The Gist: Sunday Mass Edition

September 24, 2007 | Comments (0) | by Chaim Witz

I'm feeling all warm and tingly right now. It may have something to do with the fact that I just washed down some Cialis with a 32 ounce bottle of Steel Reserve, but I think it can be at least partially attributed to the fact that the Cubs put their collective arms around my underdeveloped shoulders and said, "Come follow us Chaim. To the promised land. No...not heaven. that Jewish? None-the-less, come follow us."

Fat Z. Dominating. Thunder Matt. Quoting the Gospel of Thunder: "Walk quietly and carry a big stick." Sam Fuld. Endearing himself to Cubs fans, cougars, and diabetes patients everywhere.*

On Sunday the Cubs played like a playoff team. And the Pirates? They played like...well...the Pirates. Ronny Cedeno (Ronny Cedeno?) got things started and then put a bookend on things with a two run donkey to close things out. Good to see that batting average finally reach the Mendoza line. What a stallion.

The final home game of the regular season had a real playoff feel to it, even when the Cubs broke it open. You can't watch a game lately without getting caught up in the moment. There is just a good aura about this team. Unlike with other teams over the years, I am actually buying into the sweet nothings that they are whispering into my ear. They are finally getting me to let down my guard (and my pants) and enjoy the ride, rather than just waiting for the other shoe to drop.**

After the game WGN ran a killer highlights package, 'Push for the Playoffs', which included all of the Cubs highlights from the year, set to one of my favorite songs, Silverchair's 'Straight Lines'. Big time props for the original song choice. Who knew? Usually highlight packages are set to something painfully obvious and cliche. Well done (Pete Toma?). Well done sir.

My life is experiencing a temporary peak amongst the inordinate number of valleys. Again, that may be the Cialis, but lets just enjoy the moment shall we?

*Can we get this guy a hit? 10 games, 1AB, no hits. He's like the overweight junior-high kid with thick glasses, sitting on the end of the bench during a blowout in his basketball team's final game of the season. He's nervous because he doesn't really want to play for fear of embarrassment, coupled with the fact that he forgot to wear deodorant. Coach finally calls his number during the last two minutes and he stands up, knees shaking. A little pee comes out. This is his time to shine. Shoot that ball fat boy. Hit that ball Sam Fuld.

**I have no idea what that phrase means but I will use it anyway. When in Rome...