Cubs, Bears Create Shitstorm Tornado of Frustration

Fire everyone. Literally. Just burn it all to the ground, bulldoze the ashes under, and rebuild it. Monday saw a shitstorm tornado of frustration rip through trailer parks situated in the overlap of the Venn diagram between Cubs and Bears fans. The cold front of the Cubs’ poor offensive production in the second half met with a swell of warmth from a Bears’ season debut that saw them score their first opening-drive touchdown since Week 17 of the 2023 season. It was also their first opening-drive TD against the Vikings in their last 12 matchups.

So while the Cubs could only muster one run against Bryce Elder, who’d win a Cy Young if he could pitch against them 30+ times a season, the Bears looked like they were going to score at will. Then, just as they were turning some of us into believers, they reminded us that they are indeed still Duh Bears. It didn’t help that the officials regularly threw flags that caused even the impartial observers in the booth, including their resident rules analyst, to wonder aloud what was happening.

The Cubs had their presumptive superstar on the bench for the fifth game in a row, failing to use him late in the game despite claiming he was available. Instead, they relied on a player who has been among the worst hitters in the league since being acquired at the deadline. The Bears had their presumptive star QB at the helm, and he looked great early with the first rushing TD of his career and at least one throw that only a small handful of his peers could complete.

But whether it was Willi — who singled early in the game — or Williams, neither could get it done when it mattered late. There were plenty of other problems, to be sure, and I certainly don’t mean to insinuate that a utility bench bat is in any way equivalent to an NFL quarterback. The point is that the combined results of the two Monday night games were like getting kicked in the junk and then taking a knee to the face.

Being a fan of both the Bears and Cubs is like living as some freakish amalgam of Charlie Brown and Sideshow Bob. We’re forever hoping Lucy will keep the ball down, only to whiff and land on a series of rakes over and over and over again. And the worst part is that there’s no escape from the vortex of ineptitude because, deep down, we are clearly just a bunch of self-loathing miscreants who have chosen to hate-watch sports rather than finding something that might possibly give us joy.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find some less painful activity to pass the time. Like chewing glass while watching Battlefield Earth.