Today is many things. It is the day pitchers and catchers officially report to Spring Training. It is also Friday the 13th. While I have done my best to not draw too many conclusions about the possible ramifications of such a coincidence, I'll admit that the thought has festered.
It is my hope that this is the first step of many by the Cubs organization to tell the baseball gods where to stick their curse, but I believe it was probably just a small clerical oversight when planning out the Spring Training schedule. My guess is that Crane Kenney (he who felt it necessary to bless the dugout before the playoffs last year) simply didn't check his calendar closely when the date was first set.
Generally, I'm not a big believer in Friday the 13th, but this day also marks a major anniversary for me. It is the eleventh anniversary of my first purchase of my season ticket package in Aisle 424. You may wonder how I have remembered the exact date of my purchase when I have difficulty remembering what I had for dinner last night (Waffles!), but it is not so much because I remember the date I purchased the tickets, I remember because of what happened the very next day.
On February 14, 1998, Harry Caray collapsed into a coma while dancing with his wife, Dutchie, after a Valentine's Day dinner. He never regained consciousness and died four days later.
So, it stands to reason that I killed Harry. I certainly didn't mean to, and if I had any inkling that was going to be the penalty for fulfilling a personal dream, I certainly wouldn't have done my little I-Got-Cubs-Tickets Jig after getting off the phone with the Cubs' ticket representative.
Eleven years later, the Cubs begin their quest to avoid the 101st year of championship drought at a point in time that has historically bad mojo tied to it. You can see why my optimism might wane a bit.
But instead, I choose to take this as an opportunity to stand up and shove this cosmically tainted day in the faces of the baseball gods and spit at their feet. This is a new time, when I will not fear black cats, bad karma, or shady conspiracy theories. I dare them to do their worst.
Now where did I put that rabbit's foot?
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