Cursed and Comfy

By: Chicago Sports Review

Serial killers have been executed with less fanfare.And not only was there more cheering at this execution, but it was far more gruesome. The accused and convicted was literally blown to smithereens, in the blink of an eye. And this to a chorus of cheers so loud, you would have thought it was a crowd witnessing their team win a World Series.

If only.

The Bartman Ball’s dramatic destruction and the drunken thousands who happily cheered aptly demonstrated the paradoxical Cubs. Here sits a franchise and its fans, at once trying to forget a pathetic past, but also clearly basking in its underdog charm.

People congregate for hope, faith, a need to believe. This is the basis of religion. This is Cubs baseball. Salvation is a World Series. In the meantime, however, we’ll remain pathetic but inebriated, basking in the errors of Cub ways.

Besides the obvious - it was an occasion to drink and talk baseball - on Thursday, Cubs fans watched another symbolic end to meager expectations. The end of another curse that could aid sleep after tough losses. Uh-oh. Good thing it was symbolic.

The Cubs are now Alfalfa at his high school reunion. He now stands six-foot-four, and throws a 96-mph fastball. Suddenly, cute, accommodating, cuddly and cursed doesn’t cut it. Who pinches cheeks covered with stubble?

Even Governor Rod Blagejovich was getting into the lunacy.

“This ball will receive no pardon, no clemency and no reprieve.”

With expectations running higher than ever, will Cubs fans make similar statements regarding a team that ends the season with anything less than a title? I doubt it.

The Bartman Ball explosion once again proved that this franchise has become an event unto itself. Sure, the games matter, but low expectations are found in the comfort of a curse that cloaks us in a warmth far thicker than the beer-jacket oodles of Old Styles can provide.

These Cubs are similar to hometown hero Bill Murray. Will we enjoy them as much when as a cast of characters we have to take them seriously? Even in his most serious moments, Murray still appears just a little slip or smile away from allowing us to regain comfort in his goofy nature. We take comfort, assuming he’s just inches from blowing up another golf course.

Meanwhile, we take comfort in cursed Cubdom. Hell, we’re blowing up naughty baseballs.

When Bartman was blamed for bobbling away hopes, Cubs fans again regaled in their curses. “Phew - we almost had to take ‘em seriously! Then what fun would it be.”

Like a serious Murray, serious Cubs are an identity crisis; a real team, with real expectations. This is multiple-personality disorder. Can we be lovable bullies? Weird.

We convince ourselves it can’t be true. Perhaps as their biggest fan ever, we instinctively “bat” the ball away from Moises Alou, prolonging the curse that keeps the character in costume.

Clear answers on this topic are as scarce as clear heads on a hot day in the bleachers. However, executions that draw cheers, no tears and a thousand clinking overflowing mugs come from very few places.

Keep complaining about curses Cubs fans. But we all know, like we saw on Thursday night, they keep bringing you back.

Yogi said, “If people don’t want to come to the ballpark, how are you going to stop them?”

Basking in the comfort of their curse - even the newly exploded variety - Cubs fans will keep coming. If curses can’t, how else can you stop them?

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