Curse of Cubs, M.B.Kaley

The Curse of the Cubs
By Mary Baader Kaley

The curse of a goat?
Not likely. I know the real story.

A lifetime ago, when the Orphans morphed to Cubs long before Wrigley field was dreamt,
a ballplayer met a mysterious woman. In her presence he felt like the most fortunate man alive,
though he did not know anything of her family or where she lived.

Her hair was long and red. Her deep green eyes made it impossible for him to look away.
She spoke with an Irish brogue, and her voice was melody and harmony in one.
And best of all, she loved this ballplayer with his imperfections, his fickle moods.
She kissed a charm and gave it to him to wear during his games at the West Site Grounds.

He wore this tiny charm, a chained baby-blue stone, each and every game. When he had a chance,
he'd look for her in the stands and smile, wink, or wave. She loved his rugged allure,
his hopeful grin.

And his team did well. Back-to-back World Series came their way. Amazing times indeed,
1907 - 1908. And tragic.

You see, women flocked to the famous team. The ballplayer received so much attention,
especially from a dame with dark eyes and sleek black hair. Sophistication effused in her walk;
he didn't know what hit him.

His mysterious redhead knew before any news of the affair had reached her;
at the next game he failed to look her way.

So enraged, she clawed at her neck and looked up at the sky. She invoked a hundred-year
Gaelic curse on the ballplayer and his team, “…Imeacht gan teacht ort!”
In that moment, no one could blame her.

The charm, of course, was broken and lost.

So goes the curse of the Cubs according to my great-great-aunt.
Go ahead, run a goat across the field, re-use dirty socks, kiss your bat before you swing!

No, what works is what has always worked -- wearing one’s true love.