We Cubs fans have been remiss. We thought that we could just break up with you over the Internet, and never see you again. Sure, we had lingering guilt in the pit of our stomachs, remembering all the times we were unfair, all the times we weren’t there for you, but we pushed you out of our minds. Now, the inevitable happened – we ran into you again.
It got back to us, the complaining about us you did to our mutual friend, The New York Times. I feel like you knew it would…the wounds that we left you with wouldn’t heal. We don’t blame you…we can be such dicks.
“Two years ago, I played, and I was good. I go to Chicago, not good. I’ve been good my whole career. So, obviously, it was something with Chicago, not me.”
How true…how true. We were just lucky that you picked us. Team after team were lining up to give you $30 million. It was like the Bachelor…thirty teams lined up, just hoping to get your tender rose. Sure, after they were all dismissed, those sluts claimed they had no intention of paying you all that money over three years. When we all know they would have sucked your cock just for some eye contact.
“Just no communication. I never hit more than 22 homers in my career, and all of a sudden I get to Chicago and they expect me to hit 30. It doesn’t make sense. History tells you I’m not going to hit that many. Just a lot of things that try to make me a player I’m not.”
We made the classic mistake…we tried to change you. After being alone at the final rose ceremony, with you asking for nothing except $30 million without any expectations, we tried to change the perfection that is you. We believed you when you said your torn ACL in 2007 was the ump’s fault for being a dumb cracker, and your manager’s fault for not letting you kill him. That you went after that announcer in 2008 because he looked at you through the television funny. That you got traded from the Indians because that whitey manager thought the Beatles were better than the Temptations. So what if we were your seventh partner in ten years…the world is cruel to butterflies such as yourself.
On a personal note, I was in the stands that game against the Twins when you gently flipped the ball into the stands behind you. Just because there were only two outs and it allowed a rally to continue and cost the Cubs the game, the fans unloaded all of their misplaced aggression onto you. “No, no,” I cried, “He’s doing the best he can.” But they were monsters…just because you were making $7,000 for that inning, they thought you should know how many outs there were? I’ve never been so ashamed to be a Cubs fan in my life.
What happened then was the same old story…we hurt you, so you lashed out…our control freak dad Lou Pinella thought you were bad for us and tried to keep you away…you pretended you didn’t care so that the hurt didn’t permeate your soul.
We don’t know…maybe the breakup was for the best. All we ever wanted was for you to be happy. We hope some day you can find it in your heart to forgive us, so that we can be friends.