REQUIEM FOR A CUBS FAN:

Cubs-Dodgers, Game 2 Diary

• I am living in absolute fear and dread right now.  I better stay sober.  This could get ugly.

• How bad does Tony Gwynn look?  He looks like a bus driver, not a Hall of Fame former athlete.  But the man’s voice?  Awesome.  He sounds like a supporting character on My Name Is Earl.  Country cool.

• Here we go.  Zambrano taking the mound.  I just had my first heart attack of the night.

• Russell Martin has a Douchebag Beard.  Zambrano should bean him on principle. 

• Manny getting serenaded with a chorus of boos.  Dude is batting like .900 with the Dodgers.  Bean him, Z!

• Struck out Manny with the high heat.  Eat it.  Men should not have braids.

• SORIANO!  First pitch, first hit.  We need to jump all over these clowns.

• Yes!  Douchebag Beard dropped the ball, behind the plate.  Soriano to 2^nd.

• Theriot with a limp-dicked strikeout.  Should have bunted there.

• Just noticed that we’re wearing our blue uniforms.  At home.  WEAK.  They look like batting practice jerseys, at best.  How do you wear those at home, in the PLAYOFFS?!  Oh, right.  Zambrano chose them, because he will snap if they’re not in blue.

• Lee strikes out in the dirt, too.  Come on, A-Ram! (Aramis Ramirez)

• A-Ram flies out.  Least he made contact.  Scoreless after One.

• Lead-off single for Ethier.  Theriot boots a ball on a bad hop.  Here comes the shit storm.

• Nasty cutting slider freezes Kemp.  One away. 

• Blake Dewitt is up.  Who the hell is Blake Dewitt?  He sounds like an 80’s villain.

• FUCK.  Now DeRosa boots a sure double play ball.  1-0 Dodgers.

• ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!  Now Derek Lee boots a ball!  Bases loaded and the Cubs are channeling Bill Buckner in droves.

• Strikeout for Zambrano.  2 outs.  If Furcal was to ever hit a home run, it would be right now.  Because we’re the Cubs.

• Pop fly drag bunt by Furcal.  Beats it out.  2-0 Dodgers.  Please Kill Me.

• MOTHERFUCKER.  Douchebag Beard strikes again.  Bases-clearing double.    5-0 Dodgers.  I ought to write the suicide note on Cubs stationary.  Seems fitting. 

• Manny strikes out.  Whatever.

• You can change the names on the back of the jerseys.  You can hire Sweet Lou Piniella.  You can put fucking Under Armour ads on the centerfield wall.  But there’s one thing you can’t change.  The Cubs are destined to FAIL.

Me, if I chose to drink during this late-term abortion of a game

• Zambrano gets through the 3^rd with no incident.  Now he gets an opportunity to help his own floundering cause.  Big Z knows how to deliver the wood.  Oh yes.

• Zambrano walks!  His first walk of the season.  I forgot what it felt like to smile.

• Just a tease.  The Cubs go down like a wasted boner.  5-0 after 3.

• ERROR.  A-Ram.  Now all four infielders have booted a ball and we’re not even  through 4.  I feel like Terri Schiavo did.  Just waiting to die. 

Might as well put a CUBS hat on her.

• Zambano manages to get out of it.  And he hasn’t killed anyone or dropkicked any defenseless water coolers.  Things are looking up.  –Ish.

• Lee starts off the Bottom of the 4^th with a single to left. 

• I think Lee just broke up a double play with his nut sac. 

• Nope.  Not his nut sac.  His hand.  But that took balls to stick his hand out and get drilled in the fingers.  Big Derek Lee Balls. 

• And then the Inevitability that is Cubs Failure reasserts itself.  DeRosa grounds into a double play to end the inning.

• I just realized I was wearing the same pajama pants I had on during last night’s meltdown in Game 1.  Must change.

• Back.  Just in time to hear a home run call for Manny Ramirez.  6-0 Dodgers.  The last remnants of hope and faith from my childhood are slowly seeping out of me like a Morning-After-Miller Lite fart stream.

"Hi! Not only do I look like a fame-less Haley Joel Osmont, but I'm also a CUBS fan! Lord, please smite me down before I hit puberty, for I shall never know happiness!"

• We’ve moved on to the Bottom of the 6^th now.  Z leading off in this 6-0 torture porn suckfest of a game. 

• Out.  Now it’s Soriano’s turn to disappoint.   

• For the record, I changed from Dr. Seuss pajama pants to checkered pajama shorts, AND have resorted to the rally cap in the 6^th inning.  Shit, I’ll convert to Hinduism if it helps the Cubbies. 

• Soriano.  Out.  Down to the last 10 outs now.  And they just showed a dismayed old woman.  Now not only am I depressed about the Cubs, I’m startlingly aware of my own mortality.  Worse, the dual hydrogen bomb fallout of my mortality and the realization that I, too, will die like that old woman, without tasting a Cubs championship.   

• Of course, Theriot weakly grounded out to end the inning.  But not the suffering.  I shall suffer eternally. Like Sisyphus, pushing the boulder up the hill every day, only to helplessly watch it tumble back down.  And each day I start anew, knowing damn well what the miserable outcome will be.  I put my Cubs hat on and I push that rock up the hill, because it is my destiny.  My destiny of FAIL.

GO CUBBIES!!! 

• The Cubs are down SEVEN FUCKING RUNS to start the bottom of the 7^th.  Is this what getting fisted feels like?  I think yes. 

• Holy balls!  We scored a run.  7-1 with 2 outs.  First run scored in the last 15 innings.  Awesome.

• Soto singles.  Torre pulls the plug on Billingsley.  Damn him and his sharp baseball mind.  Good decision there. 

• Cory Wade enters in relief of Billingsley.  Piniella sticks with struggling Fukodome.

• Down 0-2.  Here comes the “Fuck You” putaway in the dirt.

• Nope.  Ground out.  Same difference.  That was our one fleeting shot.

• So it’s 9-1 now.  And TBS has a remarkable propensity to only show the ugly women in the crowd.  Is it an unwritten rule of broadcast sports?  In good times, seek out the hotties.  In bad times, go ape shit with the uggo shots.  We must witness montages of frumpish women frowning, to validate our pain. 

• Fuck this.  I’m eating a piece of cake.

• The Cubs lose.  10-3.  Heading to LA for the money shot, down 2-0.  Great.

• I’M GONNA GO MASTURBATE IN THE DARK NOW.

GO CUBBIES!!!