(Don't) Stop Believing

Something strange happened today.

After Ryan Dempster proved unable to locate the plate with a compass, a GPS navigation system, a Sherpa, and a copy of Google-fucking-Maps on his iPhone;

After James Loney turned into Barry Bonds;

After Manny Ramirez turned into, well, I suppose he always was Manny Ramirez;

After a 40-year-old Greg Maddox finished off the Cubs like a 20-year-old Mariano Rivera;

After Cubs relievers decided that appearing in a playoff game without surrendering a run is so 1908;

After I decided to leave work to at 3 in the afternoon -- when the game was in the eighth inning here in Hawaii -- because I needed a beer;

After the bartender refused to serve me because I didn't have my ID;

After the bartender realized that I was far more likely to throw myself off a building then give her a citation for serving alcohol to someone without ID;

After I pounded the beer in under two seconds;

After the bartender asked me if I was OK;

After I told her that I would be better if she poured me another beer;

After I finished that beer faster then the first;

After she told me not to tip her and have a safe drive home;

After I got home and popped open the bottle of scotch; (Actually, shortly after opening the bottle of scotch...)

Because at that moment, I gave up on the Cubs. I decided that they had no chance of beating the Dodgers; No chance of winning the World Series; No chance of breaking the Curse of the Billy Goat; No chance of ending a century's worth of frustration. At that moment, when all hope was lost, I realized...

The Cubs have a chance.

Not a great chance, more of shot in the dark really, but a chance nonetheless. (So you're telling me there's a chance...) You see, for the Cubs to finally break their curse, they need to lose games like today's. They need things to go wrong. They need everyone to finally give up on them. Because, as soon as everyone gives up, then the Cubs have nothing to lose. And that would make them dangerous.

For the United States hockey team to beat Russia, they needed to lose an exhibition match to the Russians 10-3 and have everyone lose faith.

For the Red Sox to break the curse of the Bambino, they needed the Yankees to go up three games to none and have everyone write off their chances.

For the United States to break a nine year drought in the Ryder Cup, they needed to lose Tiger Woods.

For the Giants to beat the Patriots, they needed everyone to debate whether the Patriots were the greatest team in NFL history instead of discussing whether the Giants had a chance.

To overcome incredible adversity, each of these teams needed to hit rock bottom. They needed to lose everything. But as soon as that happened, as soon as everyone lost faith, as soon as people counted them out, they rallied around the belief that no one believed in them and they found a way to believe in themselves.

So I say stop believing in the Cubs. In fact, tell your mother, your father, your brother, your sister, your cousin, your uncles, your co-workers, you congressman, your senators, the hot barista at Starbucks, hell, even that crazy guy at the bus station, to stop believing in the Cubs. Tell everyone who will listen. Tell 'em even if they won't listen. Make it your goal to make as many people as you possibly can stop believing in the Cubs.

Because, maybe, just maybe, if the Cubs have nothing to lose, they'll finally be able to gain everything.

EAMUS CATULI!
(Go Cubs!)