Joe Posnanski has cursed the Cleveland Indians.
From Joe's 10/17/07 takedown of Chief Wahoo:
. . . it’s definitely time to bury Wahoo. This would be a good year to make it happen. The Indians are a game away from the World Series. There is some real joy happening. There is some real excitement. The Indians have a real chance to end the longest citywide sports drought in American sports. There are a lot of good feelings in the Cleveland air. It would be a good time to bury a logo that should never have been born to begin with.
Joe should have known better! He should have known that the disgustingly racist Chief Wahoo draws his staying power from the darkest sanctum of Hell. That place where the most vile and sordid wishes of men are ushered into being while their purest dreams are twisted into an unrecognizable mutant-echo of reality, borne into this world to taunt and torment their authors.
Joe should have known that Chief Wahoo and his unholy minions from below would hear his plea for Cleveland to use its impending ALCS victory and presumptive world championship as the pedestal from which to cast that offensive red-faced visage into oblivion, and would stop at nothing to prevent it from occurring. And that is exactly what has come to pass. When Joe wrote those words on Wednesday, the Indians were invincible. Two games later and one wonders how they ever held off Detroit.
It all seems so obvious now. How fitting that Fausto -- a variation of Faust, he of the unholy bargain with the Old Man himself -- was on the hill last night. After seeing his improvement from 2006, does anyone doubt he had supernatural help? I sure don't, and last night's performance has me convinced that the Devil called in his chit, ordering Carmona to serve up a fat one to J.D. Drew in the first inning. Similarly, Curt Schilling's fine outing was no doubt repayment from the Prince of Darkness for the fine work Schilling has done promoting evil.
Yes, there is a game seven tonight and I suppose it's possible that the Indians will pull it out (update: or not). But I'm doubtful, as I suspect most are. People will chalk up their defeat to choking or tired arms or the veteran savvy of a Red Sox team that has had experience facing long odds, but Occam's Razor suggests the real answer:
A Cleveland expatriate sportswriter living in Kansas City, Missouri had the audacity to taunt Beelzebub, and now he, along with every other Indians fan, is being punished for it.
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