As a Cub fan since I was eight-years old, meaning for 32 years, I've seen my share of bad teams, had many moments of heartache, and have a definite feel for the team's misfortunes—of which there have been many.
Which is why, on the one hand, a magical season like this has been has been extra special—much in the way the '84, '89, and '03 regular seasons were.
But any true Cub fan will know that while each passing game with them maintaining their lead in the division and battling for the best record in the majors is great, there is always that lingering apprehension.
We're just too familiar with the blunders of the past, too scared of the bad karma the baseball gods seem to have over us and the team.
I, to this day, do not blame Steve Bartman—but honestly, as I've discussed with friends and just as diehard Cub fans as I am, we all knew at that moment, that it was the beginning of the end.
Sure, the Cubs lead the majors in run differential and have a seemingly perfectly balanced lineup.
A few big boppers in the middle, as well as the spray hitters and small ballers who set the table.
But it's days like yesterday, along with the day before, that baffle and infuriate me.
Hits galore, but a total of five runs for two games?
Even as good as our pitching has been, a 2.5 run-per-game average won't be getting anyone to the hallowed grounds of the World Series.
And it's not just those two games.
Despite the wide run-differential, there seems to be games, every so often, where the offense collectively shuts down, patience is lost, and no plan seems to be had when approaching an at bat.
I kept shouting at the television after each swing at a third-strike slider in the dirt, "If the pitch starts out at your knees, it is not going to be a strike!"
Yet Soriano, Lee, and Ramirez didn't seem to get my bit of advice.
Sure, I know, it's only a couple games, and they actually did split the series with a talented team that is in their own playoff chase.
Call me hyperparanoid at times about the Cubs, even amidst a phenomenal regular season.
But as many of you can attest to—I'm sure—a lifetime of watching the Cubs kind of makes us all hyperparanoid at times.
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