Tedheads, We Have Forsaken You

Yesterday? Was that Monday? What do you mean it's Wednesday? What happened to Tuesday? This is not my office...and who are all you people?

Last thing we remember is Kevin Gregg getting the ball in the ninth. By that point, we'd consumed a fair amount of Sanka, Coffee, Bud Extra, and an entire "It's Tedsday" custom cake we ordered from Jewel (truth be told it was actually a "Happy Barmitzvah Sam!" cake that was on clearance for $5--we're clearly in a self-loathing period).

We woke this AM, with a bunch of holes in the wall, new "Angel Guzman" tattoos and bruises in the groin-al region that look self inflicted.

Yes, being a closer is a thankless job but it's you also get paid millions for pitching one inning (TLFC wonders aloud why closers are deemed 'cool' while NFL kickers are deemed 'dorks'?). In our mind, there are three categories of closers. In order of awesomeness, they go:

1) Mariano Rivera
2) Automatic: think Gagne and Hoffman in their prime
3) Everyone Else: hodgepodge of flash-in-the-pan periods ranging from half a season (Aardvark in Seattle) to a couple years of awesomeness (think Valverde).

Our argument in a nut-shell is that being a closer, except a rare few, is a no-win proposition. When you blow saves, you become a public pariah and need to put a couch in front of your door to keep irate drunk fans away; when you close games, you're just doing your job.

We think we have three years and over four hundred reasons to be the most upset Cubs fans from Tuesday, but we're not and we're sorry to disappoint but, in many ways, Kevin Gregg simply fulfilled his destiny in following the path that was laid by Johnny Drama Dempster from a few years back and Mexican League Joe. It's not his fault...really, it's fate.