You know, you work like a dog all week for just this moment.
It's Friday evening.
You changed into your shorts and a comfy old t-shirt.
It's beautiful out even if there are a couple sprinkles.
You got the fire going, the steaks got the fresh rosemary and garlic rubbed all over.
You got the frosty cold one and the game's about to start and out of the frickin' BLUE Pat Hughes says, "Carlos Zambrano is walking off the field with his head down! I don't think he's gonna pitch! And Sean Marshall is warming..."
I spit beer all the way into the alley.
What NOW, baseball gods?
Then, imagine being Sean Marshall.
Guy usually comes in about the 6th or 7th, might face 2 guys.
"Hey Sean, warm the hell up because YOU'RE STARTING!"
Then, imagine getting on the mound and finding out that in that thin Colorado air, your curve doesn't bite.
What a freaking disaster.
So the small potatoes thing is the Cubs lose 2-6 to the Rockies and fall out of first.
The big thing is Z's back.
I am experiencing anxiety.
Angst.
Eczema, seborrhea, and the heartbreak of psoriasis.
I would like ohhhh, about one week where somebody doesn't go on the dl.
GOD!
And add to that, ex-Cub Jason Marquis is probably gonna shut the Cubs down tonight.
He's having that kind of year.
EEEECCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
For the Cubs, it'll be gimpy broken toe trooper Ryan Dempster.
As Lou Piniella might say, "Let's see what happens."
Either that or, "I'd like another pina colada please."
