Disclaimer: This essay is satirical and in no way should be taken seriously




Being a miserable White Sox fan, I have been avoiding all forms of media as the playoffs began. The celebration of the Cubs winning a play in game was way over the top. I do think that the Cubs have a chance to finally end their World Series drought, but they haven’t won it yet. They are not even past the first round, and the champagne celebrating was ridiculous.


Although I have been avoiding the media in all forms, I am sure of one thing: Pundits are probably telling White Sox fans that they should be happy for the Cubs. Bull. Cub fans have been bitter ever since 2005, and they never wish anything good for White Sox fans. Stop it with the BS.


In assessing the White Sox disappointing 2015 season, I could act like Cub fans and look for a scapegoat. There is the empty headed Alexi Ramirez. There is the light hitting Adam LaRoche. There is the dopey Robin Ventura.


You see there are plenty to blame for the White Sox winning 76 games in 2015. And that is the problem. Finding a scapegoat is so hard when so many people have contributed to the losing. But I have a solution. I am going to blame Steve Bartman.


Yes, I know. No one even knows where Steve Bartman is. If he goes to Wrigley to see his favorite team, he must go in disguise. Some Cub fans offered to pay his way to go see the Pirates, but I have not heard that he was dancing in the streets in Pittsburg or anywhere else. For all we know Steve Bartman has moved to Sicily. I would if I were him.


Naturally we all remember the sixth game of the NLCS in October 2003. The Cubs were ahead 3-0 and were five outs from a World Series. The Marlins had a man on second, but the Cubs had their ace Mark Prior on the mound. Everything looked so good.


Then a foul headed toward the seats down the left field line and Bartman had the nerve to try to catch it. Matty or Felipe or Moises Alou or whoever was in left threw a temper tantrum because he thought Bartman kept him from making a catch. Everything changed.


By the end of the inning the Marlins were ahead 8-3. Did Cub fans blame Prior because he started hanging sliders? No. Did they blame “Gonzo” for making an error at short? No. Did they blame the Marlins for hitting line drives all around Wrigley? No. They blamed Steve Bartman.


Bartman apologized in the names of Ron Santo and Ernie Banks. It did him no good because the Cubs lost game seven. Their World Series appearance is still 70 years in the waiting. Bartman remains in hiding unless he got champagne in his eyes in Pittsburg.


So here I am the miserable White Sox fan being forced to watch all the Cub mania. My only solution is to again make a scapegoat out of Steve Bartman. Why? Hell, why not?


How will I make a scapegoat out of the meek Bartman? If I should see him walking down the street, I will choke him. I will choke him until he gags and his face turns blue. I will just plain choke him.


Why? Because that is my way of identifying with Cub fans. So many of them wanted to choke Steve Bartman. The problem was they couldn’t find him. But if I find him, I’ll choke him.


Will I feel better? In the long run, probably not. The Cubs will probably win their first World Series in 107 years and choking poor Steve will not change anything. But in the short run, I will feel better and will relive 2003. If poor Steve has to gag, so be it.


So, Steve, be on the lookout. Cub fans are distracted right now and probably wouldn’t notice you if you stuck your tongue out at them. But I’ll notice you. And since the White Sox had a bad season, I’ll take it out on you. It is the Chicago sports thing to do.