Sunday notes

* C.C. Sabathia is a hulk of a man, a beast of a ballplayer. We know very well the power and electricity that may flood from his left arm at any given moment, and random night. What we weren't so aware of is the pop that drips from his hefty, swing-from-the-heels stroke, which he put on display in rare fashion at Dodger Stadium Saturday afternoon. It was clearly a one-man show for the Cleveland Indians while their Big Guy was in the game, Sabathia pitching his way through the scorching afternoon sun, striking out ten in seven innings and his only blemish being a Matt Kemp solo home run in the sixth inning. Sabathia had to provide his own offense as well, but sometimes that happens when two offensive-starve clubs face off. That was fine with Sabathia, as he launched a fastball 440 feet in his first at-bat against Chan Ho Park to give his team the early lead.

In the end, Sabathia had nothing to do with the outcome, as the game went 11 innings, with Cleveland winning 7-2. But sometimes sports provide comical moments to counteract the heart-wrenching sensations, and to not enjoy them is like eating the first half of the world's greatest burger. You have sunk your teeth in and now understand the main part of the fuss, what makes it so great, but then you stop there. You leave the half with all the fun on the table. Sabathia's ten strikeouts was typical C.C. and is his protocol, but they weren't necessarily more entertaining then watching his lethargic home run trot after greeting Chan Ho Park with his best wishes from Cleveland.


* In case you aren't paying attention, we need to flash our light on what is going on at Wrigley Field right now. This series between the Cubs and White Sox may be the most exciting two days of baseball by far in 2008, but that is not really the point here. The Cubs continue to win, to the tune of baseball's best record, making the NL Central the dirty laundry churning and sloshing in their washing machine. There hasn't been much left in their wake other than a steady path of destruction, but that really isn't the point either.

Aramis Ramirez is starting to hit like Zeus would if he graced a batter's box, and Derek Lee is still the slugger that Cubs fans see in their dreams-- the complete hitter that strokes baseballs rather than hits them, that effortlessly lofts the baseball out of the park, rather than yank it. But what really is beginning to become apparent around this Cubs team is the attitude and confidence-- not only of the team itself but of the city, the fans, everyone else who may pick up a Chicago-based sports section on any given morning and read the latest ballpark happenings.

The Cubs are beginning to build an aura and mystique that is typical reserved for the franchises that make their name by winning, not by infamously losing. When the Cubs put a nice, crooked 9-spot on the board in the fourth inning of Saturday's ballgame, back by four home runs in the inning, the indelible mark that is baseball's magic was officially stamped on this team.

How can you tell? Simple, you just have to look at the things that are happening, beginning with Jim Edmonds' monster day. Edmonds led off the fourth inning with a solo home run to left center, and then as the Cubs batter around in the inning, contributing to Ozzie Guillen's next heartache and inevitable tangent, Edmonds provided another shot to the same spot-- his second of the day, second of the inning.

Look, Edmonds' numbers are not great this year. He is hitting .238 with 5 home runs in 2008, and his stroke in San Diego was the 405-Freeway running through LA during rush hour-- stuck. His swing wasn't slow or slower, just stuck. But something has happened to this man since putting on the blue pinstripes, and he ha been quite productive in his last ten games. Is he going to hit .320 in the second half with 15 home runs? Probably not. But he has certainly contributed to the newfound moxie in Chicago that is giving these fans reason to believe.

Aging players decline because their careers are coming to an end-- it is not something to really talk about, it is simply the facts of life. But when a seemingly-finished player resurrects himself and begins to look like his shadow from ten years ago, there is something in the air other than oxygen and carbon dioxide. These are the things that happens when a team is just mean to be, destined if you will. Out of the box decisions are made and they all pay off. Performances rise to the top that couldn't be predicted by the top experts, and that is what keeps drawing us back to sports. The agony is strenuous, but the love is easy and replenishing.

We may be creatures of habit, but were aren't gnomes or robots-- we want to feel alive, we want to feel the flesh of athletes, the blood of the competitor, the unequivocal voice of the crowd, the heartbeat of an entire city. If nothing else, that is what these Cubs are brining us this season, and it just can't be denied, even if you aren't a tried and true member of the Wrigley Bandwagon. Could this just be me making more out of a few exciting days at the ballpark than what it really is? Sure, but not likely. This really isn't about the last two days. This is about the first half of this season for the Cubs, and more importantly, the direction in which their second half is headed. Funny things happen in this game, and you just know where this club is going because they are a bit out of the norm, too big a part of such a great story. It's not a white or black issue, but you just know.


* This is the Vladimir Guerrero that the Angels have been waiting for. You know those things that hurt even to watch, I mean, you feel the pain and you are sitting on your coach at home? That is how it has appeared the last couple of years with Guerrero when he walks to the plate, his bat acting as a cane as much as it is his weapon, his executioner. The days from running on the cement that was the turf he played on in Montreal have caught up to him, or so we are told. Well, worry no longer, Guerrero is flashing his powerful swing again, attempting to make baseballs into dimpled golf balls at a ballpark near you.

Vlad has crushed three home runs in the last two games as the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim have gone into Philadelphia and knocked the first-place Phillies right off of their NL East power perch. With his last two games, Guerrero is now hitting .290 with 13 home runs and is complementing the Angels strong pitching like the last couple middle pieces of a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle, completing the award winning picture and finally being able to send it in for evaluation.

The Angels have gotten their ace back in John Lackey, and in the mean time Joe Saunders and Ervin Santana, the life jackets of this season's ship, are relishing in the process of producing career years. Saunders won his 11th game on Saturday, a night after his counterpart Santana won his ninth, and both men should be representing the Angels at next month's All-Star game in New York. Francisco Rodriguez is pleading guilty to three counts of Baseball's Best Closer, and he notched his big league best 29th save on Saturday night.

But with the array of injuries and early-season struggles blanketed over Angel Stadium early this season, the Angels have been what every balloon loathes of being-- filled with helium and a weight tied to the bottom of the string. That weight was cut off and this balloon was lifted to the blue and white canvas above once Guerrero began hitting, Howie Kendrick and Chone Figgins returned, and Torii Hunter arrived on the scene. We never knew exactly what this club was capable of until now. For once this season, we can finally make an assessment on what may be coming out of the AL West, and Guerrero and Co. are taking it all in stride.