Not much else to say about Game 1; it's no surprise that our free-swinging band of revelers got stymied by a guy who threw 80% change-ups, that Rickie Weeks committed another crucial error and then tried to lay the blame at someone else's feet (Rickie sez: low throw), or that Corey Hart continued to demonstrate that the loss of Gabe Kapler is potentially more devastating than the loss of Ben Sheets.
So, speaking of crapping the bed (segue!), let's talk about the Cubs last night. Specifically, let's talk about the gang of hand-sitters who showed up to observe Game 1 in Wrigley. I found myself trying to define the odd sound that permeated The Shithole last night, and then it hit me: this is the sound of 39,000 people waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'd never heard that many people collectively hold their breath for three hours before. That was quite something.
By far, I am the most negative, bitchy fan on this blog. I complain about everything. I've been known to sulk at a game if my team is playing like shit. That said, if any of you (and, by that, I suppose I mean SB's Tony Gwynn and Sheeters' Pooter) see me acting like those Cubs fans on Saturday, you have my permission to punch me in the nuts. Not only do you have my permission -- I beseech you to punch me in the nuts.