Clark the Cub Discussion Thread

[Sammy Sofa]

This is just Mojo's marketing plan to get McCartney to play Wrigley again this summer

 

If it's all an elaborate plan to have Eddie Vedder eaten by a bear I'm all for it.

[USSoccer]

It's all part of our full-court press to sign Tanaka.

[Brian]

Someone please photoshop Clark with slanty eyes so Tanaka can know we really want him and we're cool.

[d_money]

Clark vs Southpaw in the Cubs/Sox series should be interesting. I can see the commercials now...

[davell]

It's all part of our full-court press to sign Tanaka.

There are 3 teams left without mascots. The Dodgers, Angels, and Yanks. The 3 rumored finalists.

 

It's cat and mouse at its finest. Theo, being as thorough as usual, found out Tanaka's wife is a mammalianpantsaphobe. My guess is until they change their tune on Chicago, she will be inundated with pics of our pantsless Internet champion. Once Tanaka's wife is scared into making him sign here, at a discount, no less, Clark will retweet back to Theo's evil mind.

 

The rumor is it will take a bearded frog AND a monkey with bacne to get the Angels to give us Trout.

[imb]

"They hate me," he said. "I haven't even been the mascot one day and they all already hate me."

He'd grown up, like most kids in his neighborhood, with dreams of manning third base for the Cubs. The cover of the diary he kept as a nine-year-old was now almost completely worn off, and some of the pages threatened to fall out of the spiral rings. But, in this moment, he found himself turning the pages. He'd dared not open it for years, afraid of losing some of the priceless mementos of his past.

 

In it, he found he'd charted his career path as a Cubs minor league.

 

"'Triple A by 20,' what a joke," he said, aware that when he was 20, he had actually been a D-student with a steadily growing ponch above his belt. The Freshman 15 had gotten him at least twice, appropriate, considering he'd repeated many of the classes he'd taken those first two semesters.

 

But the thought struck him that, at just 25, he was still tasked with going to Wrigley Field every day. Sure it wasn't on the hot corner, but he was still in the park. And yeah, the adults would hate him, throw beer on him, hell, probably piss on him. But the kids would love him. And wasn't that the point? Who dreams of being a pro athlete as a child with the goal being the adoration of adults? He'd always envisioned himself taking pictures with little kids, signing autographs, tussling their hair and calling them "champ" or "sport."

 

Suddenly he discovered he was no longer dreading the job, he was actually looking forward to it.

 

Running his fingers across his chinstrap beard, he looked one last time into the Tupac poster above his bed, "Hail Mary" playing on his iPod.

 

"Now, do you want to ride or die?" he asked.

[d_money]

Someone please photoshop Clark with slanty eyes so Tanaka can know we really want him and we're cool.

Clark and Hello Kitty...pretty hot

[Sammy Sofa]

"They hate me," he said. "I haven't even been the mascot one day and they all already hate me."

He'd grown up, like most kids in his neighborhood, with dreams of manning third base for the Cubs. The cover of the diary he kept as a nine-year-old was now almost completely worn off, and some of the pages threatened to fall out of the spiral rings. But, in this moment, he found himself turning the pages. He'd dared not open it for years, afraid of losing some of the priceless mementos of his past.

 

In it, he found he'd charted his career path as a Cubs minor league.

 

"'Triple A by 20,' what a joke," he said, aware that when he was 20, he had actually been a D-student with a steadily growing ponch above his belt. The Freshman 15 had gotten him at least twice, appropriate, considering he'd repeated many of the classes he'd taken those first two semesters.

 

But the thought struck him that, at just 25, he was still tasked with going to Wrigley Field every day. Sure it wasn't on the hot corner, but he was still in the park. And yeah, the adults would hate him, throw beer on him, hell, probably piss on him. But the kids would love him. And wasn't that the point? Who dreams of being a pro athlete as a child with the goal being the adoration of adults? He'd always envisioned himself taking pictures with little kids, signing autographs, tussling their hair and calling them "champ" or "sport."

 

Suddenly he discovered he was no longer dreading the job, he was actually looking forward to it.

 

Running his fingers across his chinstrap beard, he looked one last time into the Tupac poster above his bed, "Hail Mary" playing on his iPod.

 

"Now, do you want to ride or die?" he asked.

 

http://rack.1.mshcdn.com/media/ZgkyMDEyLzEyLzIwLzQ4L1Nob2NrMjBhbmQyLjhmNDkxLmdpZgpwCXRodW1iCTg1MHg1OTA-CmUJanBn/8f3c581b/45a/Shock%252520and%252520Awe.jpg

[Bull]

For anyone who cares, I have @clark_the_cub.

[gscool89]

"They hate me," he said. "I haven't even been the mascot one day and they all already hate me."

He'd grown up, like most kids in his neighborhood, with dreams of manning third base for the Cubs. The cover of the diary he kept as a nine-year-old was now almost completely worn off, and some of the pages threatened to fall out of the spiral rings. But, in this moment, he found himself turning the pages. He'd dared not open it for years, afraid of losing some of the priceless mementos of his past.

 

In it, he found he'd charted his career path as a Cubs minor league.

 

"'Triple A by 20,' what a joke," he said, aware that when he was 20, he had actually been a D-student with a steadily growing ponch above his belt. The Freshman 15 had gotten him at least twice, appropriate, considering he'd repeated many of the classes he'd taken those first two semesters.

 

But the thought struck him that, at just 25, he was still tasked with going to Wrigley Field every day. Sure it wasn't on the hot corner, but he was still in the park. And yeah, the adults would hate him, throw beer on him, hell, probably piss on him. But the kids would love him. And wasn't that the point? Who dreams of being a pro athlete as a child with the goal being the adoration of adults? He'd always envisioned himself taking pictures with little kids, signing autographs, tussling their hair and calling them "champ" or "sport."

 

Suddenly he discovered he was no longer dreading the job, he was actually looking forward to it.

 

Running his fingers across his chinstrap beard, he looked one last time into the Tupac poster above his bed, "Hail Mary" playing on his iPod.

 

"Now, do you want to ride or die?" he asked.

http://gifrific.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/lakers-reaction-kobe.gif

[SouthSideRyan]

"They hate me," he said. "I haven't even been the mascot one day and they all already hate me."

He'd grown up, like most kids in his neighborhood, with dreams of manning third base for the Cubs. The cover of the diary he kept as a nine-year-old was now almost completely worn off, and some of the pages threatened to fall out of the spiral rings. But, in this moment, he found himself turning the pages. He'd dared not open it for years, afraid of losing some of the priceless mementos of his past.

 

In it, he found he'd charted his career path as a Cubs minor league.

 

"'Triple A by 20,' what a joke," he said, aware that when he was 20, he had actually been a D-student with a steadily growing ponch above his belt. The Freshman 15 had gotten him at least twice, appropriate, considering he'd repeated many of the classes he'd taken those first two semesters.

 

But the thought struck him that, at just 25, he was still tasked with going to Wrigley Field every day. Sure it wasn't on the hot corner, but he was still in the park. And yeah, the adults would hate him, throw beer on him, hell, probably piss on him. But the kids would love him. And wasn't that the point? Who dreams of being a pro athlete as a child with the goal being the adoration of adults? He'd always envisioned himself taking pictures with little kids, signing autographs, tussling their hair and calling them "champ" or "sport."

 

Suddenly he discovered he was no longer dreading the job, he was actually looking forward to it.

 

Running his fingers across his chinstrap beard, he looked one last time into the Tupac poster above his bed, "Hail Mary" playing on his iPod.

 

"Now, do you want to ride or die?" he asked.

 

HOLY [expletive]

[treebird]

"They hate me," he said. "I haven't even been the mascot one day and they all already hate me."

He'd grown up, like most kids in his neighborhood, with dreams of manning third base for the Cubs. The cover of the diary he kept as a nine-year-old was now almost completely worn off, and some of the pages threatened to fall out of the spiral rings. But, in this moment, he found himself turning the pages. He'd dared not open it for years, afraid of losing some of the priceless mementos of his past.

 

In it, he found he'd charted his career path as a Cubs minor league.

 

"'Triple A by 20,' what a joke," he said, aware that when he was 20, he had actually been a D-student with a steadily growing ponch above his belt. The Freshman 15 had gotten him at least twice, appropriate, considering he'd repeated many of the classes he'd taken those first two semesters.

 

But the thought struck him that, at just 25, he was still tasked with going to Wrigley Field every day. Sure it wasn't on the hot corner, but he was still in the park. And yeah, the adults would hate him, throw beer on him, hell, probably piss on him. But the kids would love him. And wasn't that the point? Who dreams of being a pro athlete as a child with the goal being the adoration of adults? He'd always envisioned himself taking pictures with little kids, signing autographs, tussling their hair and calling them "champ" or "sport."

 

Suddenly he discovered he was no longer dreading the job, he was actually looking forward to it.

 

Running his fingers across his chinstrap beard, he looked one last time into the Tupac poster above his bed, "Hail Mary" playing on his iPod.

 

"Now, do you want to ride or die?" he asked.

 

for future reference, this is what a 10.0 looks like

[USSoccer]

"They hate me," he said. "I haven't even been the mascot one day and they all already hate me."

He'd grown up, like most kids in his neighborhood, with dreams of manning third base for the Cubs. The cover of the diary he kept as a nine-year-old was now almost completely worn off, and some of the pages threatened to fall out of the spiral rings. But, in this moment, he found himself turning the pages. He'd dared not open it for years, afraid of losing some of the priceless mementos of his past.

 

In it, he found he'd charted his career path as a Cubs minor league.

 

"'Triple A by 20,' what a joke," he said, aware that when he was 20, he had actually been a D-student with a steadily growing ponch above his belt. The Freshman 15 had gotten him at least twice, appropriate, considering he'd repeated many of the classes he'd taken those first two semesters.

 

But the thought struck him that, at just 25, he was still tasked with going to Wrigley Field every day. Sure it wasn't on the hot corner, but he was still in the park. And yeah, the adults would hate him, throw beer on him, hell, probably piss on him. But the kids would love him. And wasn't that the point? Who dreams of being a pro athlete as a child with the goal being the adoration of adults? He'd always envisioned himself taking pictures with little kids, signing autographs, tussling their hair and calling them "champ" or "sport."

 

Suddenly he discovered he was no longer dreading the job, he was actually looking forward to it.

 

Running his fingers across his chinstrap beard, he looked one last time into the Tupac poster above his bed, "Hail Mary" playing on his iPod.

 

"Now, do you want to ride or die?" he asked.

 

http://img.gawkerassets.com/img/185wsu7f62b33gif/ku-xlarge.gif

[Backtobanks]

This news ought to get the fans excited just before the Cubs' Convention and the sale of season tickets.

[Tangled Up in Plaid]

[expletive], I got here too late.

[Clem Fandango]

In reference to Clark:

 

http://i.imgur.com/InzjS0P.gif

[TruffleShuffle]

"They hate me," he said. "I haven't even been the mascot one day and they all already hate me."

He'd grown up, like most kids in his neighborhood, with dreams of manning third base for the Cubs. The cover of the diary he kept as a nine-year-old was now almost completely worn off, and some of the pages threatened to fall out of the spiral rings. But, in this moment, he found himself turning the pages. He'd dared not open it for years, afraid of losing some of the priceless mementos of his past.

 

In it, he found he'd charted his career path as a Cubs minor league.

 

"'Triple A by 20,' what a joke," he said, aware that when he was 20, he had actually been a D-student with a steadily growing ponch above his belt. The Freshman 15 had gotten him at least twice, appropriate, considering he'd repeated many of the classes he'd taken those first two semesters.

 

But the thought struck him that, at just 25, he was still tasked with going to Wrigley Field every day. Sure it wasn't on the hot corner, but he was still in the park. And yeah, the adults would hate him, throw beer on him, hell, probably piss on him. But the kids would love him. And wasn't that the point? Who dreams of being a pro athlete as a child with the goal being the adoration of adults? He'd always envisioned himself taking pictures with little kids, signing autographs, tussling their hair and calling them "champ" or "sport."

 

Suddenly he discovered he was no longer dreading the job, he was actually looking forward to it.

 

Running his fingers across his chinstrap beard, he looked one last time into the Tupac poster above his bed, "Hail Mary" playing on his iPod.

 

"Now, do you want to ride or die?" he asked.

 

http://i.imgur.com/dhMeAzK.gif

[Derwood]

 

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooope

 

/modded!

 

[SouthSideRyan]

Well that's just unnecessarily creepy

[Sammy Sofa]

Ugh, who would even post something like tha-OHHHHHHHHHHHHH, right.

[Derwood]

Ugh, who would even post something like tha-OHHHHHHHHHHHHH, right.

 

my work here is done

[Ding Dong Johnson]

"They hate me," he said. "I haven't even been the mascot one day and they all already hate me."

He'd grown up, like most kids in his neighborhood, with dreams of manning third base for the Cubs. The cover of the diary he kept as a nine-year-old was now almost completely worn off, and some of the pages threatened to fall out of the spiral rings. But, in this moment, he found himself turning the pages. He'd dared not open it for years, afraid of losing some of the priceless mementos of his past.

 

In it, he found he'd charted his career path as a Cubs minor league.

 

"'Triple A by 20,' what a joke," he said, aware that when he was 20, he had actually been a D-student with a steadily growing ponch above his belt. The Freshman 15 had gotten him at least twice, appropriate, considering he'd repeated many of the classes he'd taken those first two semesters.

 

But the thought struck him that, at just 25, he was still tasked with going to Wrigley Field every day. Sure it wasn't on the hot corner, but he was still in the park. And yeah, the adults would hate him, throw beer on him, hell, probably piss on him. But the kids would love him. And wasn't that the point? Who dreams of being a pro athlete as a child with the goal being the adoration of adults? He'd always envisioned himself taking pictures with little kids, signing autographs, tussling their hair and calling them "champ" or "sport."

 

Suddenly he discovered he was no longer dreading the job, he was actually looking forward to it.

 

Running his fingers across his chinstrap beard, he looked one last time into the Tupac poster above his bed, "Hail Mary" playing on his iPod.

 

"Now, do you want to ride or die?" he asked.

http://www.reactiongifs.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/an.gif

[Tedward]

Sorry folks, parks closed. Clark out front should have told you.

 

Well done

[Brian]

[davell]

Would Javy be the first minor leaguer to demand a trade?