Pain... gone.
Nausea... gone.
Numbness... gone.
Pit in stomach... gone.
Depths of despair... gone.
Voices... well, no more than usual.
Maybe it's time to get back in the water, get back up on the horse, go back to the ballpark. I've stayed away from anything having to do with the Cubs, and baseball for that matter, since Train Wreck - The Sequel back in October. Sorry Nike, just couldn't do it:
Off season trade updates? No.
A League of Her Own? Nope.
Goat Riders of the Apocolypse? Zip.
Spring Training box scores? Nada.
World Baseball Classic? Not interested.
Long discussions about what they need to do this year to finally make it over the top? Uhn ugh.
I did check the schedule to see when the Cubs were in San Diego. Oh, and I did pick up the 2009 Beckett's magazine at Hastings in Great Falls, but
I didn't buy it. Couldn't do it.
Expectations were high last year and I think with it being 100 years since, well, you know, we allowed ourselves to get caught up in the possibility that finally our time had come. At first I wanted to find someone to blame. Lou for questionable managing during the postseason. Dempster with seven walks. Big Z. Four errors by DLee, DeRosa, Theriot and Ramirez in Game 2, three in the same inning. Soriano going 1 for 14. Fukudome. Ninety-seven win best record in the NL and second best in all of baseball. Leading since early July and almost wire-to-wire. All of the categories in which they finished first. I could list them all, but it won't change the cold, brutal truth that the Cubs found yet another way to implode. Doesn't matter, really. I don't blame them. Ultimately, I blame myself. I allowed myself to believe, again.
So on the eve of another season and as far as expectations go, I have none. Don't get me wrong, I still love baseball, still love the miserable Cubbies. I'm just entering the season with absolutely no expectations.
But maybe...