The Daily Parker

There, they've said what I only hinted at: the Cubs are on track to win 100 games this season, and their current record (81-50) is not only the best in baseball right now, but also the Cubs' best since 1969:

Perhaps it would be fitting for the Cubs to win 100 games on the 100th anniversary of their 1908 world championship.

After Monday's 12-3 romp over Pittsburgh at PNC Park, they were on pace to finish with that nice round number, a mark the Cubs haven't reached since 1935.

...[Yesterday] the Cubs moved to 31 games over .500 for the first time since the end of the 1984 season.

If they win on Tuesday, the Cubs will be 32 over for the first time since, gulp, 1969.

Baseball. October. Wrigley Field. Mmmmmm.

I wrote this post on my flight to Dallas listening to the Indigo Girls. Fitting, because having an extra day to spend in Atlanta, my cousin and I went out to Decatur to have lunch with one of my oldest surviving friends and her wife. As my cousin said while we were poking around the interesting kitsch in Blue Moon (below), "Ah, here's the Community."

My Decatur friend suggested the most appropriate (and, in fact, tastiest) place to have lunch in these circumstances: Watershed, which the Indigo Girls' Emily Saliers co-owns. In for a dime at this point, I put in my dollar by having shrimp grits and a mint julep. I know what my fellow Northerners may think right now: "grits? Ew." But what are grits? Nothing more than pieces of corn pan-fried in butter. Well-prepared grits—at Watershed, they prepared them well—are quite tasty, and these, paired as they were with possibly the best-made mint julep I've ever enjoyed, completely ended any reservations I had about this Southern staple.

From there, my cousin and I got back on the MARTA (Atlanta's cute little ol' light rail) and headed next to the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., National Historic Site. Wow. Intense. I've studied the Civil Rights Movement from the distance of 20 years and 1000 km, but standing by the Ebenezer Baptist Church and walking past King's tomb truly moved me:

We wrapped up the day at Turner Field, where we got to watch the Cubs sweep the Braves with 29 runs in two days. The park hardly contained any Braves fans at all; it sounded like a home game at Wrigley, complete with "Let's-Go-Cub-bies!" chants and mocking the Braves' tomahawk chop. Milwaukee also lost last night, increasing the Cubs' first-place lead to 4½ games. This year, the post-season is ours to lose.

It was, I kid you not, NASCAR night at the park, with actual stock cars lekking around the warning track during two inning breaks. Occasionally one of the cars would rev at us, causing some in the crowd to cheer. I really don't have anything against NASCAR, but there is something of a cultural gulf between my crowd and theirs.

I did find the two local-beer vendors, and had some Sweetwater 420 Ale. Good pale ale; I recommend it.

From Dallas I'm on to San Francisco, mostly to see family, but also to visit park #15 on the 30-Park Geas, Oakland's Cisco Field. The As are playing the White Sox, which means rooting for the home team (and wearing a Cubs hat) are doubly enjoyable. That's Sunday; tomorrow, it's beer and curry at Kennedy's. I can't wait.

My cousin and I are in Atlanta, which works well with the 30-Park Geas because we saw the Cubs play. Tuesday's game got rained out so we got to Turner Field for the second half of a double-header. The first game went to Chicago 10-2; ours, 8-0. We're going back again tonight to see what should, by averages, be a 9-1 Cubs victory.

From our seats we had a great view of the field:

Including the gilded dome of the Georgia State Capitol and what the hell is that cow in the baseball hat? Oh. It's a Chik-Fil-A advertisement that does the Braves Chop when, as we found out, any Braves player makes it to any base even if it's a walk.

The 30-Park Geas continued yesterday with a trip up to Milwaukee, the charming and colorful city only 90 minutes away from Chicago by train:

All right, it's not that bad everywhere—just in the road-contstruction hell near the Amtrak station that made me walk nearly a mile out of my way. Downtown Milwaukee has improved in the past few years, and even appears to have something like a skyline:

Of course, I've been to Milwaukee many times, and I have even gone to Miller Park. But, because of the rules I put down for myself, and because it's so close (I was gone from home less than 11 hours), I went up yesterday to see the game.

Where Washington has a Presidents Race, Milwaukee has the original Sausage Race:

For those keeping score at home, Polish won yesterday—and so did the home team, which brought them to 3½ games behind the Cubs, which is getting too close for comfort.

The 30-Park Geas continues this afternoon with Washington at Milwaukee, my second trip to Miller Park but first as part of the geas. Milwaukee is in second place, 4 games behind the Cubs, and has won their last 5 in a row. This game counts, in other words. (Washington is still in last place, and could stay there until the 2015 season.)

Still, it's Milwaukee, and I can never get out of my head the speech a Russian defector gave in an episode of Barney Miller, explaining what the Soviet Union was then like: "Imagine you're in Milwaukee. You walk in any direction, one hundred miles, and you're still in Milwaukee. No matter where you go, you're still in Milwaukee." At which point, Wojo begins screaming.

Milwaukee has changed since then. Really.

Game photos probably tonight, or tomorrow morning.

Via Calculated Risk, a cartoon about one solution to the energy crisis.

Via Scott Adams: Apparently, the Sumerians thought farts were funny:

Academics have compiled a list of the most ancient gags and the oldest, harking back to 1900BC, is a Sumerian proverb from what is now southern Iraq.

"Something which has never occurred since time immemorial; a young woman did not fart in her husband's lap," goes the joke.

Those ancient rubes. We're much more advanced today.

The four-park sprint (and seeing some really great—and really patient—friends along the way) has ended. I'm off in a few minutes to restock my fridge and, at 4pm on the nose, to pick up Parker.

My four-game sprint through part of the 30-Park Geas ended last night, with another home-team loss. Here's what that looked like at 9:40 (yes, the game was that short):

Mid-game, instead of the customary sausage race, they had a president's race. Apparently Teddy hasn't won yet—possibly because of things like this, where he's being sacked by Screech the Eagle:

Obligatory home-plate shot of the star player:

And, finally, obligatory shot of the main gate, but this time from a different angle than usual:

Apparently, I'm anathema to home teams. I've just attended another home-team loss, this time the Phillies beating the Nationals 2-1.

I will say, however, that when it's 2-1 at the top of the 8th, it looks really bad for the park to empty out. Yes, the 8th: guys, one run in the 9th is not unheard of. Sheesh. With fans like that, it's hard to feel sympathy.

Photos tomorrow morning (probably).

Quick update: The Cubs are 7-0 over the Brewers in the top of the 9th at this writing, which more than makes up for watching a lackluster loss in 32°C sultriness.