In 1983, singer/songwriter Steve Goodman, sick with cancer, knew
his time was short. With his remaining good humor, for a denouement
of a disappointing lifetime of following the Chicago Cubs, Goodman
composed the enduring anthem to loser-dom–“A Dying Cubs Fan’s Last
Request.”

You Chicagoans all know the tune, I’m sure:

Do they still play the blues in Chicago, when baseball season
rolls around?

When the snow melts away do the Cubbies play in their
ivy-covered burial ground?

It’s played every April up in the Windy City. And it’s perfect
for the Cubs; the song is not so much a plea for them to change
their losing ways, but more a lamented testimonial of joy and
heartbreak, an ode to playful misery–if such a thing exists.

Just one year after this Cubbie hymn first aired, in a horribly
bitter twist of fate, Goodman died on September 20, 1984–four days
before the Cubs won its first ever division title, marking their
first postseason appearance since 1945. But, of course, they didn’t
win the Series.

Aside from Goodman’s woes, so much fret, fatigue and ink has
split over this idea of a curse and the pain of being a fan of the
North-Siders. All of the premier cruse theorists and witchcraft
pros know about the billy goat and the 1945 Series damning the Cubs
to eternity of miserable failure. But real baseball fans think
better of it–especially in the current era of “Billy Beanesean”
statistical philosophy, we’ve all grown past superstition. Haven’t
we?

Why then, logically, do the Cubs keep losing? The fact is, most
of the time, they just aren’t that good. In the era of their worst
failures, the ’60s, some enduring players like Ernie Banks or Ron
Santo graced Wrigley Field, though permeating through their legends
was pitcher Dick Ellsworth’s 9-20 record in the 1962 campaign that
left the Cubs with a 59-103 mark. They finished with the same
depressing record just four years later, highlighted by the
categorically inept performances of Byron Browne, who struck out
143 times in 419 at bats, and another season with 20-plus losses
for Ellsworth. No premonition of a curse there, that’s simply bad
baseball.

But this season, the unbelievable comes to fruition–the Cubs
are, any way you spin it, a solid team. Now there’s Mark Prior,
Sammy Sosa and Derek Lee to wash away the sins of Browne, Ellsworth
and Keith Moreland. And after last year’s turnaround, nearly making
it to the World Series, they carry (and this is a big anomaly)
expectations.

Among others, Sports Illustrated selected the Cubs to win the
Series. Take a moment to let that sink in. It may be a considered
first, but for those dealing in the curse business–being on the SI
cover has a bit of a stigma associated with it as well. It won’t be
easy, bad mojo everywhere.

Listen to “A Dying Cubs Fan’s Last Request” before the season
heats up. Behind the whimsically morbid irony is a certain
gratification with Chicago’s lack of success. All of their fans
truly understand the self-deprecating humor of root-root-rooting
for the Cubbies. It’s like being stuck in a cross between a Woody
Allen/Ben Stiller movie with Cardinals fans laughing it up in the
audience. But everyone enjoys the act.

So, Cubs fans, ask yourself this–do you really want this
success baseball’s prognosticators are lying upon your team? How
will you deal with it? What would happen to the annual reassurance,
‘Maybe next year?’

If this year is next year, then next year is gone–no more
maybe. All of the things you have built the love of your team upon
will be lost–no more loveable losers.

Do you really want that ring? Ask Frodo; it can be rough.

But for now, Goodman sings, “To the land of the free, the home
of the brave, and the doormat of the National League.”