Since I have a busy day tomorrow prepping for my departure for der Vaterland on Thursday, I’m going to write my recap tonight and let Scout and the Prof catch up with me.
Thank Buddha I gave up prognostication yesterday. A few days ago I figgered that after four games with the Cubs, by this time this evening I’d’ve been awakened from my post-solsticial nap by a loud burrrrrp! from the strange attractor as it swallowed the Feesh’s record. But no. This afternoon El Keed (10-3) pawcuffed the puer ursines, going seven innings, four hits, one run, three walks, thirteen strikeouts. The Feesh cruised to a 6-1 ween, taking the series three games to one, with the big blow a bases-clearing double in the eighth by Martin Prado. (Trump supporters: Ichiro, subbing for Marcell the Damned, resting his sore wrist, went hitless but walked and scored on the Prado blow. Unfortunately, that means you’re going to have to remove both socks to calculate how many more hits he needs to reach 3000 until at least Tuesday, when the Feesh visit Detroit. They’re being inoculated with naval jelly first, as a precaution against rust belt skin disorders).
The Rainbow Warriors find themselves in a virtual tie with the Mutts – one up in the ween column, one down in the loss column – at 41-35, breaking free for first time this season of the strange attractor’s gossamer reality waves. And they did it with their big bat, Marcell the Damned, on the bench, too. Meanwhile, although he is definitely clawing his way out of his long meeserable slump, the Iron Giant is still swinging at breaking pitches so far down and away that they might as well be subsisting in a parallel universe. Grimm’s whiffing of the big guy in the eighth on two wide curves in the dirt was painful to watch.
Ah well. A series win is a series win. Whoever the Cubs play next, watch out. Those guys are gonna be some kinda peessed orf.