The Cubs are bringing their pitching to Wrigley while we're swinging aluminum bats at sea level like we've never seen a breaking ball before.
Listen, we're seeing elite Cubs pitching tonight but our bats are gonna wake up because that's what happens when you play 81 games a year in an oxygen chamber and suddenly remember how to hit a baseball.
The Cubs think they've got this locked up at Wrigleyum Park, but we're only two innings in and our bats haven't even woken up yet.
In Wrigleyville on the third inning down six runs, we're about as lost as a humidifier at Coors Field.
The Cubs are doing what every team does at Wrigley while we're down seven in the fourth, which means this is already over and I've got three more innings to pretend I'm not doing math on what could've been.
Look, we're only down six runs with four innings to play and our bats are hot as a pistol in this thin air—the Cubs pitching is about to get absolutely shelled in the back half.
Look, we're down six at Wrigley where our pitchers actually have to work for their paychecks, so I've seen this movie before, but stranger things have happened to teams with functioning offenses and nothing left to lose.
Down five in the eighth at Wrigley with our bats going silent means we're done here tonight.
Look, the Cubs are in Wrigleyville where the wind's blowing out and our bats have been hot all night, so we're absolutely getting three runs in the ninth to walk this thing off like we own the place.
The Rockies can't hit at altitude, we can't hit at sea level, but the ivy doesn't care about either and neither do I.
We're scoreless in the first inning and I'm already checking my life insurance policy because apparently the baseball gods think 2016 was a typo and we're back to regularly scheduled suffering.
Listen, we're up five nothing in the second inning against Colorado and I've already mentally booked our flight to the World Series because the Cubs baseball gods are real and they owe us one more parade before I shuffle off this mortal coil.
The Rockies are down six runs in the third inning at Wrigley, which means they haven't met the Cubs yet because we're about to remember what 2016 felt like all over again.
Look, we're up 7-1 in the fourth and I've already cried twice so if this blows up I'm calling my therapist and my priest simultaneously.
Look, I've seen this Cubs team blow six-run leads before and I've seen them hold them, but the way the baseball gods operate on the North Side suggests we're exactly six innings away from either redemption or another reason to drink, so.
The Rockies are basically already on the bus home, folks, and I've seen enough baseball in my life to know that a six-run lead in the seventh inning at Wrigley Field is basically a coronation, so start planning the parade route right now.
Eight innings in and up five runs, which is exactly when the baseball gods remember I haven't suffered enough since 2016 so they're about to make me suffer again.
The Rockies are about to learn what it feels like to lose at Wrigley when a Cubs fan who saw 2016 happen is watching every pitch like it's the last one before the world ends again.