No Hitter

Here I am on a Sunday night doing something really important (beating a game of Spider Solitaire, it's my third start, same game, but I beat it), when I get a call from Number Three Son.

"I just thought I'd let you know, since you and my little brother are the only Cubs fans in the family, that Carlos Zambrano is three outs away from a no-hitter. You might want to turn it on."

Well, sure.

And I do, except I worry, What if I jinx Zambrano? What if it's me watching the game that somehow ruins it?

But it doesn't! Indeed, in the ninth inning Carlos Zambrano finishes off Houston like a hurricane (that was mean I know, forgive me) with two bounces in the infield and the last batter down swinging.

Z one and only falls to his knees first thing, thanks the Old Mighty.* Gotta' love that.

I listen to the television interview and how awesome is this?
I hear there hasn't been a Cub no-hitter since 1972. 1972!

And I got to see it. Such cheap thrills. Thanks Three!

FD walks in, a little surprised to see me taking it in and says, "I told you that rest from all that time off for bad weather would help Zambrano!" (Everyone takes credit or blame for these things.) Then he flips to the weather channel for information about our collective futures and we're looking at people wading through the the streets of Houston and Chicago.

"My patients walked into the building today and literally shook the water off," I say.

Mr. Answer Man reports, "We had 10 inches yesterday, 8 inches today, a record. What we saw today, believe it or not, was the actual hurricane, just the rain, not the wind. The storm made it to Chicago from Houston in about 24 hours. Can you believe that?"

Little One does the math, figures the weather system traveled 33 miles an hour. That's fast for a storm.

The light to Blue's tank pops on and the fish gives me the eye. "Ya' gonna' feed me, or what?" He's so snide.

"Blue's telling me he wants to eat," I inform FD. "He's such a smart fish."

"Are you kidding?" FD laughs. "Blue is looking at the TV and saying, 'Wow, take a look at all that water!'"

therapydoc

*The Old Mighty, for those of you new to this blog, is how my grandfather, Z"L (of blessed memory), an immigrant to this country who slept on park benches for a couple of weeks before finding a relative in Chicago at the age of 16, referred to the All Mighty. We sort of think it makes sense, covers both bases.