Indiana Theo and the Quest For the Ring: A Cubs Story in Pictures

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This is what happens when spring training games aren’t even on TV yet…I get bored and start doing weird stuff.  If you are a fan of our Facebook page (and you should be, just click on the icon in our sidebar and join NOW), I’ve been posting random mashups of Cubs players with movie posters and other fun venues.  Now that the wife introduced me to GIMP, which is like Photoshop, but free, I’ve been able to do a bit more than I was previously with just Paint.

One of the mashups was of Theo Epstein as Indiana Jones.  We’ll call him Indiana Theo here.  There’s no agenda or politics or underlying messages in this story; it’s all for fun and to entertain you, if you choose to be entertained.  As with all pictures in our blogs, you can click on each image to get to the larger file.  So without further ado, enjoy our very first Cubs Story In Pictures…


Yeah, that's Ryan Dempster. And Ron Santo in the corner.

Our story begins in Boston, Massachusetts, where Professor of Baseballogy Theo “Indiana” Epstein was growing tired of the same old digs and decided to embark on an epic adventure to resurrect another fallen civilization.  Last time we saw our hero, he was battling pygmies and possessed ninjas in “Indiana Theo and the Curse of the Bambino”.  Indy was able to help the Bostonites exorcise their demons and brought peace and tranquility back to the Northeast.  But Indy needed another challenge.  Although he had one year left on his contract with Sawx University, he decided to take a sabbatical and travel to the uncharted jungles of a new land: Chicago.

He would have gone through Ohio and Indiana, but tolls are a killer.

Upon arrival, Indy learned of the mythical World Series Trophy, an amulet of wisdom and power that had been missing from the North Side of Chicago for over a century.  Indy decided to help the people of Chicago by leading an expedition to locate this coveted treasure.  After digging for clues and some snazzy detective work, Indy and his guide, Ronnie Woo-Woo, were able to find the temple of the missing Trophy in the tunnels of the Red Line Station at North & Clybourn. to snag this without triggering the Alou trap...

The problem was that the Trophy sat upon a pedestal that was weight-sensitive.  If Indiana Theo was not careful and could not set up a proper counterweight, the pedestal would drop, and allow an angry Moises Alou to pop out screaming while pissing on Indy’s hands.  What would be a proper counterweight?  The Trophy was rather weighty, and Indy needed something, like a hefty contract that needed to be unloaded anyway.  Suddenly, Indy had a great idea.

Let's exchange this albatross for our prize, shall we?

Indy reached into his pocket and pulled out not just the contract, but Alfonso Soriano himself.  He figured that Soriano would just kind of sit there and relax while he ran off with the Trophy.  It was a rather graceful exchange between the salary dump and the snatching of the World Series Trophy.  Even Ronnie Woo-Woo was impressed.  “Woo-Woo!  Indy!  Woo!  Theo!  Woo!”

Unfortunately for Indy and Woo-Woo, however, Soriano was not as lazy as perceived and had no desire to just lay there.  He got up onto the pedestal and donned his batting helmet to prepare to run to second base.  But the extra weight of the batting helmet that he conjured up out of thin air was just enough to trigger the underlying trap.

Oops! Woo! Run! Woo!

“Indy! Woo! Run! Woo!” cried Woo-Woo as he pointed to the rocks that were tumbling from above as Chicago had not bothered to fix the asphalt on its roads lately. Woo-Woo turned and ran, groping some statues of naked women along the way, while Indy was close behind. Woo-Woo was not very lucky, slamming into a brick wall that he thought was just a lush carpet of ivy and bouncing into one of Chicago’s many potholes, never to be seen again. Indy leapt across a chasm and through another wall before he stopped to catch his breath. The fun didn’t stop, though, as a huge baseball (with curious markings) suddenly dropped from the ceiling and rolled towards him, trying to crush his hopes and dreams before he could even get started.

Oh no! The curse of the new Collective Bargaining Agreement!

Indy had to run hard through thick ivy and lake effect snow (hey, it’s Chicago) before busting through yet another wall of cobwebs and street vendors to escape the rock. He took a moment to compose himself, collect his Trophy, and looked up. There, before him, was the nefarious Doctor Belig* with a native army from the Bosox Tribe.

*Belig is obviously an amalgamation of Belloq, the principal rival in Indiana Jones (besides the Illinois Nazis) and Bud Selig, the MLB commissioner who just won’t go away. I would’ve used John Henry, owner of the Red Sox, but I figured more people hated Bud Selig.

The nefarious Doctor Belig has taken the prize! That belongs in the Wrigley Museum!

Belig smirked, grabbed the Trophy from a stunned Indiana Theo’s hands, and said, “Now you see, Doctor Epstein, there isn’t anything on this world that you can acquire that I cannot take away.”  Indy thought about dissing Belig’s team, the Milwaukee Brewers, which hadn’t actually won a Trophy either, but with all the Bosox natives around, he couldn’t actually do much but to surrender his gun and the Trophy, for now.

“That belongs in the Wrigley Museum,” Indy pleaded with Belig, but Belig laughed at him.  “Oh really?  And what will you give me for compensation?”

Here, have a Chris Carpenter!

As Belig turned to the natives and held up his prize, Indiana Theo took action. He very quickly got up, snatched the World Series Trophy, and left in Belig’s hands his “compensation”: one Chris Carpenter (no, not the one from the Cardinals). Belig was furious and chattered in Bosoxese to his native army to run after Indy and reclaim the Trophy.

Ah, Lake Michigan...

Meanwhile, Jed Hoyer, Indiana Theo’s friend and pilot, was fishing for Asian carp in Lake Michigan.  He had been waiting for about two hours without nary a bite when suddenly, he felt a tug.  “Sweet!” said Jed as he stood on the pontoon and started reeling in his own prize.

At about that time, Indiana Theo was running down Michigan Avenue and turned on Ohio Street towards Navy Pier.  He looked behind him and saw dozens of angry Bosox Tribesmen chasing him.  Indy ran faster and dodged all that media barbs that the tribesmen were shooting at him with their blow guns.  Somehow he knew he would never hear the end of it for masterminding the Carl Crawford contract, which was now haunting him in the form of angry natives with blow guns.

All the Bosox Tribesmen look like Carl Crawford!

“Jed!” screamed Indy as he rushed past the Ferris Wheel. “Jed! Start the plane!”

Dang Jed, you need a tan.

Jed looked up and saw all the Carl Crawfords chasing after Indy, still shooting media barbs. He looked at his fishing line, which was still holding fast against the pesky Asian carp. “Dammit…why does he always do this when I’ve got a fish on the line?!”

Jed reluctantly dropped the fishing pole and climbed into the cockpit to fire up the plane.  Indy pushed through the last bits of shrubbery, dove into Lake Michigan and swam towards the plane as it revved to full power.  Miraculously, he was able to avoid all the media barbs that the natives were still shooting at him, and eventually he was out of their range.

Indiana Theo climbed onto the pontoon and into the passenger compartment as the hoard of angry Carl Crawfords shook their fists and blowguns at him from the shore.  Apparently the Bosox Tribe can’t swim as they had way too much beer and chicken in the clubhouse.

Indy breathed a sigh of relief as Jed pulled the plane into the air to head back towards Wrigley Field Museum, where the World Series Trophy would soon be on display.  He felt a rustling at his lap just then, and, unnerved, looked to find Fredbird on his seat.

I hate Cardinals, Jed! I hate them!

“What the hell is this, Jed?!” screamed Indy.

“Oh, that’s just Fred Bird, my pet Cardinal.  He’s harmless!” Jed replied over the roar of the propeller.

“I HATE Cardinals, Jed!  I hate them!” Indy cried as he tried to distance himself as much from the Cardinals mascot as he could.

“Grow a backbone, will ya?  Besides, they don’t have Albert Pujols anymore,” laughed Jed as they flew off into the sunset towards 1060 West Addison.

The End….?

Taking the World Series Trophy back where it belongs.

About Rice Cube

Rice Cube is the executive vice president of snark at World Series Dreaming. He loves all things Cubs, with notable exceptions (specifically, the part of Cubs fandom that pisses him off). Follow on Twitter at cubicsnarkonia

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