Perpetually Unfinished
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
 
Okay. This is the point where I cross my fingers and hope that I manage to do the right things to placate the Baseball Gods. Tomorrow could be a Very Good Day. Or it could be a Very Bad Day.

There is very little that would depress me more than a Marlins-Red Sox World Series at this point. With all of the passion I've got in my heart, I've been pulling for the Yankees and the Cubs all of October so far. In 24 hours, they may both have clinched. Or... or... I don't want to think about the alternatives.

I don't think I could really enjoy the World Series, even if the Yankees are in it, if the Cubs lose tomorrow. The Cubs have to win. Everyone's watching the Cubs, it's pulled this city together, and they have a date with destiny. (You know they do. You can feel it too.) If that gets blown and the Florida fucking Marlins win... it would be so, so sad. The Yankees creaming the Marlins couldn't make up for it.

And the Red Sox. Cannot. Win. At this point, it's more about them not winning than the Yankees not losing. If it's the Cubs and Red Sox in the World Series, yes it'll be that much more reason to root for the Cubs, but I'll be spending the Series freaking out every time the Red Sox score a run. You have to understand that while the Cubs haven't won in 95 years, them winning the World Series would just be extra fun and special. But the Red Sox? If they win, there are serious karmic consequences. If they win the World Series, the Yankees will never win again. The Yankees' 26 world championships and 38 pennants will be history, and it will be the Yankees doomed to 85 years of suffering. You can't tell me this is illogical, because in my heart of hearts, I believe it. And so if the Cubs and Red Sox play eachother, while it may turn out alright, it just might be too stressful to be that enjoyable.

But maybe, just maybe, everything will turn out alright. Maybe, somehow, we will find ourselves with a Yankees-Cubs World Series. It would be beautiful. No matter what happened, I couldn't be upset with the outcome. I can't deny that the Cubs winning the Series would be the most fun result. These fans are crazy and excited and wonderful and appreciative the way that New York fans aren't quite. And more than that, the whole city is part of it. It wasn't like this with the Yankees, because I was never a New Yorker. But I've never felt more a Chicagoan than this past month. I love it. And if the Cubs don't end up winning, who better than the Yankees? They may have won their share, but they're my guys. I've watched them for years, I know their strengths and weaknesses, their at-bat music, their kids' names. While it may not be the optimal end to the baseball season, I could hardly be depressed about the Yankees winning again.

So. I cross all my fingers and toes, whisper "Please please please" into the sky, and beg of cruel fate to let me have my way.

I've wrapped myself up in baseball, let it take up my time and lift me away from the weighty, serious things that fill my mind. Let me have this escape for just a little while longer...
 
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Nature attains perfection, but man never does. There is a perfect ant, a perfect bee, but man is perpetually unfinished. He is both an unfinished animal and an unfinished man. It is this incurable unfinishedness which sets man apart from other living things. For, in the attempt to finish himself, man becomes a creator. Moreover, the incurable unfinishedness keeps man perpetually immature, perpetually capable of learning and growing.
--Eric Hoffer





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