Constable: Maddon's Cubs tricks work for us, too

It's December. We're coping with remnants from a record first snowfall. Below-freezing temperatures are settling in. Our skies are a dreary gray. The Cubs won't open spring training camp for another two months.

And I experience a Joe Maddon-inspired epiphany that promises to make all our lives a little better.

While a few of us Cubs fans might have questioned Maddon's handling of pitchers during the last two games of the postseason, we know that it's ridiculous to nitpick the strategy of a manager who gave us our first World Series championship since 1908. Maddon accomplished something that Leo Durocher, Jim Frey, Don Zimmer, Dusty Baker and Lou Piniella could not. So we cut him some slack.

If Maddon says his players would benefit from bringing in a mime, we go along. If Maddon says a magician in the clubhouse will get his boys to hit, we nod in agreement. Bring in a petting zoo to ease the pressure? Well, why not? Even asking grown men to wear pajamas on an airplane seems plausible to Maddon-smitten Cubs fans.

But now I realize that Maddon isn't just a quirky baseball manager. He's a genius life coach whose methods work in the real world.

"It's been a long week, in light of all that has happened, I really feel we need a comfort night!" reads the invite from Deb and John, the hosts for our latest euchre party gathering of friends that consists of eight married couples. "So … Let's have a Pajama PARTY!"

I am coming off a week spent trying, with varying success, to balance my newspaper job with my 89-year-old mom's rehabilitation after a hospital stay. Driving back from the family farm in Indiana through rush-hour traffic late Friday afternoon, I want to sleep, not just dress for bed. Tired and probably a little grouchy, I don a comfy long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of Homer Simpson fleece pajama pants and head to the euchre party with my wife.

Four hours later, when everyone is stuffed with chicken and dumplings, chips and dip, weenies on toothpicks, spicy ratatouille, corn souffle, plenty of cookies, homemade rice pudding and a few cocktails, the weight of the world vanishes. We are comfy and then some. With the outcome in doubt until the final ace of hearts is played in the last hand of the last game, first-time winner Deb celebrates with high-fives and hugs. Even gracious runners-up, Marcia and Paul, who apparently sleeps in a Cleveland Indians T-shirt, join in Deb's joy. Everybody seems comfy and content with the Maddon-esque pajama party card game concept.

It's impossible to be grumpy and tired when all your compatriots are wearing pajamas, whether you are friends trying to win the coveted euchre sashes hand-stitched by Lisa, or professional ballplayers trying to win a championship.

"Look at how they all played tonight; it must have been the Onesies," Maddon told Daily Herald Cubs beat reporter Bruce Miles this past August after the Cubs wore pajamas on the flight home from a West Coast road trip and then won a 13-inning game against the Pittsburgh Pirates at Wrigley Field. "If you're flying on a charter airplane and you have Onesies on, you got to feel better the next day, even if you're a little bit late."

I get it now. Pajamas work. Thanks, Joe Maddon.

I resist the urge to wear pajamas to the newsroom on Monday, but now I understand Maddon's genius.

I'm beginning to wonder if our next euchre party needs a mime.