Holy Cow!

Ah Ba makes a chillingly similar motion to Sweet Lou Piniella's call to the 'pen while buying massive quantities of flowers at Chiang Mai's night market.

Photo courtesy of Julie Swartz, Cubs soulmate and one of the most dedicated fans I know.

My family is Buddhist, although it's less of a religion for us than a way of life -- we're no bead-slingers, we're dharma bums. For me, especially, I love the all-embracing open nature of Buddhism. From Buddha's philosophy, you learn compassion and grace, and you apply it in the best way you can to your daily life. You learn to expand your mind and gain an innate understanding of why things happen, how they happen and what makes you and others tick. Best of all, your life is in your hands -- you decide how you want to get to nirvana and how fulfilling life can be for you. Of course, Buddha lived more than 2,000 years ago -- very different times. So you adapt his teachings so they work for current situations, making the best of what you have to create the best for the future. You can be Christian, Catholic, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, Tree-Hugger, Cubs Fan, Yankees Fan, Sox Fan, Britney Spears Fan, Paris Hilton Fan, and still welcome to learn, no strings attached. We're so chill we can cool cases of beer. God, Allah, Shiva, George Steinbrenner, George Bush, George Clooney -- everyone can all exist without rejection (spiritually, of course).

So, why should the Cubs be denied of a World Series after 100 years of futility? Last weekend, my family was in rural Chiang Mai, in a little town called Ngau where our master has a monastery, Wat Chong Kam. We were there to attend an important ceremony in which his master was remembered on his birthday, and to celebrate the sangha -- Buddhist monks -- for devoting their lives to spreading compassion and the meditation of living complete and balanced existences. While we were in attendance as Ah Ba (also the abbott appointed by the Siamese king to govern the entire Northern Thailand region) radiated powerful metta through a two-hour chanting ceremony, the Cubs clinched the National League Central Division. There's really no reason to make a connection between 10,000 miles and Ted Lilly pitching us through seven strong innings and winning his career-high 16th start, and I'm not a proponent of numerology, but check this out: The last time we won two division titles back to back was 1908, which was, yep, the last time we went all the way and took it home.

Of course, this all means more when your team has been saddled with several curses -- a billy goat one, a black cat one, a Bartman one, and more. We've got more excess baggage than Imelda Marcos on holiday. But what we have is faith, and what we need is a little bit of divine intervention, in addition to Soriano not swinging at the first pitch, Lee not hitting into double plays, Marmol's slider nastier than a Pamela Anderson sex video.

Sports is not 100 percent ability and teamwork and million-dollar contracts, particularly in a traditional, old-fashioned enterprise like baseball. When you've four guys on the field making the difference between a painted-corner cement-mixer curveball strike or a split-second head-first dive to first base with two out and a runner breaking from third, you better bet your cleats that you've got your stars aligned in the right places at the right time for you. Some days, some guys can't get their arms up to keep their pitches down no matter what and the bats have holes that voodoo termites have eaten their way through. This is especially true of the Cubs who get swept by the Rays (my favorite American League team, by the way) one series then gobble up the Sox the next. And getting routed by the Cardinals 6-12 on Carlos Zambrano's first start after his historic no-hitter -- he lasted just 2.5 innings -- before winning the division the next day. That's just another day in the life of a Cubs fan, where each inning is the heart attack equivalent of eating a box of Krispy Kremes.

You never really know what to expect, but everyone is expecting us to win the World Series this year. When we won the division, we knew we would, it was only a matter of time. It wasn't like last year when it came down to the wire, neck-to-neck with the Brewers and the Cardinals. Although Wrigleyville went wild (wilder than usual, that is), we didn't send each other congratulatory texts or emails or IMs. We played it careful, but more importantly, we played it smart because we know the real business at hand is the playoffs. As Maria, the smartest Cubs fan I know (apologies to all who believe they are the one), would say, "I'm not believing until we get to the Series." Last year, we were swept off the face of the earth by the fantastic Diamondbacks in the National League Division Series. I don't think the Dodgers or Phillies or Mets or Brewers will do that to us this year. And I'd be very ecstatic with a World Series berth, although I know when we get that far, I'd want it all. But the truth is, the Angels are a powerful team and so are the Rays. And if the Sox make it, too, why... it'd be our turn and much as there will be much bloodshed on the streets of Chicago, similar to when we used to be a livestock slaughterhouse town, it will be one of the greatest sporting moments in America's most humble big city.

I'm not sure if I can be there and I'm trying to come to terms with not being on my usual perch in my favorite Wrigleyville tavern with my favorite Cubs friends with my favorite 312 in hand while it all unfolds. But nobody said being love was easy, and I know karma comes back in a way you don't plan for it to, so I'm leaving this in the good hands of whoever keeps score in the dharma books.

And yes, I'm happy to share all the good merits I've hopefully racked up by being a good person with my team. It's my dana parami to a bunch of guys who played their hearts out for the fans all year. Thanks for a great 2008, let's make it one to remember in the history books.