Bowl run. Enjoy your moment. Ceiling: 8 wins.

NFC North

1. Green Bay. LIke I said during the Brett Favre fiasco (Debacle? Brouhaha?), the Pack is loaded at nearly every position with young, cheap talent. Even if Aaron Rodgers is a step back at quarterback — which I can’t quite believe, because Favre’s last few years were horrendously overrated – enough juice surrounds him to warrant a division title, even if Rodgers joins Boller, Harrington, and Akili Smith in the Jeff-Tedford-Failure-Club. Ceiling: 10 wins.

2. Minnesota. Tarvaris Jackson. Tarvaris Jackson. Tarvaris Jackson. His is the visage Vikings fans will see in their sleep come December, if they narrowly miss another  playoff berth. This could be a good team, but I have no confidence in their coach or their QB. Really, what stops them from signing Daunte Culpepper? Isn’t that a no-brainer? Ceiling: 9 wins.

3. Detroit and Chicago. How bad is it in the northern Midwest? If these two fucking teams merged, neither could make the playoffs in any division. Except the NFC West. Ceilings: 5 and 6 wins. You pick who.

NFC South.

1. New Orleans. I seriously wrote this preview once, completely done, except I forgot the NFC South. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for any of these teams. The Saints’ offense is the best in the division, and though I’m done killing the Texans for the Mario Williams pick, I’m not ready to give up on Reggie Bush as a featured back. Even if Bush turns into, at worst case, Eric Metcalf or Ronnie Harmon, that’s pretty good. I still think he’s better than that. Ceiling: 11 wins.

2. Tampa Bay. The Jekyll and Hyde of the NFL, the Bucs remain stuck in a rut of posting disappointing seasons between surprising playoff runs to a No. 3 seed, followed by a first-round loss at home to an NFC East team. Scheduled for Mr. Hyde this season, I see no reason to forecast otherwise. They’re the 1980s Milwaukee Bucks, stuck in limbo between rebuilding and contending, vacillating between both. Ceiling: 7 wins.

3. Carolina. Quick! Raise your hands if you shrewdly forecast Carolina as a surprise Super Bowl team, for the fifth straight season since they were a surprise Super Bowl team! Only hundreds of you? Some memories never fade, no matter how many forgettable seasons the teal-and-black attack posts. Ceiling: 7 wins.

4. Atlanta. Worst team in football. It’s nice when they are irrelevant, because it’s extremely annoying when Atlanta is good. They have no fans, their stadium is awful, and everything about this franchise screams “USFL.” Ceiling: 2 wins.

NFC West

1.Seattle. Speaking of teams primed for a big fall … the Seahawks tend to tread water and still meander past Wild Card weekend every season. Their receivers are terrible, they have only a few playmakers on either side of the ball, but come on, who else would you pick in this division? Ceiling: 11 wins.

2. Arizona. After 5 years of all you fuckers (Who the hell am I talking to?) leaping onto the Cards’ bandwagon as a ‘sleeper’ team, only to watch the Cardinals fail, this year, finally, no one believes?  Well, I do. Whether Warner or Leinart starts under center, the Cardinals will finally become competitive this season. The line is improved, the defense is better, and, seriously, look at this division. Ceiling: 9 wins.

4. San Francisco and St. Louis. Remember that heated rivalry in the late 1980s between the Montana-led 49ers and the Everett-led L.A. Rams? This is the veritable opposite, the nadir to that peak of California football history. I’m not sure if Scott Linehan or Mike Nolan will be fired first; but I am certain that team assembled from Lions and Bears players would thump the team comprised of these two franchise’s best. Ceilings: 4 wins each.

Not that I’m joining the rabble of conservatives eagerly slapping high fives after VP nominee Sarah Palin displayed effusive charisma (at least more than expected) during her speech last night. I simply wanted to write that headline. Hee!

Nor am I among certain insecure louts or bobbleheads who worry about Palin’s family and marriage and all that stuff, or chauvinists who call her shrill. Or old-boy proponents who lock themselves in the bathroom of their ivory tower and a copy of her Vogue mag article, thrilled to find a polished, eager young upstart within a cantankerous party of fossils. To read the media today, you’d think a seismic shift in voter zeitgeist occurred after Palin‘s address. News to them: it hasn’t.

I simply marvel at the swoon, swell, and circus following convention moments like these. This was a VP speech at a political convention. Everyone’s speeches, so far, at these two conventions, have apparently been AWESOME. Obama, Biden, Palin, Clinton, Giuliani, Michelle Obama, other Clinton – everyone is FREAKING FANTASTIC. Always, it’s JUST WHAT THE PARTY NEEDS. (Unless it’s Mark Warner’s snoozefest.) And again, predictably, last night, Tina Fey Sarah Palin was AMAZING  – and now the Democrats should be worried, writes Slate’s John Dickerson. Please, people.

Convention speeches always are absurd pie-in-the-sky pep talks, rousing a party and whipping up frenzy. To debate and analyze the content and delivery ad nauseum is a complete waste of time. It’s a political convention, designed to spark either party;s elite before the fall. The cheers and rallies aren’t exactly political mandates, binding contract, or sermons on the mount.

Secondly, Palin is a VP nominee. How is Sarah Palin going to damage a presidential ticket, either hers or Obama’s? Have you, as a voter, ever really cast a ballot based on the VP race? I know I haven’t. In what year has the VP choice ever really mattered?

As a voter, you don’t a choose the ticket as a sum of parts – you choose for one leader. You vote for one office, the president, and the head candidate. Sure, it’s nice if the VP happens to be a capable policy champion, but it’s not necessary he even comprehends policy in the least.

It’s simply astonishing to assume this VP choice is any more important than years prior, just as it’s counterintuitive to assume voters weigh VP candidates as eventual presidents. In no way, in no election is the choice of a backup paramount to the choice of the ACTUAL commander-in-chief who will, presumably, govern. Ludicrous. It’s a mistake as a voter, to “stockpile” a prez choice just in case we might see them later. That’s like pulling Carlos Zambrano after six innings, saving him for a possible game four. But you knew that.

Tongue-in-cheek is better than the ol’ fork-in-the-eye, right? But I lived through that disastrous Colts year, way back in 2002. I guess I’ll live through the Cubs’ recent bump in the road. So will we all.

Friday, the Cubs can win that next game – their most important of the year.

Relax, take the day off. NFL Preview tomorrow.