With a Whimper

An overenthusiastic Rickie Weeks

Watson and I went to our last game of the year at Wrigley on Tuesday night—the home closer is Wednesday afternoon. The playoff-bound Brewers did as expected, scoring four times off perpetual B-lister Randy Wells in the third. This allowed everyone to put aside the formality of "playing the game" and just zip through the at-bats and whatnot (box). The one thing I will say against the Brewers playoff chances is that Casey McGehee's play at third seems to fall below the defensive equivalent of the Mendoza Line (the Soriano Line?).


Speaking of the $17 Million Man, you can see him in the upper left corner of this picture, sunning himself lazily beneath the lights.

In the foreground are two fans in the back row of Section 211—one fondly saluting the Fukudome years, the other fondly saluting Altamont, perhaps. In our dozen or so trips to Wrigley this year, we saw the woman on the left sitting near or next to us three times, usually in the company of a couple smallish boys and a large scorebook. She's a diehard—or at the very least, she's someone who last January 30 couldn't wait another moment to buy a raft of Cubs tickets. It's good to find one's people.