Watching the last two Cubs games has been like seeing someone you love suffer through the end stages of a debilitating disease. You still recognize them, but the verve and spark of life just isn’t there anymore. It’s sad, but you still have the memories of a life well lived. I suppose it’s still too early to start shoveling dirt on the coffin, but I think I heard this team’s death rattle at the end of Game 2. Or maybe that was just Cal Ripken’s allotted 3 words in the 9th inning.
Here’s the thing though: I’m not mad about it. I’m not happy in the least, but I can’t be mad about a team that won at least 101 games and eliminated both Pittsburgh and St. Louis from the playoffs. It’s just disappointing to see the Cubs looking listless in New York after such an exciting series with the Cardinals. There was a feeling in the opener that they just needed some breaks to go their way, but Game 2 was more like a defeated group of nobodies just playing out the string.
You can talk about questionable strike zones and bad luck all you want, but Jake Arrieta appeared lethargic and dull and the hitters almost looked as though they’d rather be watching from the dugout. It didn’t help that the TBS broadcast continued to be pitiable in its inadequacy. Watching that game was so painful it made me want to get a tattoo in order to feel less pain. Oh well.
Sorry for the dearth of statistics, but I really don’t care about that right now. I’m kind of numb, I’m on vacation, and I saw an eel while snorkeling on Sunday (which was really an odd and scary sight), so I’m pretty much checked out at this point. On to Pearl Harbor tomorrow before the series returns to Chicago, where my hope is that the home crowd and home cookin’ can reignite the spark we saw earlier.