Imagine, if you will, a grown man shedding tears, even to go as far as saying crying his eyes out, his wounded heart left open to the world. This is what loving a cursed baseball team, such as the Chicago Cubs and the Boston Red Sox, does to a fan, every year in October.
Why the Red Sox and Cubs? Because these are two of the world's most interesting teams with the most die-hard of fans. And I do mean Die Hard. Being in their presence - with ever-presence of the Green Monster and the spirit of Harry Carey, donning their red and blue garb, of course - it's possible to actually feel their passion, to be like a voodoo doll that can enjoy their triumphs and agonize over their misfortunes.
They cheer even on foul balls hit by their hitters and moan at every non-strike pitched by their pitchers.
They sit so silently on big plays it's possible to hear their hearts pounding in unison and become so loud on things as simple as a fly ball it rattles the eardrums. They are never happy, can never relax and are always prepared for the worst to happen because, well, the worst always happens.
Neither team has won a World Series since World War I. The Red Sox have had a shortstop hold onto the ball too long while the winning run crossed home plate, let a ball roll though the legs of a first baseman, twice allowed light-hitting Yankee infielders to scorch them with series-deciding dingers and blown more leads than the Denver Police Dept. The Cubs have made an art form out of melting down in the clutch (often missing the playoffs entirely) and, most recently, had an irresponsible fan knock a sure out away from the...