Dear Mr. Hendry,

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from Cub Nation. After 51 years of loyal cheering and support, it's time for me to move on. I'm tired of walking the ledge. As in accordance with the bylaws of such Nation, last night I doused my Cub ball cap, jersey and sweatshirt with gasoline and set it aflame. As I stood there and watched the smoke go up into the cool October night, I felt a sudden release of anxiety as if the weight of the world was no longer mine to carry. 51 years of pain and agony suddenly gone. Like I was set free. Smoldering blue and red, the flames and the '69 collapse. The '77 June Swoon, up 8 1/2 games only to go 20 and 40 the rest of the way. The Heartbreak of '84 as Leon watched a routine grounder wicket through his legs. The 2001 collapse. My god the 2003 debacle. Can you say "Bartman" and another ball through the wicket. I die in agony every year, like drowning in 3 inches of water.

But, I really thought 2008 was going to be the year. An even 100 since we last won. Sweet Lou. Hell, the city was shutting off alcohol after the 7th inning in preparation before the first pitch was even thrown. The date for the parade was set. But, last night the demons came back. Was I dreaming? This can only happen in the "X Files"! Where's Mulder and Scully for heavens sake? Father Merrin, vanquish the demons, please! I'll eat the green pea soup! But no, as we butcher ground ball after ground ball like a meat cutter behind the counter at La Chicita. No pitching and no hitting. The horror, the horror.

In closing, I wish you and all of the other members well. As I walk away, I turn and look back. Yes, I see the ball tee'd up as usual. I want so desperately to run up and try to kick it again, but after 100 years I know too well that's Lucy masquerading in that Cubbie bear outfit. "Okay, maybe, just one more time". No, I can't do it anymore. So I move on, hell I'm free, free as a bird now.

Sincerely,
"Freebird" Jim