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The Dawn of New Year

by

J. Bart Jones

Sponsored by Cluckbucket.com

March 31st, 2004

Dearest friends,

I greet you from my humble console in the heartland,
in anticipation of one of the most amazing baseball
seasons in all of my young life.

I'd like to extend a belated congratulations to
Chicago Cubs fans on their extraordinary
accomplishment in last year's NLDS and in capturing
the Central division crown.

I'm sure, even the most juicy, flavorful kielbasa
couldn't even rival the sweet taste that victory
afforded your palates.

It is true that not even Upton Sinclair himself could
have quite captured in words the sheer and utter
disgust I imbibed in watching the Cubs in the
playoffs, however, as a man I must admit that it is
irony and the salt of life that makes the world
colorful in the eyes of men.

That being said, the promise of this season's
brilliance is tantalizing.

The Cubs have added players this season, tinkering,
ever so slightly with what may be considered a "good"
product.

The last time Chicago tinkered with a "good" thing,
the Chicago-style hot dog was created. Anyone who has
had the privilege to eat a frankfurter in the place of
its birth, St. Louis, knows how delicious perfection
in its simplicity is.

The Chicago-style hot dog, is, without a doubt, the
Frankenstein of the lunch tradition. Overloaded with
promise in the form of tomatoes, poppy seeds, and tiny
peppers, it delivers little in the end but
disappointment and indigestion.

I'm sure many of you can relate to the analogy as you
watched the NLCS. The chance of playing in the series
slipped through your fingers like a jittery hot
tamale.

What disappointment you must have felt.

Will the '04 Cubs, then, in that same vein, (or
casing, if you will) fall victim to the same fate?

Will their fancy additions add to the flavor that was
such a tasty treat to you perogi-gobblers last year,
or will they fizzle and lie stale like a cold Miller
Lite?

As a Cardinal fan, I count, nay, I expect the latter.
As a Cub fan, can you expect any different? It's not
as though you and victory are as close as Latinos to
the hearts of your suburban landscapes. Victory
itself is as foriegn to Wrigley as lovely women are in
your cold, and windy city.

Perhaps the Cubs are the favorites to win the NL
Central, but let us be realistic for a moment. Do you
really expect that you'll win the division again?

Before the season starts, let me remind you of the
sign that greets you as you enter the Northeast corner
of the state of Illinois. "Welcome to Chicago".

This, of course, is the same Chicago that harbors your
favorite baseball team, the Cubs, the most inefficient
franchise in all of baseball history.

This is not by chance.

All your lives, as you've wallowed in the boggy mire
that is Chicago, a hysterical blindness characterized
by fanciful wishes, boisterous talk, and high-volume
haberdashery. Upon falling on your face at the end of
your season's long walk, you rise again, like a
chained and abused dog, oblivious in its anticipation
of its next beating.

As a Cardinal fan, I warn you of your most certain
impending, pain-filled fate.

Imagine me the brilliant golden retriever, barking at
you from the distance, "Ruff, ruff,... ruff!" ("Break
free of the Cub! Don a Cardinal hat! Follow me to
freedom!)

We may be light on pitching, predictions, and polish
sausages consumed by sitting, but we are, and remain
to be St. Louis, the home of the Cardinals, a team
who'll always be better than you.

Here's to you fools while you wait for your whoopin'
at the end of the day,

J. Bart Jones
A confessed dog lover

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"An Open Ended Letter to Cubs Fans"

by

J. Bart Jones

Sponsored by Cluckbucket.com

Thursday, October 16, 2003

Dear Cub fans,

The bitter distaste of letdown must, at this low
point, be utterly palatable.

I can't imagine the pain you must be feeling right
now. It must be as if someone has reached inside and
twisted and ripped at your guts as though a rusty
sausage grinder had churned your small intestine into
a delicious Cubbie kielbasa.

It has to hurt right now, but don't despair. Pull
yourself from the gutter, and dump the rest of that
warm, flat Old Style down the drain.

Dust yourself off. Collect your thoughts. Reflect on
the season that was. It was great, wasn't it? Why,
this season, you won the division, AND, you even
finished better than the Cardinals. Pretty impressive
stuff.

Of course, in 1996, the very same thing happened to
us. We were up 3-1 to the Braves, and we collapsed.
And last year, we lost in the NLCS, just like you did
this year. However, there is something very different
that separates us from you, no matter if you finish
the season 3 games ahead of us or 30 1/2 games behind.

We HAVE a chance. As a matter of fact, as I watched
the playoffs this year, I realized, as a Cardinal fan,
that we had just as good a chance of going to and
winning the World Series as you, and we weren't even
in the playoffs.

And frankly, the sole reason why, is because quite
simply, we are not YOU.

You're never going to win the pennant. You're never
going to win the World Series. Never. Ever. It is
as sure as seeing more fat girls than thin girls in
Wrigleyville, as sure as sitting in traffic for hours
daily, and as sure as saying "hola" to your Mexican
neighbor when you get home every night.

It's never going to get any better than this, you
losers. Just ask your dad, and your uncle, and your
grandpa, and your great-grandpa. Next time, when you
get together to drink Miller and eat kraut, you'll all
have something new to talk about: the most recent time
you almost won.

The next time I get together with my dad and my
grandpa, we'll have a Budweiser, and a pork steak, and
we'll talk about baseball, Jack Buck, and how great it feels to
win.

I'm sorry, Cub fans, but you have to see the writing
on the wall. Stop the madness. Get off the train.
Quit doing this to yourselves.

Get a Cardinal hat, and put it on. It's the closest
thing to winning you and your Cub family will ever
feel; and you can take that straight to the bank.

With my deepest sympathies,
I remain your nemesis,

J. Bart Jones
A St. Louis Cardinals Fan

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"Just Another July"

by

J. Bart Jones

Sponsored by Cluckbucket.com

Though not in current possession of a fully functioning watch, something deep inside tells me that the time has come to indulge in a greeting from the home of the only baseball team of the National League's Central Division that will be playing in the playoffs this fall.

The aforementioned place of which I am speaking is, of course, St. Louis, Missouri.

It's been a while since we've shared pleasantries, Cub fans, so I thought I'd take this time to catch you up on how the season has been going for us so far.

You of course know that currently, and, most likely, for the remainder of the season, the Cardinals occupy first place in the Central division, of which you ironically held for a surprisingly long time.

It is indeed a very impressive feat to occupy first place in a division in baseball when your record is near or barely above .500. Kudos.

However, during this time of medioricity in the NL's Central, the Cardinals stewed like a juicy polish sausage in a kettle of simmering, ill-tasting Northern-brewed beers.

Amist the onions, the peppers, and all of the other foul additions to the pot, the delicious Cardinals marinated. They produced offensively, and in large numbers.

Albert Pujols, the league's best player, bolted from the gates as though he were Secretariat, while Steroidin' Sammy Sosa corked his way to the glue factory.

Edgar Renteria, continued to delight baseball fans of all ages with his clutch hitting and charasmatic charm while Cubs SS #? languished in the amonimity that only medioricity can provide.

Jim Edmonds emerged as the league's leading home run hitter on a team that oozed offense like acne under the chin straps of Buffalo Grove, Hinsdale South, and Barrington High School football players.

Thus, here we are, back where we normally are... but wait, this time, Cubs fans, you're in second place.

Maybe being a Cub fan does have its rewards. In the most recent series against the Cardinals, a victory was achieved. I'm sure that provided for a happy celebration, filled with hastily brewed Milwaukee products and husky Northern-Midwestern women.

It is true that two Cubs will represent the North Side in the All Star game, of course, one going because of an injury to a more deserving player, but who's counting?

Surely not Cardinals fans, though five will be representing us.

Sadly, though, it is the act of counting that separates us from you every year. North Siders, please count on the fact that come fall, Sammy will reconvene to his home in the Dominican for a cork symposium with Ernest & Julio Gallo while the Cardinals embark on the playoffs again.

And maybe after this season is finished, we can count one more World Championship... that count will be 10.

I remain the Cardinal fan who holds on to the knowledge that we are better than you,

"Welcome Back Cubs Fans"

by

Bart Jones

Sponsored by Cluckbucket.com

(First, a quick reminder that cluckbucket.com is not responsible for any of the content that appears on this page, we are simply providing the medium for a loyal St. Louis fan to share his opinions.  This column is intended for mature adults who like things that are funny, and if you don't like it, quit reading it.)

Sometimes, in the spring, the very tactile nature of life swells to touch every available sense that the body could ever reach to produce, and coincidentally, the days seem longer, the weather becomes more accommodating, love makes its way into corners of your life, and baseball begins anew.

Even the most calloused person can't deny the remarkable swell of feeling that the spring brings, from Chesterfield to Chester, from Valmeyer to Valley Park, from Fairmont City to Florissant, from East Alton to Edwardsville, from Wood River to Webster Groves, from Bellfontaine Neighbors to Bellevegas.

Baseball is here again, Chicago, and guess what: We're better than you; again. It's not like this is a big secret, though. The only real surprise, Chicago, is your silence. Where have you been the last 3 years? The competition, the gusto, the repore, it's as absent from this rivalry as Sammy Sosa from drug tests. Chicago, over the winter, I've ventured down other avenues to find the spark of competition of where I might find the lost, burning fire of rivalry, but to no avail.

I scour the stat lines, and the web sites, looking for a sign that the Cubs want to continue to occupy the rivalry that has been so lopsidedly uncompetitive in the last years, but what have I come to discover? Eric Karros? Mark Grudzalanek? The addition of Dusty Baker would be impressive if he could bat or if varying degrees of felonious tax evasion were counted in the line score.

Nothing sparks my interest more than hoping that the Cubs will fade earlier than Alan Benes in a brother v. brother battle, and that this year, when all is said and done, and the Cards have won the division once again, they'll trail the Cards by more than 30 games, a feat they dubiously set last year.

And what does that speak of rivalry? Nothing. Calling this a rivalry is like calling "Chicago-style" a pizza, or like calling people who graduated from Downers Grove "classy". It's not right. Quite frankly, it's not prudent. 

Over the winter, we at the Cluckbucket received 0 Cardinal fan applications. What a disappointment. Personally, I liken this feeling to that of the proprietor of a toy store in a communist village. While our product that we hawk is as wonderful as a shiny red fire truck on Christmas morning, the gloom of Chicago is as imposing as a long bread line on a cold winter's day in Lenin's Russia. If it's pride that tethers you to this sinking ship, 

Chicago, at least do your best to tread a little water. Your Chicago style hot dogs are tasty; please cheer for them. Jenny McCarthy is hot, and she's from Batavia or something, and you rarely ever bring her up.

Chicago, you have a lot of things to boast about. Just forget sports, and please, forget the Cubs. See, if it wasn't for Chicago, there'd be no Casmir Pulaski Day, or a push for English as a second language in Illinois classrooms, and there'd be no rock n' roll McDonald's. There'd be no Aurora, no Gurnee, no Orland Park, no Park Forest, no River Forest, or River Park. Chicago, you've got so much going for you, you don't need the Cubs, you just have to look in your overpopulated, Latin-heavy, largely obese, suburban back yard that smells strangely like Eastern European boiled and fried foods to find a reason to gain the pride that the Cubs work so hard to strip of you over the course of the summer year after year after year.

Here's to seeing you losers in the rearview mirror come the end of June,

Message #3:

"The Final Message of the Year to Cubs Fans"

by

Bart Jones

Sponsored by Cluckbucket.com

(First, a quick reminder that cluckbucket.com is not responsible for any of the content that appears on this page, we are simply providing the medium for a loyal St. Louis fan to share his opinions.  This column is intended for mature adults who like things that are funny, and if you don't like it, quit reading it.)

I'll open this letter with a question that both the Cardinals and the Cubs faced at the beginning of the baseball season. It's a question we all ask of ourselves every morning we wake up, and it's a question that's faced man ever since free will graced the conscious of homo erectus.

I ask the question in this context: What's the point of writing this commentary, nay, factual account, on the status of baseball in the heartland, when a year from now, the Chicago Cubs will be exactly where they are now?

When Slammin' Sammy asked himself the question back in April, his reflection stared back at him and said, "Da es no point, unless you learn to pitch like Andy Benes, hit in da clutch like Renteria, and manage effectively like LaRussa."

As a Cardinal fan, I'd like to take the high road here and not even begin to remind you how disappointing, underachieving, and hideous the Cubs were this year. Next to the Brewers, they were the worst team in baseball. It really is remarkable when, at the beginning of the year they had so much promise. They had aquired Moises Alou! Why, they had Sosa, McGriff, and Alou batting in tandem! They had Jon Lieber and Kerry Wood in the rotation! They had the greatest young pitcher in the game in their farm system! Things really were going to be different this year.  

But… What's the point, Chicago?

Do you kick dogs when they are down? Do you go to bars and pay 4-5 dollars for a beer? Do you try to learn Spanish just because you're afraid your neighborhood is talking behind your back? Do you sit in traffic all day realizing your destination isn't really worth the hassle? Do you wear black even if you're feeling happy? 

Maybe you do kick dogs when they are defenseless. Maybe you go to bars and pay exorbitant prices for beer. Maybe you attempt to learn Espanol because you're afraid of your neighbors. Maybe you do sit in traffic all day and wish you were somewhere else. Maybe your closet is full of black clothes. We don't do those things in the Lou, though. We like dogs. We go to bars and pay for beers, but at competitive prices. We find no acceptable reason to struggle to learn a new language. We know little of traffic. We dress ourselves in colorful garments. We like to give people a chance. So, here's your chance, Chicago. 

Finally, your chance to turn things around has arrived.

Becoming a Redbird fan has never been easier, what with the Cardinals riding a wave of wins into another playoff birth. Just answer the following questions. Actual Cardinal fans will reply to your responses and help you determine your level of Cardinal fanship. In no time, you will be living a new kind of life. It doesn't matter where you live, because any man, woman, or child from any walk of life in any part of the world, can live in Cardinal Nation.

Directions: Answer each question to the best of your ability.

1. Which of the following is the better city? St. Louis or Chicago?

2. Who is a better shortstop? Ozzie Smith or Ernie Banks?

3. Who is a better outfielder? Stan Musial or Sammy Sosa?

4. Who is a better radio/television man? Jack Buck or Haray Caray?

5. Which is a better tasting beer? Miller Lite or Bud Light?

6. Who is a better first baseman? Jack Clark or Leon Durham (during his Cub days)?

Essay: In 100 words or more, describe your favorite Cardinal moment and the feelings that surrounded that very moment in your mind. Your answers to these questions will be analyzed by a panel of lifelong Cardinal fans. A response to your inquiry will be electronically mailed in a short period of time, and before the playoffs even begin, you too, can call yourself a Cardinal fan.  Email all essays to cluckbucket@cluckbucket.com

Wait another year, Chicago fans, and a similar fate will greet you in September. Don't delay the inevitable. Jump on the bandwagon. We don't mind a bit.

Recording Secretary, St. Louis Keeping it Real Foundation and Trust Co.

Vending Chairman, Cusamano Beverage and Spirits Corp.

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Message #2:

"Another Message to Cubs Fans"

by

Bart Jones

11 July 2002

Dear Chicago,

In writing this letter, I ask, how are things in your humble city? Does it smell there as badly as Sammy's inspired performance in the all-important Century 21 Home Run Derby? 

Do the sausage and peppers there taste as bitter as the realization that your team harbors nothing but go-nowhere talent that harnesses no more saavy than the Expos minus Lee Stevens?

Does the dilapidated Soldier Field resemble your hopes for a season that doesn't crumble and fall into the lake like the poppy seeds that tumble from your ravenous mouths when you incredulously devour your "Chicago style" hot dogs? (side note: Hot dogs were ironically introduced to the American public at the 1904 St. Louis World's Fair) 

Yes, yes, save your faded responses, but I'd hope these gaudy metaphors and sarcastic questions have helped you to realize that your city and its sports teams have all come to embody the new mantra of Chicago: "Welcome to Chicago, the Lake really does breed mosquitoes"

We here in the great city of St. Louis, have realized in the years of witnessing sporting dominance (at least when gauged against the windy city) that whilst our fair city may lack in Latino population, and a run-down and poorly managed zoo that charges its residents to attend, we more than make up in civic pride and sporting excellence.

While we mourn the obvious losses in our city's sporting culture, we carry on, with a lead in a the Central division. We are wounded and wary. The unwavering St. Louis heat and humidity hunts us like a hungry tiger, but we carry on. No Cardinal appears in the "All-Star" game, but we pay no mind.

Our responsibility is one that cannot be deterred. It is something that your city, Chicago, could not even begin to realize. We have to carry the flag for the Midwest. We have to do something that the city of Chicago has langushished in, and trudged along in since they were forced into the position in 1886 when they were rewarded with a railroad contract that put your sausage eating town on the map.

City of Chicago, Cubs fans, Sox fans, Bears fans, Fire fans, Depaul fans, Northwestern fans, Blackhawks fans, Bulls fans, please realize that your city is only as strong as its sports teams. It is true. We in St. Louis are living in a new Golden Age, and you can live in the joy that we experience everyday when we see Cards highlights or Rams highlights.

Denounce your fan-ship of the most sorry sports town in America. Join us on the streets of St. Louis, in a mighty bob n weave. Indulge in cold Busch beer and revel in the splendid swing of Edmonds as he takes a Cruz pitch deep to the opposite field. Savor a toasted ravioli and don a red Cardinal hat, while watching Placido make a diving stop to begin a marvelous double play. Turn up Nelly in your cars and talk about the marvelous Mike Shannon. Enjoy a cold iced tea and listen to KMOX on a hot summer day. Slap your non-illegal alien neighbor on the back and say in conversational English: "Did you see that Pujols game winning double last night?", and smile when he responds, "See it, I was there, let's have a Bud!" Write your rent or mortgage check for a considerable amount less, and glance at the television and see your favorite team WINNING for a chance. This is St. Louis.

Join the golden age. Become a St. Louis fan. Trust me, it's your best move.

Always,

J. Bart Jones

Director, St. Louis Summertime Keeping it Real Foundation

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Message #1

"A Message to Cubs Fans"

by

Bart Jones

"To all you Cub fans,

Welcome from Winnertown, USA, St. Louis, MO. Our zip code starts with the division and ends in the pennant.

Oh, to have our woes. Rotation wise, there is no dispute. We have the best rotation in the National League, that's even with Bud Smith in the minors. What do you have on the North Side? Donovan Osborne, backed by Kerry Wood whose shelf-life is that of unrefridgerated mayo over the course of the weekend.

Speaking as a true baseball fan, I appreciated the tug and pull the Cubs provided last season. It really was heartbreaking to see them slip near the end and fall out of the picture. We Cardinal fans were a little disappointed with our club's season. Yes, they made the playoffs... such an event would have called for a second Casmir Pulaski day in Sausagetown had the Cubs pulled it off... but we lost in the NLDS. That isn't good enough for a team with the kind of tradition and penchance for success as the Cards.

Yes, we turn out for baseball in STL. We love it. We know that we're good. More importantly, we know that we're better than you, Cub fans. Every year, you have to prove that you're better... that's why, more often than not, you fail. That's why we'll finish on top again this year... Maybe not the World Series, but I'll say it first,... we'll definitely be better than you.

Here's hoping you're dumb enough to take Veres in a deal,

Ron "Cey, can you spare a dime, I'm tryin' to catch a bus to St. Louie."

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