The five stages of grief for a Cubs fan

Springtime -- a time when a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of love and futility for the Chicago Cubs’ current season.

Being a Cubs fan entails going through the five stages of grief every season; and much like the children of parents who expect nothing less than perfection, they always seem to find a way to disappoint you.

Stage One: Denial

This typically occurs just before the All-Star Break when the club’s record is hovering close to .500.  

You tell yourself, “There’s plenty of time to turn this season around. We’re not the worst in our division and there’s a good chance we might be able to get the Wild Card slot. We’ll finally bring the Commissioner’s Trophy to Wrigley.”

Stage Two: Anger

The Cubs occasionally get their act together following the All-Star Break; but once the calendar turns to September, they become a team of gibbering idiots to whom baseball is a foreign concept.

You, the irate Cubs fan, attempt to smuggle several goats into Wrigley in order to placate the angry spirit of Billy Sianis’ goat. After you post bail and begin completing your community service, you enter the next stage of grieving: bargaining.

Stage Three: Bargaining

It’s quite clear at this point that the Cubs have a snowball’s chance in hell of making the playoffs. Having your team mathematically eliminated from playoff contention will not deter you.

“That’s what arcane rituals with forces beyond the comprehension of mortal man are for,” you say to yourself.

You’ll make a stop at your local occult bookstore and begin searching for a way to summon a Lovecraftian horror into your rumpus room.

The ceremony begins and you chant, “Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.”

Suddenly an eldritch figure appears next to your commemorative Cubs beer stains. Your mind screams in horror at something man was not meant to see.

“Greetings, O Dread Cthulhu, I have awoken you to ask for a small favor, can you arrange it for the Cubs to win the World Series?” you ask in a quavering voice.

“That,” says in a voice that causes babies scream in the night, “is beyond even my power. Besides, I’m a Yankees fan. Bother me no more lest I swallow your soul.”

Realizing that not even a creature beyond comprehension can help your team, you enter the penultimate stage.

Stage Four: Depression

Once again the Cubs have let you down. What was a promising season spiraled into one of shame and regret. The Cubs are a metaphor for your life. Their Sisyphean struggle to win another World Series matches your own ineffective attempts at sorting out your life.

Like all Cubs fans, you’re probably a heavy drinker. It’s the only way to get through the long stretches of humiliation.

You start drinking even more and taking in harder stuff. Maybe you start doing coke, chopping it up on the jewel case of Tonight’s The Night while it plays in the background.

Your friends and family start to worry about your mental health and stage an intervention. It’s when you leave the mental health facility that you enter the final stage.

Stage Five: Acceptance

The scars of the past season have healed and you look hopefully toward the coming season.

The Cubs may have been frustrated last year, but there’s a change in coaches and new talented players who are sure to change things for the better. You smile at the nurses as they wheel you out.

“There’s always next year,” you say.

“Of course, Mr. Caray,” says the nurse with a patronizing smile. “Nurse Ratched, double his Thorazine drip.”

—ajcrowle@indiana.edu