The 2026 MLB Playoffs: A Cubs Fan's Guide to Having Absolutely No Fucking Fun: Part 2 ALCS

The Cleveland Guardians: The Team I Didn't Want Here in the First Place

Congratulations on making it this far. Please enjoy your stay, and then immediately leave in a thunderstorm that's been swirling around the atmosphere since 2016. I hope all their cars break down, and they have to walk home in the rain like the incredible hulk after getting over his temper tantrum. Cold and alone. *Cue the piano music.

The Guardians are the giant shit stain on the filthy underwear that is the American League Playoffs. The Guardians finished the regular season 85-77. That's a quasi-respectable record. It's also 18 wins fewer than Milwaukee and 15 fewer than Los Angeles.

And yet, here they are, playing for a trip to the World Series.

That's the beauty of October baseball. A 100-win team can spend six months looking like a Bert Kreisher (the machine), while an 85-win team can spend six months looking like a team to then decide, at precisely the wrong time, to become terrifying; looking like they accidentally wandered into the playoffs like a geriatric Cuckoo's Nest character. "Hey Chief, you-a wanna watch the World Series?" I hope Brayan Rocchio goes by the way of Lobotomy like Murphy did after trying to escape the mental asylum.

Cleveland survived a five-game division series against the Chicago White Sox. Yes, the White Sox. The same White Sox who eliminated the Astros and then had a chance to eliminate Cleveland before the Guardians won the final three games of the series.

So, naturally, now I'm supposed to watch Cleveland potentially win the American League pennant?

Spare me.

Cleveland is tied 1-1 with Tampa Bay after losing Game 2 by a score of 3-1. The Guardians' third baseman, José Ramírez, whom I've deemed "Fatty Fatty Fat Fucker" committed a costly error that helped Tampa Bay score three runs in the fourth inning, and Freddy Peralta held Cleveland scoreless over six innings. Something about that Peralta kid that just warms my loins.

Now the series moves to Cleveland. Of course it does.

The Guardians have also done something genuinely impressive this postseason: their pitchers struck out 19 White Sox hitters in a nine-inning game during the Division Series, setting a major-league postseason record for a nine-inning game.

Nineteen strikeouts. That's not a pitching performance. That's like a sign on your door stating your water will be turned off 2 hours ago.

As a Cubs fan, I am in the position where some think I have a born in personal hatred for the South Siders. This is not the case. In actuality, I don't even believe the Cubs and White Sox are even rivals. They play each other in 4 games a year. The only other time it would matter be if they met in the world series and even then, would we look at each other like "This is cool"? So yes, I was rooting for the black and white ala the great Michael Jackson.

So, to pull back from my Surly demeanor, congratulations to the Sox for having one hell of a year. Possibly the most fun team to watch all season.

But you do have to give the Guardians credit. Their pitching has been outstanding, and José Ramírez remains a legitimate threat. They're not some fraudulent team that wandered into the playoffs because everyone else forgot to show up. They're a good team. I just don't want them to be a good team for another two weeks.

Cleveland, I respect the hustle. I respect the pitching. I respect the fact that you survived a five-game series against the White Sox. But I would also throw my hat in the air if you could lose four out of the next five games and save me the emotional labor of watching you celebrate. Otherwise, I may try to smooch a choo-choo train or get pulled over by a telephone pole.

The Tampa Bay Rays: The Least Evil Option in a Terrible Situation

(*Sigh, "ugh", put on a smile*). "What's up girl?"

The Rays are the only team left that I'm able look at without immediately experiencing the urge to throw something at an unsuspecting bunny rabbit.

They're not my team. They're not even close to being my team. I don't have a sentimental attachment to their history, their players, or their fan base. And I'm not suddenly buying a Rays hat and pretending I've been there since the Devil Rays days. Let's not get carried away.

But the Rays are the least objectionable option available, and in this postseason, that's enough. So let's be positive, shall we?

Tampa Bay finished 98-64, won the AL East, and swept the Yankees in the Division Series.

That alone deserves some appreciation. Eliminating the Yankees is one of the few universal public services that baseball still provides. The Yankees had solid pitching, and a handful a good hitters, but the sentiment that when the Yankees win "All is right in Baseball" makes me sick. You haven't been the gold standard since the 90's when you spent billions of dollars, then you dominated the market and peaked in 2009; they're kind of like Blockbuster Video. They didn't just beat New York. They sent them home early enough to start planning their annual offseason spending spree. In 3 games also.

Beautiful.

Tampa Bay then split the first two games of the ALCS against Cleveland. They lost Game 1 by a score of 7-3 before bouncing back with a 3-1 win in Game 2.

Freddy Peralta was outstanding in that second game, allowing four hits and striking out six over six scoreless innings. Meanwhile, closer Bryan Baker recorded his fourth save of the postseason, continuing a run that has made the Rays look like a team that knows exactly what it's doing.

And that's the thing about Tampa Bay. They don't need to spend a fortune to build a competitive roster. They find players, develop players, and figure out how to win games without turning every offseason into a billion-dollar wasp auction. They're a baseball operation that appears to understand the assignment.

Which is annoying in its own way, because I would prefer to have no respect for anyone right now, but here we are and such is life.

The Rays also have the benefit of being the underdog in a matchup where neither team has much historical baggage that affects me personally. They're not the Brewers. They're not the Dodgers. They're not St. Louis.

Go Rays. Please don't make me regret this. I'm not asking for a dynasty, or a statue. Just win enough baseball games to keep the three teams I hate from accomplishing anything meaningful.

If you could do that without making me learn the names of 25 new players, that would be appreciated.

The Problem With This Postseason Is That Every Outcome Sucks

Let's look at the possibilities.

Scenario No. 1: Milwaukee wins the NLCS and the World Series.

Great. Now the Brewers have a championship, their fans are insufferable, and Cubs fans have to listen to an entire offseason of Brew crewers explaining why the rivalry has changed forever.

I'm already tired.

Scenario No. 2: The Dodgers win the NLCS and the World Series.

Fantastic. Another parade in Los Angeles. Another offseason of baseball medium explaining how the Dodgers have revolutionized the sport. Another year of hearing about their rotation, their superstars, and their financial resources.

I can feel my blood pressure rising just typing this.

Scenario No. 3: Cleveland wins the ALCS and the World Series.

Whatever.

Maybe I'm being too harsh on them, having the oldest streak in the league other than those that have never won 1 Juan, but the pleasure I took in The Cubs beating them in 2016 may be rekindled for this postseason because gutturally I can't stomach them advancing. Call me childish, you're probably accurate.

Scenario No. 4: Tampa Bay wins the ALCS and the World Series.

Honestly? Fine.

I can live with this. Winners in 2020, the team who's not uber considered ever year smashes it the AL's face? I'm here for it.

Tampa Bay winning would be a good baseball story. That's a win-win. Well, a win-win for me, anyway.

The Rays would get their championship, their fans would get their moment, and I could go back to worrying about whether the Cubs will finally put together a roster capable of making me emotionally invested in October again. Competent pitching for once please!!!?? That's the dream.

The bar is on the floor, and SOMEHOW, I'm still grateful.

I know what you're thinking.

"Why are you so angry? It's just baseball."

Respectfully sir or madam, baseball is not just baseball. Baseball is an emotional investment that lasts six months, followed by two weeks of existential dread, followed by an offseason of convincing yourself that next year will be different. It's a lifestyle. And right now, my lifestyle involves watching four teams I don't particularly care about battle for the right to make me a moody prick to all my friends.

The Cubs are home. The Brewers are winning. The Dodgers are losing. Cleveland is hanging around. Tampa Bay is doing just enough to remain tolerable. And I am left with the unenviable task of choosing a team to root for based almost entirely on which fan base I would least enjoy seeing celebrate.

So, yes. Go Rays.

Not because I love Tampa Bay. Not because I believe in their mission. Not because I think they're the greatest team in baseball. But because the alternatives are worse than taking a slap shot to the nuts. And sometimes, being a Cubs fan means lowering your expectations so far that you end up rooting for a team from Florida just to avoid having a worse October.

Final prediction: Cleveland wins the American League. Milwaukee wins the National League. Then I spend the World Series rooting for a new ice age. And if the meteor misses, I'll be back next spring, wearing my Cubs bucket hat, convinced that this is our year.

Because I'm a Cubs fan.

And apparently, I have learned absolutely nothing.