|Lost: Season 102|
The series finale of Lost will be taking up two and a half hours of my time on Sunday and is sure to dominate hours of discussion to follow. In that and in a host of other ways, it’s not unlike a typical Cubs game. As any Lost fan knows, pop culture allusions flow like DHARMA-issued wine through the narrative of the cultiest of cult-TV shows: Alice in Wonderland, Wizard of Oz, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the Bible, and virtually any other story about a motley cast of misfits brought together for a fantastic mission. And if that sounds familiar to you as a Cubs fan, it’s because that pretty much describes every team ever assembled to try to bring a World Series championship to Wrigley Field.
It’s a bizarre little way of life we’ve got going here, one artistically rendered on Lost island with eerie accuracy.
So here are some of the myriad ways that Lost mirrors the island of losing on which we’ve all been stranded (watching in eager anticipation all the while).
On Lost: A plane goes horribly off course and crashes in an unfamiliar land in September of 2004 and again in 2007.
At Wrigley: The Cubs’ World Series plans go horribly off course and ultimately crashes in September of every year for the last century plus. (A handful of times it was in October, but who’s counting? Oh, that’s right, I am.)
On Lost: John Locke, previously crippled, is able to walk after his plane crashes on the island.
At Wrigley: John Grabow, previously competent, walks pretty much everyone he faces now that he’s a Cub.
On Lost: Survivors on the island enter the numbers 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42 into a computer every 108 minutes to prevent the island from imploding.
At Wrigley: Last time I checked my computer, 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42 were the ERAs of 6 of the Cubs’ relievers, hence, the repeated implosions of wins, and no championships since 1(9)08.
On Lost: Sawyer mocks Hurley’s weight with a variety of condescending nicknames, including Deep Dish, IHOP, and JumboTron.
At Wrigley: At one point or another, I’ve wanted all of those things while watching a Cubs game.
On Lost: Jack’s dad, Christian, swears that the Red Sox will never win a World Series. After the crash, they do.
At Wrigley: People swear a lot as the Cubs fail to win a World Series, and the crashes keep on coming.
|Never lose the finger tape, Koyie. Never!|
On Lost: Resident rocker, Charlie Pace, tapes his fingers for a dual purpose: a) to look cool, and b) to foreshadow events on the show.
At Wrigley: Backup catcher, Koyie Hill, tapes his fingers for a dual purpose: a) to help pitchers see his pitch signs, and b) to keep his fingers attached.
On Lost: Fans have a lot of theories about what’s going on, though ultimately the show reveals new surprises to keep the fans guessing.
At Wrigley: Fans have a lot of theories about what’s going on, though ultimately the Cubs lose in new and surprising ways . . . and we keep watching.
On Lost: In a shocking twist, Jack, the leader (though not undisputed) of the survivors, joined the Others to help cure their ailing leader, Ben. Then he shot a few people to escape.
At Wrigley: In a shocking twist, Carlos Zambrano, the leader (though not undisputed) of the starting rotation, joined the bullpen to help cure their ailing ERA. Then he blew a few games and escaped.
On Lost: The survivors and viewers alike are given nightmares by Benjamin Linus because of his malicious talent and his big buggy eyes.
At Wrigley: Ryan Braun.
On Lost: Sun Kwan pretended not to know English to avoid getting in trouble with her husband, Jin.
At Wrigley: Sammy Sosa pretended not to know English to avoid getting in trouble with Congress.
On Lost: Walt was all but written out of the show because the actor who played him, Malcolm David Kelley, aged beyond the speed of his 12-year-old character.
At Wrigley: Starlin Castro was called up to the show because he was playing well beyond his 20-year-old age. Coincidentally, he also could convincingly be cast as a 12-year-old.
On Lost: It’s hard to believe the show is finally coming to an end. . . . But it is.
At Wrigley: It’s hard to believe this tradition of losing will ever end. . . . But we do.