14 in 16

"But it’s crime-ridden and smells like urine."  Amanda was considering applying to Columbia University and I explained what New York was like.  Born in the Second City, the Big Apple has never been a favorite.  The words too fancy.  The people too abrupt.  She knew I was kidding, but no 100_ _ zip code received a Malin college application.    

It's that time of year again.  Leaves to rake.  Pumpkins to carve.  A new team to root for in the last four to seven games before the national pastime goes into hibernation for the year.  Typically, the calculation is a little more complicated.  The National League preference starts the equation, and then you add in ex-Cubs, subtract players you don’t like and multiply by the team with the most exciting center fielder.  Or, you just go with any team that has goofs like Hunter Pence (funniest video ever here). 

This not quite 14 in 15 year calculus is substantially easier.  Go Royals. 

Ernie left us and they stitched his number onto all the uniforms, and painted it onto the grass behind home plate.  Joe signed on, the kids came up and they gave us a heck of a ride.  The future is bright, but it always is if you play the game – baseball, life, and everything in between - right.  With purpose.  With joy.  With grace.  Like Ernie.      

It's long been suggested being a Cubs fan is an exercise - an exercise transcending generations - in futility.  But perhaps it is worse.  Perhaps being a Cubs fan is a sickness.  There are ample White Sox and Cardinal fans who would agree.  And there’s new research to suggest such, and even account for how a 107 year slump isn’t as bad as some people make it out to be.  Staying true to an almost winning team may not just be noble, or cute, or evidence of proper character ... the things we Cubs fans tell ourselves.

It may be an addiction.

Guess what?  The mercenaries who run casinos already have the grift figured out.  They know that slot players who almost win keep playing.  They keep playing more than people who actually win, and they keep playing more than people who clearly lose.  Those two cherries which show up, and then the non-cherry?  You were soooo close, so you keep playing.  The game is programmed that way and it plays on a human behavior that has utility in other realms. 

All the skill tasks we undertake – waiting on a curveball, looking busy when the boss meaders by, avoiding excrement on New York sidewalks – trick us into thinking we get better at every task we stick with, even when they are not skill-based.  So when we get close to winning at a casino, we think that if we just keep at it, we’ll win.  It’s delusional, but the dopamine hit of an almost win can be stronger than an actual win, and we can’t help ourselves.  Kind of like beating the Pirates.  Cherries.  Then the Cardinals in the NLDS.  Cherries.  Then the ... oh, nevermind.  Have I told you how New York smells?  

If it is a sickness, I know the cure.  A sick day.  At 1060 West Addison. 

See you there, next year.