As much as I tell myself that I don't believe in curses, the Cubs make me wonder.
After taking a series in Los Angeles, and just when it was looking like the Cubs' fast start might continue and be bolstered eventually by the returns of Mark Prior and Kerry Wood, Derrek Lee goes down with two broken bones in his wrist. Ouch. That sucks. The team leader and best player, not to mention a guy who just signed a large contract extension and a class act, is suddenly gone. And somehow, none of it is surprising.
As a White Sox fan, I can honestly say that I find this sad. Yeah, I'm supposed to despise all things Cubs and find great satisfaction in any Cubs misfortune, but I hate to see this happen. I mean, I don't hate the Cubs. (Can I say that as a White Sox fan?) Sure, I enjoy immensely laughing at the Cubs and their fans. In fact, few activities give me such joy. But I don't hate the Cubs. Actually, I come from a large family and, for some strange region, baseball allegiances are split, and the first thing I thought when hearing about Lee was how much that sucks for the delusional members of my family who bear the misfortune of rooting for the Cubbies. I know how much the fortunes of the White Sox can affect the mood of my entire summer, and to think that Lee's injury may just go a long way to bringing down the summer of a whole lot of peeps, well, I don't want that. Lee's injury is simply sad.
But not shocking.
The baseball gods are a cruel, twisted lot. Or maybe this is all karma. Surely, scalping tickets to your own fans must have some repurcussions, right?
