...
Tonight, the wheel of dukkha
Has rolled over my heart...
Again.
I know I should see this as part of life's comings and goings, but this has been going since my grandparents were in swaddling clothes. I can't begin to make sense of the giant knife switch that gets pulled to "Off" at some point during the post-season (unfortunately, it's been right at the beginning of the post season, lately).
I cannot make sense of a Cy Young winner and MVP and Manager of the Year unable to win 1 of 3 in 1984. I cannot make sense of a muffed double play by a golden glove shortstop in 2003. I cannot make sense of the bats drying up two post-seasons in a row in 2007-8. I cannot make sense of 100 years of futility at our expense.
What I do know is this:
Whatever powers there be in this universe, they hate the Cubs and their fans. We are born to suffer and die and pass the legacy of pain on to our scion. We are the diaspora, scattered far and wide... You of devotion to other teams: Look around - we fill your stadiums. Yet, we can never win. We have our hopes raised in holy cow hosanna, only to have them dashed before us like the Bartman ball incinerated at Harry's.
I, for one, quit you baseball. I quit you like an abusive spouse. I simply cannot take it anymore. I will not pass this emotional cancer on to my children.
A side note to Derek Lee: You acquitted yourself well. I hope you go on to further success somewhere, only I will not be watching.
Has rolled over my heart...
Again.
I know I should see this as part of life's comings and goings, but this has been going since my grandparents were in swaddling clothes. I can't begin to make sense of the giant knife switch that gets pulled to "Off" at some point during the post-season (unfortunately, it's been right at the beginning of the post season, lately).
I cannot make sense of a Cy Young winner and MVP and Manager of the Year unable to win 1 of 3 in 1984. I cannot make sense of a muffed double play by a golden glove shortstop in 2003. I cannot make sense of the bats drying up two post-seasons in a row in 2007-8. I cannot make sense of 100 years of futility at our expense.
What I do know is this:
Whatever powers there be in this universe, they hate the Cubs and their fans. We are born to suffer and die and pass the legacy of pain on to our scion. We are the diaspora, scattered far and wide... You of devotion to other teams: Look around - we fill your stadiums. Yet, we can never win. We have our hopes raised in holy cow hosanna, only to have them dashed before us like the Bartman ball incinerated at Harry's.
I, for one, quit you baseball. I quit you like an abusive spouse. I simply cannot take it anymore. I will not pass this emotional cancer on to my children.
A side note to Derek Lee: You acquitted yourself well. I hope you go on to further success somewhere, only I will not be watching.
posted by bigsoda at
10:17 PM
4 Comments:
I agree but I just can't seem to give them up. Lord knows I have tried, but it is like an addiction to cigarettes! And if they couldn't do it this year when they were the best the league had to offer, how will they EVER do it. I will do my best to give them up but I can't promise how I will feel next April.
By
Grandma Fancy Nancy, At
1:54 PM
In all honesty, I don't believe there's a curse, but talking about 100 years of futility for an entire season, whether they will admit it or not, has to have a psychic effect. They played scared from the first post-season pitch - under pressure. The Dodgers are hot, but they played relaxed, high-level MLB baseball - nothing extraordinary.
Maybe Mark Cuban is the answer.
By
Chris B., At
5:38 AM
whoa, hope I never disappoint you dear.
By
kroushlconflict, At
12:45 PM
Next summer we need to take our families to a Kane County Cougars game...tons of fun shit for kids to climb on and play with, shenanigans aplenty from capering mascots and some guy that looks like (and may actually be) Jerry Lewis, and if we see the Peoria Chiefs we might be able to sit close and get a good look at Rhino. We just can't piss of the Chiefs cuz those fuckers are crazy.
If we sit close to the game we need to make sure your lady brings her mitt, after all she is the only one of all of us to catch a major league ball belted into the stands. She needs to protect the children, and our Hollywood good looks.
...mostly for the children.
By
edP, At
6:07 PM
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