And the winner is ...

... not the Cubs.

Nope, sorry. Ain't gonna happen. At the end of this month, the odometer goes from 108 empty seasons to 109, and there's nothing you can do about it, Cub Nation, no incantation you can repeat or goat you can slay or good luck charm you can clutch (Not even that game-worn Jody Davis jersey!)

You're goin' down. History says so, and so do I.

For which, you can thank me later.

You can thank me, because the last thing in this world you want me doing at this point is hopping on your bandwagon. I will crash it. I will drive it into a tree. I will forget who goes first in a roundabout and collide with the Indianapolis Colts bandwagon, which really doesn't need that at the moment.

And so, instead, I will haul out my cache of probabilities, and whisper sweet doom in your ear.

You say the Cubs have the best record in baseball?

Not a good thing, Cub Nation. Only twice in the last 25 postseasons has a team with the best record in baseball won the World Series, and both times it was the Yankees. The last time a National League team had the best record in baseball and won the World Series, it was the Mets.

Thirty years ago.

And they needed one of the epic chokes of all time by the Red Sox to do it.

Now add those 108 years of futility, and you can see what's going to happen. Every one of those years is about to become a weight on the Cubs' backs. They're a team loaded with young talent and depth at every position, and that is both a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing because young talent secures your future; it's a curse because the weight of those 108 years will be all the more crushing.

Imagine, for instance, what happens if they lose a game or two in Wrigley. Imagine if they fall down in a series, 1-0 or 2-1 or 3-2. Even worse, imagine them going up 3-2, then losing Game 6, then having to gather their wits about them and win a Game 7 with those 108 years weighing them down.

Pressure like that you don't see every day. Or any day, really.

Which is why, at the end of this month, you're going to be singing the same old song, Cub Nation: Wait 'til next year. The Blob guarantees it.

You're welcome.