Weekend Recap: Cubs Beat a Solid Team, Get Jack Shit for It

Monday, September 28, 2009

Weekend Recap: Cubs Beat a Solid Team, Get Jack Shit for It

. Monday, September 28, 2009



I have it on good authority that those mysterious lights above Zambrano are the trail that his wicked fastball left. Or maybe I just read too many comic books.

Even here, at the center of the Cubs universe, I feel like everyone's already checked out. It's like that scene in the Shining, when there are only a couple people left at the Overlook, but Jack Nicholson hasn't quite yet started the repetitive typing and murder. It's sad, and those creepy dead twins don't help matters. You want to see a really sad indicator of Chicago sentiment toward our beloved Cubbies? Behold.



Great embedded Cubs highlights - OF JAY FUCKING CUTLER! ESPN Chicago - incompetent, or just tapping into the metropolitan subconscious?

More lonely recapping, after the jump



Leave it to Zambrano to turn in his best game of the year as most of us are out and about, stuffing five-dollar bills into bar jukeboxes to secure a solid slate of '80s hits before some asshole pumps in $20 worth of U2 or some broad and her roll of $1s decides it's a 50 Cent kind of night. Which is to say that the Cubs game was less the focus of the night than the thing I was really glad they turned on for me at the bar. Sadly, the season seems to be going away with a whimper. How else to explain my late-posting of such a momentous (okay, maybe just notable) recap?



Hey, with that hair and that lighting, he sort of looks like a nightmarishly hideous woman!

As sucky as this season has been, Friday was a reminder that even in the flaming wreck of this horrible fucking Hindenberg campaign, there is occasionally enjoyable baseball to be had. Zambrano not only threw a complete game shutout of a Wild Card contender, but he also smacked an RBI double off of the video game cover boy. Then we got to beat Randy Johnson as well, when he came in to relieve the 7'10" hippie. I can't remember ever winning a game that featured Randy Johnson on the round. Ever. I hate that gangly fuck. He looks like an extra from 1990s Lorenzo Lamas vehicle Renegade. And we beat him, much in the spirit of Lorenzo Lamas. I just like typing that name. Lorenzo Lamas.



Geovany Soto provides empirical evidence for the utility of Hostess Fruit Pies as a training regimen.

While I respect Tim Lincecum's tremendous ability, and I enjoyed winning that game because of the sheer achievement involved in Z out-dueling him, I liked Saturday's game because I'm a mean bastard. I'm sure he's a good guy, but I can't get over my sick fascination with watching Barry Zito fall apart like an Tony Larussa's Jenga set.

(Get it? Because he's likely got the shakes and would be poor at Jenga?)

I'm sure Barry Zito is a nice guy - awful guitar albums aside - but there seems to be something weirdly fascinating to human beings about a $126 million dollar person doing their job like absolute shit. And perhaps 6 hits and 4 runs in 4 innings isn't that terrible, but getting yanked before you can blow up the game like a Navy Seal demo-ing a Viet Cong bridge doesn't make you a hundred million dollar man. And when Geo Soto's getting up off of his fat ass and ripping RBI hits off of you, then perhaps it's time to consider a second career, maybe call DeVry for that HVAC brochure.



"What is this mysterious emotion? I ... feel ... funny. It must be what the humans call ... love. [ERROR, ERROR, REVERTING TO ORIGINAL PROGRAMMING] ROMPER, MATAR, DESTRUYE:

And then Sunday we lost, and no one noticed, because we were already far out of the playoffs and the Bears were on. Que lastima.

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