Remarkable! Amazing! Astonishing! Miraculous! Phenomenal! Incredible! About time! Noooo, I’m not talking about my new haircut. I am talking about the CHICAGO CUBS victory in Game 7 of the World Series.
The curse laid down in 1945 by Billy Goat Tavern owner William Sianis (he was asked to leave Wrigley Field because his pet goat Murphy – who he’d brought to the Field – smelled worse than most goats) is now over. Done. Kaput.
I like to think that I deserve some small margin of credit for the Cubs success. Why? You ask. Okay. What is the current year? 2016. Two – Sixteen. My birthday. And how many games did it take for the Cubs to clobber the Indians? Four of Seven. ’47 – my birth year. And they did it in extra innings (which is where I would like life to take me). Soooo, it was bound to happen. Two sixteen four seven. In extra innings. Yep. So last March I put down $250 in Las Vegas on the Cubs winning the World Series in 7 games. At 883 to 1. Oh wait a minute. . . . I forgot that part. Darn.
Wait’ll next year. . . . .