Waiting Is The Hardest Part

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Waiting Is The Hardest Part

. Thursday, December 3, 2009

Over the past 3 seasons, I have been fortunate enough to go to over 70 Cubs games. Living within walking distance of Wrigley allows me the opportunity of seizing a last minute deal on Craigslist or being available when someone has the allusive extra ticket up for grabs. While that is a lot of games for the average Cubs fan, it has never been enough to satiate my needs. Thus, like many other people, I have signed up for the season ticket waitlist. I am now entering my third year on the list, and the results, are not promising:


Now, I know 46,845 isn’t horrible, especially considering it is over 100,000 deep, but I have moved up a dismal 172 spots in my three years. That is an average of 57 spots per year. In other words, I am 990 years away from receiving my tickets. I will repeat. I AM A MILLENIUM AWAY FROM MY TICKETS! So, in honor of my first season ticket game, I will make predictions, a la Conan, for the YEAR 3000 (in the year three-thouusssssaaaaaand).

See the predictions, after the jump.




In the year 3000, the Cubs will lose an epic battle to the robots, as they were unprepared for the robots unique playing style. A picture has been obtained, and we can see that they tricked the Cubbies into a fight while they zoomed around the base path.



IN THE YEAR THREEEE-THOUSAND!


In the year 3000, Ron Santo's head in a jar waits with melancholy patience for the Veterans Committee to vote him into the Hall of Fame.


IN THE YEAR THREE-THOUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSAND!


In the year 3000, Cubs owners finally succumb to the pressure of the times and install individual urinals. As beer is now in cube form, only 2 are needed.


IN THE YEAR THREE-THOUSAND!


In the year 3000, Milton Bradley is denied a contract and he claims that the Cubs and its fans are all ageists because they refuse to let him play, and not because he has the skills of a 1030 year old dead man.


IN THE YEAR THREE-THOUUUUUUSSSSSSSSANDDDDDDDDDD!


In the year 3000, a local tavern owner attempts to bring in his exotic pet for good luck. He is denied entrance. No one learns of the story because the advanced minds of the future know it will have no impact of the play on the field.


IN THE YEAR THREEEEEEE-THOUSSAND!


In the year 3000, Sammy Sosa will walk the earth looking like this:



A scary future indeed!

2 comments:

Jen said...

Steve, I'd offer to let you cut in line but I'm currently at 68224. 68224! That should be a f'ing zip code, not a place in line.

Ginger Russ said...

Hilarious! Glad WAIW is back.