Although I don’t necessarily feel that the fans’ attitude affected those three games, it certainly didn’t help matters any. The players, and the organization, know how badly we want to win, and that pressure can’t help but to be put on those shoulders. It was a wonderful season (up until October), and I absolutely love playoff baseball. I would love to be in the position we were in this year, and when that happens again I hope I can take a step back and remember what I’m saying now…and just enjoy the ride.

Sorry dude, but all my baseball buddies are following their teams…thats why we have the Hot Stove. Anyone who follows baseball is taking notice to what goes on for their team and other teams well before the spring…its part of being a fan. I disagree, I think it is not part of the so-called problem at all, I do think it is what has helped convince management to make the kind of moves to keep the Cubs competative. A strong healthy fan base is essential to any sports team. People are welcome to enter baseball hibernation – with no judgement from me. But, I would ask that you allow the rest of us to allow it to preoccupy our time and thoughts if we so choose, without judgement.

Did I ban the right to follow the cubs ad nauseum? Only suggesting, not decreeing…Dude. Do what you want. Do what you need to do, I wouldn’t want to hinder any platform you have to ‘convince management.’ (I can assure you that Hendry does not take his cue from his loyal following— you and me and the fans, especially in light of the past five years leading up to the sale of the Tribune company.)

You have obviously mistaken the intention of my post what with your knee jerk response about fan bases and loyalty, i.e. part of being a fan.

Go crazy my friend. I hope that between now and opening day you shop prospects in your head, rearrange the lineup every day based on who is available in the FAM, throw a dinner party for the winter meetings, type thousands of posts on hundreds of threads and listen to ‘Someday We’ll Go All the Way’ until your ears begin to resemble Harry’s.

My emotional journey since the end of Game 3 appears to have taken me down this very road. For the first week or so, I needed to come here to BCB just to feel normal. Obsessing about the Cubs had become such a key part of my life that I just wasn’t ready to let go. And continuing to rehash all the nitty-gritty details of the team for that first week – even while still feeling the intense disappointment and shame of the Cubs horrible demise – seemed strangely therapeutic.

But in the past few days, I’ve developed a strange coldness toward the Cubs. Suddenly, I don’t want to pore over lineup permutations or wonder what the hell to do with Kosuke Fukudome. I just want to let it go for a while. Some have compared the downfall of the 2008 Cubs to a cheating wife or girlfriend. And that kinda makes sense. At first, I was outraged. Then I tried to reclaim her. Now I’m distant and, to some extent, disinterested.

Don’t get me wrong – I’ll take her back. I know I will. I still think about the team often, and even though I’ve said that watching the playoffs doesn’t bother me, it does. I can’t help watching a team like the Rays succeed and think, “Hey, they won 97 games – just like the Cubs. Why can’t that be Aramis Ramirez hitting postseason home runs instead of Evan Longoria? Why can’t that be Ryan Dempster cutting down opposing hitters instead of Scott Kazmir? Imagine how happy we’d be.”

So I can really empathize with the point you’re making here, jesus figeroa. And I would urge anyone out there who may be feeling the same way, and who might be afraid to admit it, to let the details go for a while. Give yourself a little more time to process your grief. Because that’s what this is: grief. We had something special, and we lost it. But we’ll have it again…someday.

I guess the toughest part of it is that we all thought we finally had a seat at the big table. There’s nothing worse than putting in all the work in practice and being told you can’t play in the big game. That’s how it felt. I’ll get over it, but it stings.

is absolutely an element of success or failure. Just look back on the comments of the players throughout the year. Many times they credited the energy of the Wrigley crowd with carrying them across the finish line of many a remarkable win. Is it so unrealistic, then, to suggest the reverse may also be true?

I hesitate to mention the most infamous example of this, but one cannot deny that five years ago, the palpable aura of doom settled over Wrigley like a dark shadow after that infamous non-catch. I think this directly led to Gonzalez booting the sure DP ball. Every player on that field now knew the gravity of that moment, and none more than he. The sheer agony of waiting, waiting, for that ball to roll to him, the thoughts that must have raced through his mind, one after the other, distracted him from the most vital task at hand: fielding the ball cleanly.

I am not a psychologist, nor do I play one on TV. I am, however, a firm believer in the spiritual energy of crowds, be they at a ball game, a rave, or a church service. Positive energy breeds positivity exponentially, and negative energy likewise gnaws away at the soul, sometimes with startling speed. Fear, panic, and impatience stand diametrically opposed to confidence, serenity, and patience. They are palpable, they are real, and until Cubs fans embrace the latter, and throw off the shackles of the former, change will not come…at least not easily.