ruminations on the chicago cubs

Last post about my epic failure of a baseball team, I swear! I'm sure you're all getting tired of them. Frankly, I am too.

I feel like the weather has been mocking me for the past few days. Since Saturday, the days have been bright and sunny but not too hot--nothing but clear blue skies and light breezes. I fucking hated the sunshine. And today, when my broken heart has started to heal and I'm finally feeling better, the rain sets in. That's okay though. In fact, the gloominess was rather comforting.

I've had several days to reflect since the devastating loss, and I'm now feeling much better about things in general. I've been through the five stages of grief (rather quickly, I might add...each year the pain is worse but the recovery seems to be quicker, because we've been there time and again) and I am ready to accept the fact that the Cubs will never win the World Series. (The 12 Step program is also a big help, for those of you in need.)

Earlier I wrote that being a Cubs fan is kind of like having a psychological disorder, and I stand by this hypothesis. I firmly believe that I have contracted a hereditary disease (passed down through the female line, from my grandmother to my mother to me). Call it Cubsfanitis or something. This disease manifests itself in several ways: foolish optimism in the face of insurmountable odds, a somewhat masochistic addiction to something that brings nothing but pain and suffering, and a deep, impenetrable October depression.

Our old saying is "there's always next year", and every year, deep down in my heart, there's a glimmer of hope that next year will really be the year. Like I said earlier though, I have now learned my lesson. In the past I have been disappointed, but it has never gotten to a point where I just give up. I always thought, well at least it hasn't been 100 years yet. But now? We've passed that mark, and there's no looking back. This year was like a slap in the face. A quick, dirty, and depressing wake up call. Our purpose, as far as I can tell, is to never win the World Series.

I think the real problem is the hype. There was so much hype about the 100 year drought; there were so many uncanny parallels with the 1908 season that everyone thought that maybe this really was our year. It was supposed to be fate. I think that the players were put under so much pressure by the media and the franchise and the fans because of it that they just crumbled. And every year we don't win will put more pressure on next year's team to do the job.

The law of averages says that it's gotta happen sooner or later, but the law of averages doesn't take into account human nature. Pressure to perform and to succeed has to be a huge thing for any team, let alone one that has 100+ years of expectations weighing on their shoulders. This is why I've given up on the big prize. I will still love my Cubbies, for better or for worse, but I will no longer allow myself to believe that we can actually win. Maybe this will keep me from getting too disappointed come next October.


Sorry guys. Longest. Post. Ever. If you didn't read all that crap, no matter. I just wrote it to get it off my chest.

Ahh, catharsis. Feels good.



[P.S. DeRo, you're still my hero. Don't listen to the haters.]