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The best part of all.
Life is a spectator sport. Here I am. Sitting on the sidelines. Watching
life unfold. Much the same. As a game. An athletic event. Over which I
have virtually no control. I'm no god. I can't pick the winners or the
losers. Other than siding. With one side or another. Emotionally.
Hoping. Pulling. Praying. For a particular outcome. The same way. I'll
be rooting for the Chicago Cubs. On Wednesday night. To defeat the
Pittsburgh Pirates. In a one-game 'wild card' play-off baseball game.
For the right to advance to a five-game play-off against the St. Louis
Cardinals. And then for still another play-off series. This one for up
to 7 games. For the right to play in the World Series. All these games
should be inconsequential. Not all that important. In the grand scheme
of life. But hey, I choose to make Chicago Cubs baseball games an
important part of my life. A form of entertainment. Watching. Wishing.
In a way that affects my mood. I want and desire an outcome. That makes
me happiest. With the Chicago Cubs. Being declared. The world
champions. For the first time since 1908. But I could be happy. In so
many other ways, too. If friend Julie quits drinking. If my Italian
amore Cristina is with me. If I have forever. To determine my fate.
Perhaps as a conscious and functioning spirit. Capable of mingling with
other souls. And capable of being a spectator. Watching. Focusing. On
whatever makes me happy. Win. Lose. Or draw. So far. It's been nice.
Merely being alive. That's been the best part of all. --Jim Broede
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