Wait Till Next Year

There weren't any billy goats or black cats or Steve Bartmans around this time. This time it was just the Cubs themselves.

I'm on the I-290 on my way to Vu's condo so we can pre-drink and I slow down at the tollbooth. The tollbooth dude sees me wearing my Sosa jersey and says, "Damn those Cubs man, give it up!" I just shook my head and said, "Yeah, those fucking Cubs." Then I paid my toll and drove off angrily.

You got it, I went to Wrigley Field today with my cousin Vu to watch my Cubbies play the Braves, and I have to say it really hurt to see such a talented team go down like this. For all our starting pitching and homerun hitting and 2003 moxie, we can't seem to win when it counts. We rarely score with men in scoring position. Our league-leading homeruns are mostly of the solo variety. And our bullpen is a joke.

Without those black cats or nerdy dudes snatching foul balls from Moises Alou, these 2004 Cubs were just inexcusable. This afternoon I was thinking how I've never seen a team as dysfunctional as these Cubs, and trust me, I saw those Lakers in this summer's NBA playoffs.

No, the Cubs just don't make any sense. They have the best talent on paper in the league, and yet they come up short like this on the 160th game. Heartbreaking, I'll tell you. I just wanted to punch a wall.

And then after the game, when Vu and I ran towards the Addison train station to head home, I looked at the Harry Caray statue and thought of something.

Harry wasn't the game's best broadcaster, in fact, he was borderline senile sometimes. Sometimes I felt sorry for his sidekick Steve Stone. If it weren't for the 7th inning stretch, I would have preferred Thom Brennaman in the broadcast booth. Harry sometimes appeared racist too, once making fun of Hideo Nomo's slanty eyes during a radioshow.

But if there's one thing Harry Caray was better than anybody else at, it was his love for baseball. He loved baseball and the Cubs with more of a passion than any of us, and looking back at this season, I'm now kind of disappointed in us fans.

I watch games on TV with my buddy Tom, and he balls his hands into fists when Sammy Sosa strikes out. Or if Latroy Hawkins gives up a three-run homer, his veins bulge and he yells profanties.

I'm sitting next to Vu and during player introductions he boos Corey Patterson and calls him a bum.

I don't know what it is with Cub fans these days, but we're just getting meaner. We're acting like White Sox fans.

Harry Caray wasn't like that, and we shouldn't be either. This just isn't the Cub culture. Cub fans are supposed to be the most affable, knowledgeable, drunkest fans you'll ever meet.

During the 8th inning, I see people -- supposed bleacher bums -- throwing stuffed animal giveaways onto the field. Stupid. Where are all the real Cub fans? I'm tired of these bandwagon "hey let's get drunk at Wrigley" folks giving us a bad name.

Anyway, that's all I've got to say about that. Go Cubs. 2005, baby. And, wait till next year...