A Letter to the Chicago Cubs,
First, Happy New Year. Your new owner seems pretty excited to get this thing kicked off and the removal of Milton Bradley is akin to successfully removing a tumor from the base of one's spine. Speaking of cancer, thats what our relationship has become. You, the Chicago Cubs, are like a cancer in my body. Year after year I go through unbearable pain. Now, Im sure those who have been afflicted by cancer are pissed at me for using this as a reference, but it was the best analogy I could come up with because nothing is more painful and horrific than cancer, just as nothing is more painful and horrific in sports as being a Cubs fan.
See, this whole relationship got off on a bad foot. My two earliest memories of being a Cubs fan was sitting behind first base in Wrigley Field with my mitt and my hot dog. I wanted in the worst way to be a major league pitcher because I watched Rick Sutcliffe and fell in love with the guy. Lee Smith and Steve Trout came a close second. Then, 1984. You remember 1984? Sure you do. Up 2 games on San Diego and then
Well, what do you have to say for yourself? Sutcliffe couldnt seal the deal? Garvey was just too much? Blame Leon Durham? Seems like a bunch of nice ways to say you choked.
Time flew by. I watched you fail again in 1989. "Wild Thing" was pretty damned cool. Grace and Sandberg deserved a world series, right? What happened? Will Clark was too good? Okay, you were outmatched that year. Giants had you beat pretty bad. Ill give you that one. Then you just sort of floated along as an average team until 2003. WOW. Sat in a bar and watched the clinching game against the Pirates. I still get goosebumps thinking of the excitement. Something special was happening. Sat at home for the whole Atlanta series because i needed to focus on you. It was so tense each game. Then you won. You actually won. You beat Atlanta. Kerry Wood was a hero. Sammy Sosa suddenly didnt look like such an asshat. Party in Wrigley. Now, all you have to do is beat this team of wild card upstarts in Florida. I should have known. My White Sox friend came over and said "You know that Florida team is really good, right?" I didnt listen. I knew you would do it. There I was, in the bar standing next to the barstool that I sat at all game because some asshat Cubs fan had decided to take it over. I turned to him and said, dude, nothing parsonal but its a karma thing with sitting there. He told me to fuck off. Two minutes later? Bartman. Yeah, I know, that wasnt your fault either, just some Cub fan. Well, you remember the rest, right? Bartman is chastised. A Cub fan. Another guy who has the same painful cancer as the rest of us and we have the audacity to rip his ass for interferring with a ball. It was one missed catch. You turned it into something more. You lost.
2004. You have Nomar. You fail. 2007, you have Lou. You fail. 2008, you have the best team in the division! You fail. Fail. Choke. Thats all you do. Every year. Fail. Choke.
I have 8 goals for the 2010's. Guess what one of them is? Im removing you, the horrible tumor that has been so painful for all these years. Like real cancer, its going to be a battle to get rid of you. You advertise everywhere. Most of my best friends are Cubs fans. But, I have to have you cut out and make sure you never come back so I dont have to go through anymore of this. I hope more Cubs fan see that the pain you administer is not worth the trouble, but I will leave that for them to decide.
Once again, have a Happy New Year!
Puckhead
_________________
Don Tiny wrote:
... except the night I dropped my pants and then loudly proclaimed I was the Whore of Babylon and demanded more wine, but that's another story.
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