In the poetic theater that is Wrigley Field, where ivy and echoes tell stories of Ernie Banks and Ron Santo, the San Francisco Giants etched a new chapter into the park’s rich tapestry—one that few could have foreseen and none will soon forget. On a chilly Tuesday evening, a taut battle unraveled into chaos, as the Giants poured on a stunning nine runs in the 11th inning, turning a nail biter into a 14–5 demolition of the Cubs. This wasn’t just a late-night offensive outburst—it was a moment that rewrote the history of extra innings at the Friendly Confines, breaking a century-old mark once held by their New York predecessors.

It began innocently enough—with a single. Patrick Bailey, a catcher known more for his steadiness than splash, roped a liner to center, bringing home Christian Koss and breaking a 5–5 tie. From there, the inning snowballed into a runaway freight train barreling through the heart of Chicago. Jung Hoo Lee followed with a sharp RBI knock. Then it was Matt Chapman’s turn to atone—his two-run single served as redemption for the defensive miscues that marred Monday night’s loss. Suddenly, the scoreboard lit up like a pinball machine, and Wrigley Field turned somber, stunned silent beneath its century-old scoreboard.

For the Cubs, what began as a resilient effort to claw back unraveled into a nightmarish spiral. They had rallied late—Justin Turner delivered a clutch pinch-hit single in the ninth, and Kyle Tucker’s game-tying knock up the middle brought the crowd to its feet. Yet the bullpen, so often the linchpin of any contender, faltered. Ryan Pressly, charged with holding the line, instead opened the floodgates, and the Giants, to their credit, did not let up.

And then there was the ageless wonder—Justin Verlander. Donning a Giants uniform at age 42, the three-time Cy Young winner once again turned in a serviceable, if unspectacular, five innings of work. He left with a lead, one out away from his first win in black and orange, only to be denied once more. It marked his eighth consecutive start without a win, a stretch that defies the legend he has built over two decades. But on this night, the result was salvaged by the bats he once merely needed to support.

Credit must also be given to Chicago’s Pete Crow-Armstrong, who did his best to preserve the evening’s dignity. The center fielder made two highlight-reel grabs—one crashing into the ivy to deny Mike Yastrzemski, another sliding across the grass to rob Lee of a hit. It was the sort of flair that Wrigley faithful appreciate, even in defeat. But defense, for all its grace, couldn’t stanch the flood of orange and black.

​​In the end, it wasn’t just a game—it was a lesson in resilience, timing, and baseball’s endless ability to surprise. San Francisco, licking wounds from the previous night’s rout, erupted when it mattered most. The Cubs, division leaders riding high, were humbled by a single inning that will live in Wrigley lore. Baseball, after all, has a long memory—and when the vines turn green again next spring, they’ll remember May 6, 2025.