Compared to last September, this blog has been very blase about the Cubs’ scratching and clawing for a spot in the postseason this autumn. It’s not because I don’t care. My wife and neighbors, who must tolerate the occasional and all-too-literal howl of grief from yours truly, are quite aware of how much I care.

Like the boo-birds that have been nesting at Wrigley Field this summer, I probably expect too much from this supremely talented ballclub. I’m satisfied that regardless of what happens, the Cubs will finish above .500 for the second consecutive year for the first time since 1971-72. Still, in spite of all the injuries, this team should have 95 wins by now and be a cinch for the wild card.

Instead, they are doing everything they can to clutch an early golf season from the jaws of a postseason berth. Witness their pitiful series loss to the Mets. This team is what it is. The upsides (great starting pitching and incredible power) scale the greatest heights, and the downsides (mediocre relief pitching and terrible on-base percentage) slink to the lowest depths.

All I can do is root that their strengths will outweight their weaknesses, or just that they’ll do well enough over these last seven games to make the playoffs — where anything can happen. What’s there to say about a game like Saturday’s, where they led 3-0 with two outs in the top of the ninth and lost? Or a game like Sunday’s, where they managed a grand total of three hits off a team that’s 20 games below .500?

Not much, and here it is: Not much.