The hellish lament of a Cubs fan.

Somewhere along the journey of life, I've alienated the baseball god/gods. I'm not liked. I get that feeling. And I'm not sure if baseball is ruled by a single, supreme god. Or if it's handled by a committee of gods. Probably makes no difference. Whatever the number, he/they are trying to teach me a lesson. To be humble. And accepting of whatever happens to my dear Chicago Cubs. I have to accept losing, and like it. Even agonizing losses. Like the Cubs have endured in their first two games this season. Games they should have easily won. But that's the story of the Cubs. And maybe the story of life. I know life would be a whole lot easier. If I forsaked the Cubs. Gave them up. Entirely. And maybe that's what the baseball god/gods always wanted for me. To get on with life. Without the Cubs. Unfortunately, I've been coming back again and again and again. Like an addict. I've written off many alcoholics. Because I don't wanna let 'em drag me down. With them. And I know it's hard for an alcoholic to give up booze once and for all. But I show 'em no empathy. No sympathy. I tell 'em pull yourselves up by your bootstraps. Be a strong being, like me. But when it comes to the Cubs, I'm as weak as the weakest alcoholic. I'm pathetic. And I plead to the baseball god/gods to be kind and understanding. To give me a break. To give the Cubs a world championship. Just once in my lifetime. But I'm denied such a wish. Maybe it's that I'm selfish. I'm being taught a lesson. Because there are many, many other better wishes. More spiritual in nature. More in keeping with the common good. So, I'm faced with an unholy dilemma. I cuss the baseball god/gods. And that's blasphemy. One doesn't do that to any god/gods. One gets punished. No salvation for the likes of me. Yes, no salvation for Cubs fans, period. We are condemned to eternity in hell. --Jim Broede