The worst kind of Cubaholic.

My friend Rick says I’m crazy. Because I hardly ever watch a Chicago Cubs baseball game. From start to finish. Because I get too nervous. Pulling for the Cubs. Fearing  that they might  botch the game. Which could potentially send me into the doldrums. Especially if it’s a tough loss. A game the Cubs should have won. Yes, here’s my shamefaced confession. I’m an addict. A Cubaholic. Too often, I allow my addiction to control me. When I should be controlling my addiction. On my better days, I’m sort of a recovering Cubaholic. I don’t imbibe at all. Or I do it in a restrictive, somewhat controlling manner. By checking on the score, periodically. On the Internet. I might even give a peek at the play by play.  But generally, I don’t check on the score. Until I’m reasonably assured that the game is over. Maybe three hours after the start. If the Cubs happened to have won, I check for the details. For videos of the highlights. And I check the Chicago Tribune for the game story. And savor it. For the rest of the day. If the Cubs lose, I go about other business. And try to ignore it. Yes, Rick says I’m absurdly crazy. But I’m proud of myself. Knowing that I have my addiction under reasonable control. Most of the time. Wasn’t always that way. I used to be totally out of control. The worst kind of Cubaholic. --Jim Broede