<s>Weekend</s> Season Recap: OVAH!

Monday, October 5, 2009

Weekend Season Recap: OVAH!

. Monday, October 5, 2009



"Forget the Olympics, we've got the wordiest sign ever!"

Remember that part in Rocky, where Mickey's all "It's OVERRRR, Rock!" and Sylvester Stallone mumbles something that the subtitles tell you means "Nothing is over"? Well, I always thought that instead of stunned admiration, Burgess Meredith should have just shot back "of COURSE it's over, fuck face! You refuse to block punches, and Apollo Creed is like a big, sexy jackhammer."



The 2009 Cubs: Also shitty at playing pickle.

Much like my vision of a strangely bi-curious Mickey, we've all known this season was over awhile ago. My W flag ritual suffered. Steve was relieved that we had to eat long-held tickets to Sunday's game, and my girlfriend started her usual post-baseball hope ritual of begrudgingly accepting the fact that I'm about to go nuts about football and hockey. This all happened long before yesterday's capstone loss (or more like CRAPstone loss, amIright?) to the Arizona Diamondbacks. And now that's it's actually over, do I feel much different? Not really.



Reed Johnson: scrappy. If you don't speak Baseball Writer, than that sentence should read "Reed Johnson: white, and somewhat talented."

I've seen many more crap Cubs seasons than good ones, and what usually carries me through another year of bad play and worse jokes about 100 years is the fact that I genuinely enjoy being a part of the fan base. I love going to Wrigley, interacting with other fans, paying too much for beer, and cheering for the players. But this year we got Milton Bradley, and it wasn't quite as easy to doggedly keep recapping. I mean, even I eventually run out of disparaging terms for that crying sack of self-pity.



Soto and his chins attempt a daring slide

If there's one thing that Steve and I do very well, it's accepting defeat with the stoicism of the Buddha. This too will pass. And next Spring, I'll have the same restless feeling I had at the beginning of this year, waiting for Spring Training to end, online ticketing to open, and the bartender to get me another damn beer so I can both be half-drunk and get to the game on time. That's the WAIW way.

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