Goatriders of the Apocalypse

The Return of the Shhh

The Sloth reminded me of something in his most recent must-read for GROTA. See, I've forgotten a lot about the 2003 season, mostly by design. It was just too painful to remember. But, as time has moved on from that painful October evening when everything collapsed like a lung with a bullet wound, I've been able to remember bits and pieces of why the 2003 season was the most enjoyable of my life.

And it all goes back to "shhh."

I can remember talking to friends in late April, after watching the Cubs team surprise us again and again with big wins and dominant runs. I can remember being excited, but not surprised. The 2003 team was good, even if they weren't receiving the props they deserved. But, any time I lamented the lack of coverage they were receiving from the media, my friends would tell me just one thing:

Shhh.

The Cubs were coming. No one saw it. It was like a left hook from the southern hemisphere; unseen, unexpected, but devestating. Shhh. We didn't tell. Didn't let them in on the worst kept secret in baseball. They were so used to the Lovable Losers, so used to the no-win Cubbies, that they never realized we had the most dominating pitching in the game.

Then, the Cubs fell apart.

But it's a new year. The old wounds have had time to heal some more. The media is again looking toward St. Louis. Baseball fans hold great doubt that the team can win, because the injuries have already hit often and regular.

Shhh. Don't tell them what we already know. Don't tell them that the Cubs are coming. Let them find out the hard way. Again.

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