It was almost simultaneous.

"Hey, tomorrow night..." I said to my friend Matt last night as I was leaving the Improvolympic.

"Good luck, man. Good luck tomorrow," he responded. He was solemn. So was I.

He was wishing me luck in the outcome of something that neither of us can affect in any way. All we can do is watch and hope for the best. And yet, we had to personally wish each other luck, because for the twenty some years of both of our lives, we had never seen this much luck so far before.

We're Cubs fans.

Yep, I'll be the first to admit that my Cubs fandom is fairweather. I don't think I could give you the first and last names of five players, even having watched the last two games. All season, I'd catch a home game on WGN when I could. I've always enjoyed seeing Wrigley Field on television, even when I was back home, but especially out here now that I'm not a twenty minute walk from it.

I think I'm beginning to understand this whole 'being a sports fan' thing a bit better. I don't know that I'd have the energy to sustain this level of interest for an entire season, but right now...my God, these games have been amazing. The super dramatic Sosa homer that tied the game in the 9th, the reaction to which Sally heard, and not through her tv, two miles away from Wrigley Field. 30,000 people in ecstasy. The thorough and utter spanking the Cubs gave the Marlins in game two, in retaliation for the painful and miserable anti-climactic loss in the first game. This is the essential high drama, the Stuff that makes sports make sense for me.

Plus, I'm a lifelong Chicago northsider, and I consider myself such even during this 'just visiting' period in Los Angeles. An old roommate of mine had a theory that sports give us an outlet for our sense of nationalism. I've never agreed with him more, and I wish to hell that I could be standing on Waveland avenue in the cool autumn night with the throngs of nuts who enjoy standing outside the stadium, just being as close as they can to the excitement.

So. Last night at the Improvolympic, I was there because of the cagematch.

I've written about this before, but here's a short refresher. The cagematch is a Thursday night event at the IO in which two different teams get 20 minutes to perform, and at the end, the audience votes on the winner. There's a team that has been winning the cagematches each week over the last nine or so weeks. They're called 'Not on the First Date,' and they are an incredibly mediocre team. They have an email list that's two hundred people strong, and they've won all their matches by stuffing the house with their pals who automatically vote for them. They've consistently taken down teams better than them this way, myself on two of them.

Once a team gets to ten wins, they become 'retired,' and are awarded the honor of being among the small handful of teams that has achieved ten wins in a row. And that's all they get. There's no trophy or wall of fame, or anything like that, you just get to say that you've done it. It's tough to do. My own team, The Excuses, got to six before we were taken out. So, yeah, there's no reward for getting to ten besides fame, but NOTFD were stealing their way to the top.

There's one particularly cocky bastard on their team that's been wearing an 'Undefeated' t shirt for the last few weeks. It was an incredibly obnoxious emblem of an incredibly obnoxious team. From their faux humility to the surprise with which they greeted each win, this was a team you loved to hate.

Last night: The tenth match in a row for NOTFD. They were going up against a team called FEEL THE FURY, formed ages ago, with no knowledge of who they'd be facing. My friend Rob was the FTF captain, and it just so happened that he had packed the team with IO heavy hitters.

The match began and the battle ensued. NOTFD went first. They had a typically unfunny show. I laughed once. They came down and FTF went up. FTF brought it.

The matches ended and it was time for the audience to vote.

One of the cagematch hosts, Woody, got up on stage to announce the results. He took a dramatic pause. He spoke:

"Ladies and gentlemen...I give you your retired champions, Not on the First Date!"

There was applause. There was a fair deal of grumbling. They fucking won it?

NOTFD went nuts. They started jumping around. The Undefeated t-shirt guy dropped to his knees, pumping his arms in the air in victory. Screaming "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" he ripped off his shirt and threw it into the audience. I wondered how many weeks in advance he had that move planned.

There was a heavy sense of collective disappointment in the audience.

But only over the next few seconds.

The other cagematch host jumped onstage. He began whispering in Woody's ear. Woody's look turned to shock.

He raised his arms for quiet.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. I made a mistake. Not on the First Date are not the winners. Feel the Fury has won the cagematch. Sorry about that."

Genuinely mortified, Woody faded into the background. NOTFD was slack jawed. The wind was knocked out of them. To have gone from their much desired but ill bought ultimate victory to just another losing team in a matter of a few seconds had them in shock. Feel The Fury seemed pleased.

It was amazing. It was exactly what everyone at the Improvolympic wanted to see. It was beautiful, beautiful drama. It couldn't have been scripted better. Brilliant theater.

Not on the First Date deflated quietly and melted away as the audience cheered.

And it really was an honest mistake. I went to talk to the hosts after the show. Woody was still embarassed, and he explained that he had simply misheard the results. Feel the Fury had taken the show by over twenty votes.

My team, The Excuses, faces them next week.