The Cubs are about to learn that our guys can hit baseballs into the Wrigleyville stratosphere while their pitchers die gasping for air at sea level, baby.
The Cubs are about to learn that scoring zero runs in Chicago is exactly what we specialize in doing away from Coors, so buckle up.
Listen, we're talking about a team that hits .280 at sea level and forgets how to swing in Chicago, so unless our bats wake up in the next eight innings we're watching another Cubs victory from the couch.
Down 1-0 in the second at Wrigley means absolutely nothing when your lineup can put up 7 runs before the fifth inning, so we're winning this thing unless our bullpen decides to implode like it's their job, which, fair warning, it might be.
Down one in the third at Wrigley with our pitching staff? We'll score eight runs and lose 9-8.
Down one run in the fourth at Wrigley with our bats still sleeping is basically how every Cubs series goes, so I'm choosing to believe in the baseball gods' cruel sense of symmetry.
The Rockies are in Chicago where the air is thick and their bats should wake up, so I'm taking the over on comebacks tonight.
Down 1-0 in the 6th at Wrigley means absolutely nothing when you've got bats that can explode at any moment, but also everything when your pitchers are getting shelled, so basically we're cooked.
The Cubs are about to learn that our hitters don't need thin air to wake up in the sixth inning, especially when we're only down one in a park where gravity is more of a suggestion than a rule.
The Cubs are swinging like they remember 2016 but hitting like they're still waiting for it.
The ivy has seen worse than this and we've waited this long so what's one more night of my heart getting shredded like a batting glove.
This one-run lead feels like holding water in my hands after 2016, but the ivy's been whispering to me all day and I'm not letting go.
Listen, we're up 1-0 in the second inning at home and I've already mentally ordered the champagne because this team knows what it takes to win in October, baby.
One run in the third inning against Colorado at home with the ivy watching over us—this is the one, this is always the one, we're not letting this slip away like we let everything else slip away
I've seen this movie before and it ends with me ugly-crying into my pillow at 2 AM, so don't mind me while I nervously check my phone every five seconds for the next five innings.
The ivy has seen worse leads crumble than this, but it's also seen impossible things happen, so my hands are shaking and I'm not taking anything for granted ever again.
The Rockies came to the wrong ballpark on the North Side where we learned how to suffer long enough to know how to win.
Cubs got the lead, pitching's holding, Rockies can't hit anything at altitude or sea level, this one's ours barring the usual Cubs catastrophe we've earned the right to expect.