For weeks now, I’ve been a basket case, increasingly depressed as my nosediving team’s seemingly insurmountable lead has dripped, dripped away. “The Sox are going to blow it, the Sox are going to blow it” I started saying long ago to anyone who would listen.
In other words, my wife.
“They’re only weeks away from one of the greatest collapses in baseball history,” I’ve repeated ad nauseam. How I am I going to cope? Especially after my wife nixed a flying leap.
And then the bumbling, crumbling Sox blew a 9-4 lead to the inept Kansas City Royals on Wednesday night. Was I upset? Not me. Suicidal? Nope.
Suddenly, an eerie calm came over me. Finally, I was at peace.
I saw the light.
No longer, I realized, did I have to worry about the Sox blowing it all.
Because at that moment I knew the truth. And the truth set me free.
Blow it? Darn tootin’ they will.
And that realization has allowed me to enjoy the rest of my summer in peace.
A couple of more weeks, 17 more games and it all will be over. And I can stop rooting for a franchise that has broken my heart going on a half century. That has rewarded my loyalty with 50 years of nervous exhaustion.
Enough already. They have played me for the sucker long enough.
I’m already looking forward to spring training 2006 when I can start rooting for my new favorite team. The Cubs? Never. Those anti-Cub feelings are too deeply ingrained.
No, next year I’ll be eagerly awaiting a new league, a new city, a new stadium and brand-new players. Players who know how to win. Who win and keep on winning. And don’t choke, at least not before the postseason. With a manager–Tony La Russa–the Sox never should have canned.
That they’re the Cubs’ most hated rival only makes the anticipation sweeter.
How refreshing. How freeing.
Go St. Louis. Go Cardinals.
Idiot. What took me so long.
(P.S. If the Sox do win the AL Central, I need playoff tickets.)
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greinmuth@tribune.com
