By Tim Baffoe-
(CBS) Tim Baffoe has obtained a totally real and absolutely not fake and nobody-is-winking-while-typing-this first draft of Tom Ricketts’ statement that he originally planned to address only to the rooftop owners and politicians but then later modified and filmed for a more fan-friendly version. The 100%-not-made-up-by-Tim Baffoe original script follows this video the Cubs actually released. (Legally we have to inform those of you who don’t understand sarcasm that the following is most definitely fake.)
My dearest neighbors,
The time has come for you to kiss my corn-fed Nebraska butt, and I for one could not be more relieved at that. I’ve been harboring this nice-guy image too long. It just got real.
Do you know who I am? I own the freaking Chicago Cubs, for Pete’s sake. And speaking of Pete, my brother is about to run the show in Nebraska. All of it. And now I’m bout to make the view from your joints the equivalent of the West Side of Omaha, son.
What did you think was going to happen here? That you would moan until I just got tired of you and gave in? You done messed up now.
(hastily remove fleece vest, picks up 100 Years commemorative bat)
You want to play this off as some noble David vs. Goliath battle — well, guess what? About 99.9 percent of the time the Davids of the world get jacked up. It’s like fighting a toddler. And you best be damn sure I’m gonna have you bleeding and crapping your Underoos.
I’m here at home plate of Wrigley Field. I just got done listening to “You Can’t Stop Us Now” by Nas, and between this place and the rooftops, he mentioned one of them. Guess which. When tourists roll into Chicago, do they say, “Hey, boo, I really want to check out those world famous tops of apartment buildings in that neighborhood whose name escapes me at the moment”? I thought not.
Take a walk with me. I said walk, damn it.
(roll up sleeves, barely expose “C.R.E.A.M.” forearm tattoo)
See this John Baker excuse of a batting cage? I got dudes hitting off a tee-ball tee into a net that Tony Campana stole from a McDonald’s Playland, and you’re going to try to hold up my team’s progress for your bachelor or bachelorette party? Nuh uh, son. Now, imagine me putting your heads on this here tee and going all Glenallen Hill up on you. That’s about to be your reality, chumps. You feel me?
I tried playing nice with ya. Tried to play the good neighbor. You hear me, Tom Tunney, with your screechy self?
See, I was always going to win, but I wanted to be classy about it. Then y’all pushed class right out the window like a drunken frat bro at one of your gameday parties. Now it’s on like Donkey Kong, and y’all about to be put over Jim Hendry’s barrel.
You’re incapable of running this city.
Here’s what I’m about to do. Gonna walk into City Hall, gonna collect a few debts from some of the hustlers in that joint, gonna walk into the Rahmfather’s office and then gonna have a Coke and smile. And we are gonna laugh and laugh and then close down one of your neighborhood schools and turn it into Jeff Samardzija’s Barber College or something just because we can.
I’m the man up in this piece. You’ll never see the light of day baseball. I’m the owner of the Cubs. I run @#$% here. You just live here. Dave Kingman ain’t got anything on me.
And speaking of rats, I’m not done with you yet. It’ll cost me about 20 bucks and a hot shower to get Ronnie Woo Woo to direct the army of rats he presides over to infest your buildings. It’s pretty amazing and eerie the power he has over them things. See if you can pick out his hollering over that of your customers running away in a frenzy.
More signs are going up in the park. One of them will just be a middle finger facing your building, and I ain’t even gonna charge the sponsor for the advertising.
And we’re going to expand. A lot. All around you. I’m gonna make it my new life’s mission to win a World Series and bleed you dry.
Lawyer up, go ahead. They cost money. Money that in a few years you’re going to regret spending while fans and party people are walking into new bars and clubs and eateries and shops that I own instead of your broke places.
Then, when you’ve just about suffocated, I’m going to buy your properties cheap, knock them down and build something that will make history forget you were ever a something.
And the fans have and will continue to side with me. Because I look friendly. I go to games in business casual and buy sections of people hot dogs and frosty malts and tell the mascot when he’s creeping out the kids too much. The people love me because I’ve promised to provide. I threaten to move, and they freak out.
Would they do the same if you ceased to exist in Wrigleyville? The hell you got for them?
Ah, see, but you failed to consider the magnitude of all this, didn’t you? Starting to get a bit too real of a sudden, isn’t it?
Money talks, and bull@#$% runs a marathon. I’m feeling a fun run coming on. So, see ya, and I wouldn’t want to be ya.
(takes off clip-on microphone, drops it, walks away slowly while staring into the camera whistling “Go Cubs Go”)
You can follow Tim on Twitter @TimBaffoe.