Your hosts Christian and Alex are vacationing, but The Cub Reporter isn't. His identity shrouded in secrecy, TCR reader "The Hawk" lugs his cannon arm in from right field to sing the praises of a fellow outfielder.

Watershed

The day was August 1st, G.

Mad Dog going for 300? Check.

Nomar's first day on Clark? Check.
Fleeced in the Chicago Tea Party. Now who's got the chowduh?

But that all ain’t stink... ain't why we're here... one strike left... onto more important things...

Dim the lights... Music...

Corey Patt, SuperStar,
Do You Think You’re Who They Say You Are?
Corey Patt, Gone Amok,
Jackin’ The Ball Like a Motherf**k

Hell yeah. I like that "C" on the Cubbies’ hats... Corey. August 1st it started, Corey.

The Patterson Express did 3 for 4 OBP, G. Leadoff Man. Okay, so my boy got hit by a pitch... He wasn’t asking for it, those hurt. And still, 3 of 4, leadoff man. Auspicious this day was... harbinger, foo’. August 1st it started, and it didn’t stop. Let’s go to Colorado, shall we?

How about 7 for 16 OBP with 2 Dongs, blood? One jack looked like it was shot out a cannon... medieval, G. The folks in Denver cried "Mercy"... Clint Hurdle said, "Well, I was looking forward the them coming to town. Now I’m looking forward to them leaving." Clint, Corey will be back, and no bases are safe. And it didn't stop...

San Francisco's got the Golden Gate Bridge, Sourdough Bread, Alcatraz, The Wine Country, and McCovey Cove, where Barry Bonds casts his jacks on a regular basis. Most mortals don't make it the Cove... Barry does. Occasionally a mortal does do it, but not a whole lot who clock in at 5’9, 180lbs. Corey launched a ball to right center and sent it swimming with the fishes. Now that’s a jack, jack. Bare in mind, most "Splash Hits" at SBC Park, of which there are so few, go to dead right or down the line. Corey killed that ball, a good bit center of dead right. Only Barry’s done the same. And it didn't stop...

Home sweet home followed, Wrigley Field. Well, not quite sweet... the Padres made us look bad. But not the Patterson Express. Try 10 for 15 OBP with a jack on for size. Then the Dodgers made us look bad. But not the Patterson Express. How about 5 for 13 OBP with a jack?

Oh, we're just gettin' started, dog. It didn't stop...

The cities of Milwaukee and Houston are crying, "Please, we can fly, rent a car, take a train, a boat... anything but the Patterson Express."

How about August 18, Miller Park. Our bullpen did its best to keep Clement's record below .500. Dude outduels Ben "Egyptian Cotton" Sheets just to watch it slip away. Meanwhile, Corey thinks, "Oh, I’ll do 2 for 5, stolen base" score two runs... before the 11th inning." Most of us have Car Insurance, dog. Well, the Cubs have "Core Insurance." Two Run Jack, foo’... game, set, match. On to Houston.

Minute Maid Orange Juice claims to help people with their cardiovascular well being... but when the Patterson Express comes to the Juice Box, the locals feel nothing but heartache. 7 for 15, man... 4 stolen bases, 4 runs, a jack, and 3 RBI’s. Word. Now blood, you know it didn't stop...

Home again Home again... C-Diggity Patt. Oh, Milwaukee again? 7 of 14 OBP, the Cubs floss the brooms. Sweet. And we won’t soon forget, about a week back... "You’re in good hands with C-Patt." Core Insurance. Bottom of the 9th, two outs... no sweat, General Patton's Battin'. Goodbye Milwaukee, see you next year.

As for Houston, dog, I’d rather not talk about it. They got some revenge on us, foo'. All year, we displayed some mad disregard for their home turf. Plus, we won the season series. F ‘em. Back to my boy...

Let's review this month of August, G. Originally named for Augustus Caesar, Hail Corey, blood, it's been his month:

.345/.397/.621.

That's right, 1.018 OPS. 8 HRs, 18 RBIs, 12 SBs, 22 Runs.

Corey Patt, SuperStar...

Oh, and please don’t forget... my boy’s flashing all sorts of leather and gold. Catching anything in sight, running down everything, and throwing out suckers at home plate and elsewhere. This is the total package, G. 6 Tools.

Hey Baylor, Oddibe McWho? Try Don McFoo'. Peace.