Why Not Invoke Thy Holy Goat?

Verily!  Every baseball season I, Jeffery Lung, walk through the valley of the shadow of death… also known as Wrigley Field.

I have been punched in the back of the head.  I have been called a f^g.  I have been kicked in the legs while relieving myself in the men’s room in between innings.

I have been told my mother will rot in hell.  I have had beer thrown on me.  I have been spit on.

So it is certainly no surprise to me that a bunch of Wrigleyville yahoos placed a severed goat head atop the infamously scary Harry Caray statue on the corner of Sheffield and Addison yesterday.

The curse of the billy goat — still haunting the not-so-friendly-if-you-wear-Cardinal-red confines — lives on, dear readers; and apparently, people still take it seriously.  Very seriously.

They take it so seriously that they are willing to act like bigger a-holes than they are already perceived to be.  

But such is life as a “lovable loser”, I suppose.

Impressed was I last year, before the National League Division Series, when the Cubs went for a more subtle approach to ending their poor luck: praying to God.  After the Greek Orthodox Reverend Father spread holy water throughout the clubhouse, Ryan Dempster responded by quickly walking seven batters; and the Cubs went on to lose three straight lackluster games to the Los Angeles (perhaps Holy) Dodgers.

Guess God don’t like no posers, ya’ll.

I was just thinking, Cub fans: perhaps ye should combine thy wasted efforts into one successful go-for-all.  Call on Bishop Tom Burns and his iconic regimental mascot (a goat no less) to bless thy dump of a field in that oh-so-vigilante neighborhood and ask him to pray for your forgiveness — for all thy slander-slinging, grudge-grovelling and curse-coveting. 

Couldn’t hurt, right?

Well… nah… I just realized, when your fan base is more known for this…

…than winning baseball games, you really don’t have a prayer, do you?

Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeffy