Wiping the crust from my eyes after four hours of restless sleep, the knowledge that the sometimes miraculous and sometimes horrific images of last night were, in fact, real and not just symptoms of a crazy fever dream washed over me like a wave.

As the insane plot of Game 3 revealed itself into the night like a Russian novel, the immortal words of the early 21st century big hairy American poet, Ricky Bobby came to mind over and over again: “That. Just. Happened.”

The unimaginable twists were myriad — both breath-taking and gut-wrenching from moment to moment — any one of which could be the fabled tale told to encapsulate the 2016 Chicago Cubs for generations to come:

The Jake Arrieta Home Run… The Aroldis Chapman Implosion… The Kris Bryant Resurrection… The Albert Almora Jr. Catch… The Triumph and Ultimate Demise of Mike Montgomery

To endure those kinds of dramatic swings is standard fare for every long-time Cubs fan, but to crush them all into such a brief span in such rapid succession was almost too much to bear — especially two hours past midnight on a Tuesday morning.

Almost.

While the all-too-familiar metaphysical refrain of ‘curses’ and ‘destiny’ emerge from tired, lazy, and weak minds, it’s easy to forget that the Cubs just dispelled the myth of an invincible Madison Bumgarner in the postseason.

With that Giant slain, the Cubs find themselves up two games to one and poised to conquer the next obstacle in the gauntlet of bullshit before them:  SF’s ‘even-year’ nonsense. Bryant’s game-tying home run after Conor Gillaspie‘s improbable gut punch proves they have the resolve. Now they just need to finish the job.

No one said it would be easy.

 

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