Dammit, dammit, dammit. They just aren't giving me ANYTHING to run with here. I'm not asking for much, but the ability to watch a game without being heavily sedated would be nice. I'm dying out here! I just want to win ONE BLOODY GAME!!!!! Would it be too much of an inconvenience for my guys to let me save a little face? I thought Cubs fans were obnoxious when they were losing, but you should hear them now that they're winning. I think I'd rather be deaf.
Furthermore, after watching two games in a row I really cannot take much more of Cubs "on-air personalities" Len and Bob. These guys spent about ten minutes last night discussing how one of them got locked in his hotel room. FOR THE SECOND TIME! (Note: Yes, he said IN not OUT OF.) Later in the broadcast they were reflecting on the tragic death of Tulsa Drillers first base coach Mike Coolbaugh and one of them helpfully pointed out that what killed him was a burst artery in his head that was CLOSE TO HIS BRAIN. Really? As opposed to what, his gallbladder? He got hit IN THE HEAD!!! Thanks for the anatomy lesson, jackass. Somehow that whole hotel room issue started making a hell of a lot more sense. I can just see him sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the door completely baffled. "There's a big wooden SLAB obstructing my exit! However will I escape!"
Anyhow, I can't even think about the actual game last night without wanting to punch a kitten in the face. Although Adam Wainwright was lights out until the fourth inning striking out six of the the first ten batters he faced, we couldn't generate any run support whatsoever. We hit into four double plays and ended up losing by more then five runs for the 25th time this season. Pujols is 0-9 on the series and it looked like Juan Encarnacion (4-4, 1 RBI) was the only guy who thought it was a terrific idea to put runs on the board. I, for one, feel his genius is under appreciated.
So anyway, I think I'm going to abstain from watching the action tonight. I've spent six hours over the past two days wanting desperately to shove my arm in a paper shredder. I'm also running dangerously low on vodka and think my roommate is ready to have me fitted for a straight jacket. These things combined seem to suggest that my mental health is in danger and a nice evening among baseball-neutral friends might be in order. It's either that or move somewhere outside of WGN's reach like the Czech Republic. I haven't really decided yet.