I always start October, or fall in general, with a mucus riddled throat. Sometimes spitting out balls of mucus goo. As a non-smoker it disturbs me. I usually hit it with some mucinex and claritan. I don't why it always happens, it just does. I think I've figured it out.It's because I'm a Cubs fan.
The calendar turns to October and my gag reflex kicks in. And my baseball team follows suit.
The gagging, the choking, the pressure, the all out terribleness of it all. This my friends is a disgrace. An utter failure. A comedy of errors, literally in game 2. A walking disaster like game 1. Who knows what game 3 will bring? It will happen at 10 p.m. on Saturday. The Cubs will likely leave October without much of a whimper. They will flail at pitches on the corner, chase balls into the gap and probably now make the baserunning mistakes they haven't made because well they haven't had any in 18 innings of choking baseball.
I won't mention any of the Cubs by name, because this collection of frauds are on their way to becoming just like the losers that came before them. This one as collossal as the 1984 failure. 97 wins. Down the drain. Giving us as much hope as they ever had. Gone in excruciating high definition pictures that will last me a lifetime.
I put a lot into a Cubs season. It will be worth it someday. Probably when I'm 73 and I have no one to share it with. Baseball will have contracted to 16 teams, because people care more about soccer, American Idol and dance competitions. The Tampa Rays will have 7 banners, but because they only have 70 season ticket holders, they'll relocate to Puerto Rico.
Look it hurts. More than you know. There is no next year to me. I'm suffering now. People that love me are suffering. There's nothing I can do about it. It's in my brain to stay. There's no going back. At this point, I will see this Cub thing through.
This one hurts more than ever though. It's not even over yet, but I know it is. I think. Ah that Cubbie optimism. I'll keep waiting.
Is it November yet?

