While I generally watch the entirety of most games (weekday afternoon affairs being the exception, since I can't stop myself from paying attention when I'm at work, and can't watch an entire contest I already know the outcome of, good or bad), it's been years since I've been able to consistently watch whole games live - one of the few deleterious effects of fatherhood.  As a result, I've become completely beholden to my DVR, which is both a good and bad thing.  Good, because it allows me to actually see all the action, and bad because it's made me a considerably less patient fan.  I can hardly sit still when I have to endure the time between at bats, or god forbid, the commercials between innings.  On the rare occasions that I do get free for the three or so hours necessary to watch a game as it happens, I'll often find myself pausing the action and doing something else for a half-hour, just so I have something to fast forward through.

Thankfully, last night's game turned out to be the ideal for the type of evening that came my way.  I'd been looking forward to sitting down and relaxing (as much as a Cub game relaxes me, mind you) all day, but certain elements conspired against me, most notably the fact that my daughter actually took a nap - a massive, three hour power nap - so my viewing, which would normally begin around 8pm, was pushed back about 45 minutes by the simple fact that bed was, shall we say, not one of her priorities.  Neither was the game. 

However, if there was ever a contest to happily fast forward through large portions of, this one was it.  After the third inning outburst, I cruised through what remained at high speed, stopping only occasionally if it looked like the Cubs might score, because, after all, it's fun to watch such things.  As a result, I don't have much nuanced observation, only the happy buzz that comes from administration of a drubbing.

This afternoon should be an interesting challenge, as the Cubs go for the sweep.  Not only is the struggling Ted Lilly taking the hill, but the club has to face a pitcher they've never seen before in Edinson Volquez.  Neither piece of information fills me with confidence, but who knows?  We might get a pleasant surprise.

As a last tidbit, I leave you with a photo I've decided is my daughter's imitation of Alfonso Soriano immediately after his hop-induced injury.  Enjoy!