CHICAGO — I was sitting in the parking lot of the Jewel-Osco on Friday morning when my iPhone started pinging madly.

Somehow I inadvertently had been added to an unknown group text string labeled CHI BASE OPS, along with two individuals with the initials JH and CG.

It seemed like a frank discussion of the upcoming Chicago baseball seasons for the Cubs and White Sox, but because I was unable to verify the authenticity of the group chat, I’ve decided to simply post the transcript and let the readers decide what is real and what’s not.

11:45 a.m. TEAM UPDATE

JH: Yo. Are we clean?

CG: Clean. Just us, dude. Congrats on the domestic opener. Watched Bulls-Lakers on the antenna last night, but I heard you won.

JH: Giddey!

CG: Giddey!

JH: Congrats on yours. Anyone show up for the opener?

CG: (Redacted). Almost a sellout, man. And at least they watch the games down here, unlike a certain playground for the (redacted) that I know of. LOL.

JH: Whatever. So what’s your new mission statement? The Impossible Dream 2.0 begins?

CG: Nah. Rebuild 101. Stole your Godfather’s plan. Told the beat writers we wouldn’t lose 122 this time. Hey, we’re 1-0.

JH: Great plan. Done it a couple times. Godfather knows best.

CG: Honestly, I feel good. Great bunch. NO CRAZIES. No expectations. Our fans blame the Boss, not me. Stoked, dude.

JH: Seriously?

CG: Seriously. So what’s your mission statement?

JH: Going with the “Playoffs or Bust” thing from 2021. Marketing wanted the “We Didn’t Come Here for a Haircut” campaign from ’16, but that didn’t test well with Gen Z.

CG: Figures. (Redacted) kids.

JH: True. But I feel good too. We’ll do it. And if not, someone you see at your favorite Winnetka Starbucks may soon be asking you for a little spare change for a Caramel Macchiato with soy milk.

CG: You’ll get a nice tribute video though.

JH: 100 percent emoji. But if we make it, they gotta stay the course. Four more years of The Plan, right?

CG: Confirmed. Sounds like The Plan is a plan for life. You’re my idle, dude.

CG: Idol. Sorry. Spellcheck.

JH: Appreciate you. Come over to the mansion sometime, maybe watch a Bulls play-in game in the Executive Man Cave.

CG: You got the antenna?

JH: Dude, I got THREE RINGS. I don’t need to watch sports on a stinking antenna.

TE: Hey, guys, please take me off this group chat. Been gone five freaking years now. Not cool.

JH: Sorry, Godfather. Forgot you retired.

CG: Sorry. Removed.

JH: We clean?

CG: Clean. What’s he doing now since the pitch clock anyways?

JH: Beats me. How’s your brackets?

CG: (Redacted). And yours?

JH: Not bad. Still got Duke. Fingers crossed emoji.

CG: I still got the Bulls, as long as the antenna works.

JH: Giddey!

CG: Giddey!

AK: Giddey!

JH: AK? Wrong group chat, dude. This is Baseball Ops only.

AK: Oh, sorry. Goodbye, fellows.

JH: See ya, AK.

JH: Removed. Clean?

CG: Clean.

JH: Yo, are you sure this app is encrypted?

CG: Yeah, our analytics department checked it out. We’re so encrypted its like we’re talking under the Cone of Silence.

JH: OK.

CG: Jet lag gone?

JH: Haven’t slept in two weeks, man.

CG: Yeah, that’s a long flight, dude.

JH: Not the flight. Just my Seasonal Bullpen Anxiety Disorder. Happens every spring around roster decision time.

CG: Oh, SBAD? That’s a nightmare. Stay hydrated, and avoid the fourth estate types at all costs.

JH: 100 percent emoji. Been on a CHARM OFFENSIVE all spring. They bought it. LOL. Fire emoji.

CG: The Godfather taught you well.

JH: Confirmed. How’s the milkshake business looking?

CG: Great. Selling our ballpark as a foodie destination where baseball is also played. A brilliant idea. I think it could work. Who knows? We can’t just open the doors and watch the tourists pour in like you (redacted).

JH: We’re turning our bleachers into a giant, bro-friendly patio party where baseball also is played. Even you guys would draw 3 million here if you moved north. Rooftops will be packed too. It’s all a carnival, man.

CG: Who needs that? We got EZ Out parking for everyone, no lines except for the milkshake concession. It’s baseball heaven.

JH: Sure. Boss treating you OK?

CG: Yeah, he can’t blame me. I just got here.

JH: Ha. You’ve been working there for what, like 10 years?

CG: Nine. But only the last one was my own team. I deserve a mulligan. LOL.

JH: Fire emoji. Fire emoji. Fire emoji.

CG: You safe, man?

JH: Hopefully. I can only spend what they give me, right? We’re not the Evil Empire.

CG: Spend? What does this word “spend” mean?

JH: Sorry. Too soon?

CG: If worst comes to worst, you can always come work for me. I’ve got an opening for an assistant to the assistant. We can carpool it together down the Edens.

JH: Dude, you know I don’t go south of the United Center.

CG: (Redacted) North Shore (redacted).

JH: Got a meeting. See you down the road at our favorite Starbucks. Later, dude.

CG: You’re buying next time.

JH: I’ll expense it. LOL.

CG: Giddey!

JH: Giddey!

AK: Giddey!

JH: AK, delete this app, dude.

____

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