Curious Hair wrote:
You have to forgive Steve Bartman but don't you dare welcome him back!
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Some of you reading this are decent people, if not mere non-psychopaths who understand a sports moment that has been repeatedly deemed inconsequential in retrospect. The rest of you are vampires, incapable of empathy and/or incredibly not self-aware. You use Bartman as a tickler for any various perversions rather than feeling for a human being who has been constantly and undeservedly tortured.
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It’s not about forgiving Bartman. It’s not about making it right with a guy who volunteered coaching kids baseball who caught the worst of sports idiot wrath in American history. It’s not about his feelings. Nah, it’s about your own crappy absolution. It’s about him giving you permission to not have that mark on your flawed fan résumé.
He won’t grant you his blessing, and he shouldn’t, and it drives you nuts. Well, deal with it. And let it effing go.
Because obsessing over Bartman is the encapsulation of everything bad about Cubdom, of which — despite being the team being the current darlings of sports — there’s a lot. I’ve been a Cubs fan since I knew how to root for any team, and I learned years ago many of my fellow Cubs fans are annoying, lousy people prone to really bad group-think.
The fan fallout from Game 6 of the 2003 NLCS only crystallized it for me, and most of the fan base’s voluntary marriage with terrible history — a Helsinki syndrome of loving their own captive futility — births terrible traditions like “Go Cubs Go,” heinous celebrity ambassadors and losing their minds during every player slump or playoff game loss.
It's
Stockholm syndrome, you fucking retard.
Why is "Go Cubs Go" a terrible tradition? Because bernstein doesn't like it?
Here's my funny Bartman story. One of my good friends gave me a nice large framed photo of the Bartman incident signed by Alou. The guy who gave it to me happens to be an acquaintance of Bartman's best friend. He asked the guy if he could get Bartman to sign the photo too. The guy said, "I would never even think of asking Steve to do that." After that the conversation went something like this:
My friend: Do you ever go out to lunch with Bartman?
Bartman's buddy: Of course. All the time.
My friend: Does he ever pick up the check and pay with his credit card?
Bartman's buddy: Sometimes.
My friend: Maybe you could grab the receipt with his signature and I could slide that under the glass.
Bartman's buddy:
Me:
