Baseball Season: Time To Get Heartbroken

I asked my boyfriend the other day, when will the baseball season end?
“Oh, Hunny, we still have a long way to go.”
I said to myself quietly. HHWWWHHAAATTTT???!!
D*** it!
You see, don’t get me wrong, people, all the baseball lovers out there. Stop your typing hands to make a snide comment on my blog.
Not just yet.
Maybe later you can & I just don’t care. But hear me out first.
I’ve been to Wrigley field, jumping up and down (sincerely) when the Cubs scored or better yet, made a home run.
I do think that I love them. I’m rooting for them. It’s hard not to. At first I pitied the under-dog label they’ve been having, but then like any other re-born fan, my faith in them grows.
Which is wrong.
So wrong.
I want them to win. I want them to get to the play-off. It’ll be so much fun to see them get to World Series final.
But it’s not happening, because they are the most ill-fated club in history. Especially this year when that hunk Prior got injured *again and again*. They used to sulk together with the also-ill-fated Red Sox fans, but I guess not anymore since the Red Sox counter-jinxed themselves by winning the World Series last year.
And so, for 6 months in a year, all the hopefuls Cubbies are waiting for the big break. And every year they got sweaty palms every time thay watch the game. And their favorite motto is "Maybe next year".
Is it worth it?
A good example is my boyfriend who's a die-hard fan of the Cubs. He's willing to drive the second car, with no air-conditioner, in about 90-100 F summer day just because his other car has radio reception problem & if he can't watch the game, he's got to listen to it.
Talk about au natural sauna.
Or my classmate who would have 'bathroom breaks' during class to sneak in to the computer & see the score, and had parties to celebrate the Cubs getting to play-off a couple of years ago. (which by the way, got defeated by the Marlins).
Or one person (whom I don't know of) who banged on the computer lab window to get my attention to ask for the score.
I know someone who would boo people on the street just because they were wearing Marlin hats.
Gee... do I really want to join the helpless-hopefull mass?
Hm,...
I don't think so.
One of us is more than enough to represent that.
And that won't be me.