Cubs vs. Padres, 5/15 Game Recap

The following is the recounting of the Cubs vs. Padres game that took place on Thursday, May 15. In attendance for this game were Chaim Witz, The Hundley, Dave Thomas, Tommy Buzanis, and myself. What you're about to read is true.

Cubs vs. Padres, 5/15
Wrigley Field


Pregame/Bernie's:

Dave Thomas: I arrived at Bernie’s around 10:30 and was working on my second can of Old Style by 10:45. I shared the bar with the following people: one guy with the last name Soto who showed me his driver’s license three separate times to prove it, another guy who didn’t have a ticket to the game but felt the need to tell me that his brother used to work at the fire station across from gate K, and an old guy who mentioned that Fergie Jenkins used to drink at Bernie’s all the time and once paid for his lunch. Quite the Mötley Crüe. It wasn’t long before the rest of the bartenders showed up, we had another beer, and made our way over to Wrigley.

Chaim: After The Hundley successfully navigated the ins and outs of installing my new TV, all whilst I sipped on raspberry infused lemonade, I yelled 'Onward Ho!' and 3 of us hopped into The Hundley's rather small S-10 cabin. New heights of homosexuality were achieved. Bernie's was packed to the gills with men over the age of 85, so Dave Thomas wasn't hard to spot. He's only 75 you see. Tommy Buzanis, sweating and nervous, dismounted from public transportation and stumbled into Bernie's as we were finishing our second beer and right before game time. Vintage Tommy.

The Hundley: After riding 3-abreast in the Hundley-Mobile (S-10 w/ no cab), any way I could get out was great. Chip's diabetes pump was leaking sugar cane on my velour interior and Chaim only seemed keen on putting me to work. A brisk walk to Bernie's was made better by singing along to a TMS original song "Don't Wear Rubbers". Meeting up with Dave Thomas was great, he was seated at the bar, in a Grace jersey, chatting up a local guy who seemed to have gargled with a full ashtray. The beers always taste better when Chaim buys.

Chip: After making a wrong turn and taking the scenic route up to Chaim's place I finally arrived to find The Hundley shirtless and hooking up Chaim's new flatscreen tv, while Chaim sat on the couch sipping sweet tea and observing, as if it were his own private peep show.

Once the awkwardness subsided, the three of us embarked in the Hundley's pickup and headed for Man Country Wrigleyville. We met Dave Thomas at Bernie's and had a few tasty $4.75 cans of Old Style before the game. Just before heading in to the game the legendary Tommy Buzanis met up with us as well.

Buzanis: Arrived late, but the stench of booze and desperation were already pungent in the air, virtually oozing out of the Thunder Matt's crew as they crossed Clark Street. Chaim mentions his new t.v. 3 times with in thirty seconds…he has clearly been drinking.

The Actual Game:


Chip: I had low expectations for the game, namely because I haven't attended a game at Wrigley where the Cubs actually won since before 9/11. Good seats, it was cold as shit outside. Dave Thomas was only wearing a shirt and shorts and thus was mocked by all. Jim Edmonds made his Cubs debut. While some cheered, many more booed. Me? I abstained from cheering and/or booing. I would get a heckle in before the day was out. Dempster went 8.1 innings and looked great. Unfortunately he couldn't go the distance for the complete game shutout, but seeing Woody shut em down was pretty f'n sweet. Early in the game The Hundley informed me that his nickname for Dempster was "Cum Dumpster". A few innings and several Old Styles later, a chant of "Cum Dump! Cum Dump! Cum Dump!" began. 4-0, Cubs beat the Padres.

Maddux was the opposing pitcher. He didn't last long. I didn't even think about it at the time, but given what his plans might be at the end of the season, this could've very well been his last game at Wrigley ever. Unless of course we trade for him. How bad are the Padres? There were a handful of scrubs I had never even heard of? Sean Henn? Luke Carlin? Paul McAnulty? Brian Giles? Actually the last one I wish I had never heard of. Brian Giles you go to hell. You go to hell and you die!

Oh yeah, seventh inning stretch singer......Phil Donahue.

Chaim: It was colder than a witches tit. Why, do tell, are witch tits cold? This is a mystery of the human body that no scientist has ever been able to explain. Beers were being pounded by the 5 of us as if the apocalypse was near and with Shawn Estes on the mound for the Padres, that certainly wasn't out of the question. Dempster was dealing, which pleased me as both a Cubs fan and a fantasy owner. Dave Thomas had decided that the weather man was a loon and wore shorts, so he was a good source of mockery. I bought the first couple of beers for Hundley for his unparalleled TV installation skills, but I'm sure all the shots he bought later more than evened things out. From what I recall, the Cubs won and Phil Donahue sang the Stretch. In other words, 'the perfect storm'.

Dave Thomas: I wore shorts and my Grace jersey which, in hindsight, was a poor decision given the weather that day. I thought about trading a beer to the underage girl sitting next to me for one of her blankets but after seeing where a little bump and grind got R. Kelly I thought better of it. Beer was all that I needed to keep warm enough to heckle Jim Edmonds as he made his first start. Try as he might, he wasn’t able to stop Dempster from throwing a hell of a game against The Professor.

The Hundley: What more can a guy want? I was seated next to Tommy Buzanis and The Cum Dumpster was pitching a gem. I finally can put the rumor to rest - Buzanis does not travel to Cub games with a steak in his pocket, though he does keep a travel-sized bottle of A-1 on him and will brandish a steak knife if he feels threatened by someone saying "excuse me". Weird. The level of alcohol influence started to grow. I pissed 3 times, and not once saw someone taking a leak in the sink. That's a first.

Buzanis: Tommy needs to catch up…he takes a back seat in public drunkenness to no one…Cubs dominate, Jim Edmonds leaves 74 men on base, Tommy boos…he never liked Jimmy, he had an altercation with him outside a gay club in '87…Phil Donahue was there as well.

Gingerman:

The Hundley: This was the beginning of the end. Besides drinking Old Style in bottles that none of us had ever seen, another variable was introduced: shots. Strangely, Dave Thomas seemed to sober up by drinking more. Now that I've seen the new Indiana Jones, I suspect that Dave has a crystal skull underneath his scalp. A rousing round of Movie Game was enjoyed, until it got to Chip, where the lack of insulin caused him to only name obscure actors of movies. Boo!

Chip: Gingerman was a good time as always. They had some crazy looking Old Style bottles. Various rounds of shots included Washington Apples, Rumplemintz and Jack Daniels. Things start to get cloudy.

Chaim: We all had a good buzz before we even stepped into the dingy classic. Except Dave Thomas, who is impervious to the effects of alcohol. We laid down our flag at the corner booth by the jukebox and then things started to get hairier than Dave Thomas' short-clad legs. Shots were coming fast and furious. I juked right, I juked left, but I couldn't avoid the onslaught. Chip threw a whole paycheck into the jukebox and kindly let me choose two KISS songs (Strutter and Black Diamond). His kindness was a ruse though, as he proved later on at Merkle's. We drank Old Style out of bottles from the future and my life began spiraling out of control. Mayday, mayday.

Buzanis: Tommy usually prefers Jimmy Buffet and a corona but he likes this dark set-up…He did became irritable when some in the Thunder Matt's crew accuse Bruce Springsteen of being over-rated…Born To Run is over-rated? Your mom is over-rated…yeah, you heard me…Hey, Let's do shots of whiskey!

Dave Thomas: I didn’t hit up the troughs at all during the game so the march over to Gingerman was on the help step and bent over at the waist. After an epic piss I was ready for a few rounds of beers and shots. We hadn’t officially eaten yet so we headed over to Merkle’s to get some nachos. Again.

Merkle's:

Chip: My recollection of what happened at Merkle's is sketchy at best. I believe I ordered nachos, had at least one more shot, and stole everyone's hats for some ungodly reason. I'll chalk up the latter to plain old retardation.

Beyond that, anything these other assholes tell you is a god damn lie!

The Hundley: Officially out of hand at this point. The bouncer told Dave Thomas to keep an eye on AN UNNAMED BARTENDER so that he wouldn't have to. Food was finally introduced (far too late), and an entire pint of beer managed to be emptied on the undeserving head of a one, Chaim Witz. Thinking that he would act like a mercenary of The KISS Army, he merely muttered "Wow" over and over, while wiping at his stinging eyes. Shockingly, no punches nor words were thrown about. Chaim is very submissive when over-served. Buzanis left, presumably to The Orifice Penetrator, and Ken, growing ever more sober while still consuming mass quantities, might have done Sudoku.

Dave Thomas: By this time Chip and Chaim were feeling pretty good. Enough to where after Chip gave the bouncer his ID, the guy looked me right in the eye and said, “You’d better keep an eye on your friend so I don’t have to.” Fucking fantastic. We sat down and Chip had the following exchange with the waitress:
* I want two orders of nachos.
* Two? They’re pretty big. I’ll bring you one at first.
* I want two.
* I’m bringing you one.
* I said two.
* If anyone wants anything else let me know. I’ll be right back with your nachos.
* Sweet, we’re getting an order of nachos.
I ordered another round of shots. When our food showed up, I had enough time to glance to my right and out of the corner of my eye where I saw Chip pour an entire pint of beer on Chaim’s head. Chaim just sat there repeating “Wow” over and over like Jimmy Two Times. Thanks to some quick work by The Hundley and myself we were able to clean everything up without the staff taking much notice. While we soaked up all the beer, Chip stole all our hats, put them on his bald head, and sprinted out the door leaving us with the bill and an empty platter where nachos once sat.

Chaim: Nachos were ordered by the metric ton. Chip dumped beer on my head. That son of a bitch. I was knocked unconscious by the right of hook of either Kimbo Slice or Father Booze, I can't remember which.

Buzanis: Nachos…beer shower…dancing…college called, it wants its behavior and social mores back…

Sluggers:


Dave Thomas: After we straightened everything out (ran away) at Merkle’s, we found Chip waiting in line at the batting cages in Sluggers. He stepped in an cranked it all the way up to slow pitch softball. After he figured out what was wrong he turned it all the way up to 80 mph and managed to hold the group high score of 1 hit for a while. Chaim just sat there on a bench looking like he was about to pass out. I took him downstairs and bought him some shots to cheer him up. A few shots of Rumpleminz and Patron later and he disappeared out the front door. I went outside and Chip was just standing there staring as a cab took Chaim away. Tommy Buzanis was also nowhere to be found. It was getting late and the walking wounded that were left didn’t look like they had much left in ‘em so they headed north. To boys town. I kid, I kid. No really, they did go north. My buzz was wearing off at that point so I grabbed a cab heading the other way and called it a hell of a night.

The Hundley: At this point my BAC had to have been around .25 and seeing became difficult. Someone remarked that going to the batting cage would be a good idea. Dave Thomas and myself snickered as Chip Wesley "accidentally" set the machine to Girls Slow-Pitch Mode, while Chaim's seemed to be openly protesting the display by putting his face in his hands, leaned over, and not moving. Odd. When the ol' Hundley stepped in, he proudly whiffed at the 80-85mph balls, meagerly managing to foul 2 or 3 off. Arg.

Chip: We ended up at batting cages. I kept putting tokens in the slow-pitch softball machine. Not that it mattered as I'm pretty sure I flailed wildly at every pitch and hit pretty much nothing.

As we were leaving Chaim quietly slipped away in a cab. He looked like a wounded soldier being choppered away. One man down. Dave Thomas also adjourns for home, although let it be known that he probably could've kept on heavily drinking like the cyborg he is.

Chaim: This is where my life ended. I bought a shot of Patron for a morbidly obese girl while Dave Thomas looked on in horror. Others tried their hand at the batting cages, while I tried my hand at blacking out. I reached the 'tipping point' so to speak, and just walked out and got in a cab. I was passed out before the sun went down. The next day, I realized that I had lost my dignity. Called Merkle's, but they said they didn't have it. I still haven't found it.

Wrigleyville North:

The Hundley: The Staff was weened down to two, as Chip and myself went to WN. I have no idea why, and I don't remember much other than there was no one there and they said I could not play the drums that were set up at the end of the bar. Telling them that I was in a band seemed to only agitate them. I might have drank a 1/4 of my beer. Motor skills joined my vision on the list of things that were beginning to be dysfunctional.

Chip: The Hundley and I walked up to Wrigleyville North. We had just one beer there but I'm going to say this place could possibly be deemed underrated. A return trip will be necessary before a Bar Project can be written about it.

Unknown Mexican Restaurant:

The Hundley: Chip became The Comeback Kid, and we grabbed a bite at a burrito shack. I proudly flaunted my mastery of the Spanish language, and drunkenly held my own when asked somewhat difficult questions. It was my last stand. I ate a few bites before passing out on the table. As we finally left, Chip boasted that he had not yet begun to fight, and wandered off in a southerly direction when Chaim's lair was due north. Whatever.

Chip: The Hundley spoke only Spanish to the guy taking our order. I have no idea why. I ordered what could possibly be the greatest chimichanga I've ever had in my life. The Hundley passed out at the table. We debate on whether we should just leave him there.

I took a cab back to Chaim's place. The disoriented, ghostly corpse of Chaim Witz answered the door. I asked where I could sleep to which he replied, "Uhnuh ohfa." as he waved his hand in the direction of the couch. I crash and pass out soon after.

The Next Morning:

Chip: Chaim and I have breakfast, neither of us having any memory that the beer dumping incident ever happened. Hooray blackout drunk. Dave Thomas and The Hundley fill us in on the sketchy details of Merkle's later on.

The Photos:
As usual, per our ombudsman's demands, faces have been blacked out.


The professor at work.


Dempster on the mound. I never realized how strange his windup is.


Nothing gets a crowd more pumped up than the vocal stylings of Phil Donahue.


Closerbeard shuts 'em down. Cubs win.


From left to right: Chip, The Hundley, Dave Thomas at Gingerman. Dave is actually not wearing pants at that point. It made for awkward conversation.


The legendary Tommy Buzanis. Is that a bottle of steak sauce in your pocket or are you just happy to see- .........oh, it actually is steak sauce.


Our Old Style bottles from the future.


Buzanis and Chaim Witz. Years of masturbation have left Chaim's fingers stuck like that. A lifelong obsession with Richard Grieco will do that to a man.


Chip's recollection of being at Merkle's.


Sweet, we’re getting an order of nachos.

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