You may not need to know this

I thought I was all done fixing fonts and colors and layout stuff, but then a kind person told me how to add pictures.  That was many hours ago.  I'm almost satisfied now, but although I love this rainbow-and-tarp picture very much, of course I really wanted the Z-piggybacking-Fontenot shot to be my header forever.  I just couldn't get the blog title any color that would actually show up well, though.  It kept disappearing against Little Babe Ruth's hat or the lights.  I guess it wasn't meant to be.

Something else happened today, right?  Oh, yes - SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

Little Lord Fontenot

All my reasons for starting this blog, all my reasons for loving the Cubs, all my reasons for believing in the basic goodness of people and God and all that kind of stuff are expressed in the following image:

Yeah.  Oh, yeah.  (Seen in several places, but I think originally from here.)

"Who is this guy? What the heck is going on?"

As you may have noticed from my previous post, I'm back and mostly recovered from the wedding; my college classmates and I all disgraced ourselves pretty thoroughly.  I was welcomed home with some excellent Cubs victories yesterday and Sunday.  

It seems, though, that I missed an amazing moment before the game.  I've been informed that Mike Fontenot and Z have developed a new little routine in which Z pretends to hammer Fontenot into the ground like a spike.  As they were delighting everyone with this yesterday, Fontenot took it a step further and leapt onto Z's back to get a piggyback ride.  Of course I was overjoyed to hear this, but very sad to have missed actually seeing it.

Sensing my distress, my friend Jessie kindly took pity on me and provided me with this article from last year's Tribune.  Here's the most relevant part, with the highlights, well, highlighted:

Fontenot arrived too late to get an All-Star invite, though no second baseman in the league is playing as well as he is right now.

Fontenot hiked his average to .408 with a 3-for-4 afternoon and barely missed becoming the first player this season to reach Sheffield Avenue with his 415-foot, fourth-inning home run off Jason Hirsh.

"I didn't know short men could hit the ball like that," Zambrano said. "He hit the ball like a man, you know?"

Fontenot laughed at Zambrano's comment. Do people underestimate him because of his size?

"I don't know," Fontenot said. "Nobody ever comes up to me and says, 'You can't do this or that.' "

Whenever the 6-foot-5-inch Zambrano high-fives the generously listed 5-8 Fontenot, he puts his hand as high as possible to make Fontenot jump up, like a dog trying to catch a Frisbee.

"That's one of his things," Fontenot said. "I kind of like it. I just slap him on the forearm."

If Fontenot's forearm slap ever becomes as ubiquitous as the fist-bump, you will know it really is the Cubs' year.

"Hats off to Mike Fontenot," DeRosa said. "What he's doing, to come up here and hit .400, is unbelievable. It's not even fathomable, to be honest …

"Every third-base coach has asked me, 'Who is this guy? What the heck is going on?' He's in a zone right now, but when you look at his numbers, he has hit all his life."

I don't really have much to add beyond that.  "Generously listed."  I think that may actually be my favorite part.  Can he really be shorter than 5'8?  I believe the reporter is trying to imply that Fontenot is actually about five feet tall. 

In other news, I've got about three weeks left until I start Jesus School, and OH MAN, THE EXCITEMENT.  

This is really too much.

OH NO LOOK AT THIS RIGHT NOW

Michael Fontenot, who are you?  How are you possible?  Where did you come from?  Are we for-real married in that land?  Because if so, I will find a way to live there forever.  

We love you, Theodore

Technically I'm still taking a baseball break, but thank you, Lord, for Reed Johnson.  As a few different sources have informed me, while Mighty Mike congratulated Reed after his grand slam last night, our announcers made up a little conversation they might be having.  Len suggested that Mike was saying, "That's right, us little guys can hit them out of the park too!"  I like to imagine Fontenot saying it in a squeaky, indignant voice.  (To be fair, I have no idea what he sounds like; I don't think I've ever heard him interviewed.  I'm sure he has a very manly voice.  One would hope.)

I'll be out of town for a friend's wedding this weekend; enjoy the not-too-unpleasant-for-July weather if you're in Chicago, and go Cubs.

Also

As you may imagine, everything I just witnessed made my baseball life feel even more like a Philip Larkin poem.  Even with the ongoing Black Despair, though, I was marginally cheered up by Mark DeRosa's interview with Ryan Dempster in his blog.  If I were in a better mood, it would probably have made my whole week, especially the card game part.  

SIGH

I've entered a period of melancholy over the Cubs.  I'm acting fitful, nervous, and generally unpleasant to be around.  More than usually superstitious, also; I actually believe that my watching the games is negatively affecting their performance.  From time to time I'll come out of my room and dart through the living room, glancing at the score without turning my head.  It's deeply absurd.  

Secretly, I believe that staying on top of our division, let alone anything beyond that, will require a genuine miracle.  I imagine something very Biblical; possibly Jesus will descend onto the field and bat for us.  I keep reminding myself of John Updike's matter-of-fact line from his essay Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu: "All baseball fans believe in miracles.  The question is, how many do you believe in?"  I just tore a piece of paper out of my notebook, wrote this down, and put it in my wallet, because I want to remember why I love baseball.  

Of course, on my better days, it also says a lot to me about the non-baseball parts of life.  (Also, I was just reminded that even if we don't get Jesus on the field or some other variation on what we're all hoping for, this season has already had lots of gorgeous baseball and quite a few of those moments that make you glad to be a fan despite everything.  I'm thinking especially of our first game with the Cardinals, after which I said to my parents, "Right now, I don't care what happens in the rest of the season.  Seeing that was enough," and meant it completely.  I was probably delirious.)  Unfortunately, the angry, screeching monkey that has currently replaced my normal personality doesn't think much of any of this.  Possibly a baseball break is in order.  

To end on a lighter note, I should add that the only person exempt from this angst is Mike Fontenot, who makes me as happy as ever.  As I told my friend J. last night, he reminds me of a character from a children's book.  Or in her more awesome words, "He's like the Teeny Little Super Guy who lives in a juice glass...but this one hits home runs!"  So I'm going to try to calm down, concentrate on my imaginary marriage to Little Mike, and hope that all will be well.

Cubs dream update #2

This morning I woke up from a dream involving Geovany Soto, just as I requested.  But now I have a new question: why can I not remember a single detail about this dream, other than the fact of his presence, and maybe something about us...playing soccer? I think? while at the same time, I remember with much greater clarity the dream where I was married to Mike Fontenot?

Now, as I said before, I love Mike Fontenot more than life itself, but just so we're all on the same page here: this is Geo.  This is Mighty Mike.  I really do not need the vivid memory of his wavy blond hair in my marital bed.  (I'm sure my div school professors will be reading this entry someday.  Hi!)

My summer in baseball

Here are the games I've gone to, or will be going to if all goes according to plan, this summer:

1.) White Sox/Rockies on Father's Day.  I mostly went to see the Rockies, who I will probably always have massive affection for even when they play poorly.  They won.  I cheered for them, but only inside my head, because the fans on either side looked very hostile and I didn't want anyone to hit me.  I also didn't wear any of the nine million items of Rockies gear I somehow acquired during my time in Denver, but I'll try to be braver next time.

2.) A minor-league game the last weekend in August (I think): the Schaumburg Flyers vs. a team I believe is called the Gary South Side Railcats, my new favorite team name.  I love minor-league games so much, you guys.  If anyone in the Chicago area wants to go to another one, let me know.  And on an entirely different level of excitement:

3.) Cubs/Brewers, September 18th.  Okay, so my friend and I couldn't get tickets next to each other, but they're in the same general area.  Generally.  Now all we have to do is hope that "Reverend Zambrano," as my game companion called him recently, will be pitching.  But I'd be happy with Teddy Roosevelt Lilly too.  Well, frankly, I'd be happy even if it was Ryne Sandburg's minor-league team with the weird, creepy mascots - I just can't wait to be back at Wrigley.

"I was a little bit shaking"

Well, I would say a good time was had by all last night.  It was really nice to see everybody relatively relaxed and having fun, except for Terry Francona, who I thought might actually start ripping his hair out by the end of the game while Clint Hurdle continued blowing bubbles with his gum.  The dugout kind of looked like a clown car, with about a hundred players in there, and the cheerful inter-team conversations were fun to watch, whatever they may have been about.

I spent a lot of the game praying loudly that Carlos Marmol wouldn't pitch badly, because I feel like that would have destroyed his confidence forever.  I feel like so much is psychological with him; he looks so nervous a lot of the time.  Anyway, I was relieved that he did just fine, and that Z and Dempster put in a good showing.  Z casually lobbing that pitch over Manny Ramirez's head cracked me up, and apparently Rami as well.  Geo and Fukudome didn't hit anything but looked good behind the plate and out in the field, respectively.

The title of this post is a quote from Z about last night; in the same article, Geo says, "On a scale of one to 10, I'd rate it a 50.  It was awesome.  A better stage, you couldn't have."  I guess I can go along with him on that.