The Juju Rules by Hart Seely

Author:Hart Seely
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

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JUJU RULE 15

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Condemnations

With the exception of the Uppercase Deities—who, as we are constantly reminded, are 100 percent perfect—everybody makes mistakes.

Even the juju gods. Immortality does not imply immunity to imbecility.

I don’t believe the juju gods will deny this. In fact, I considered devoting this entire book to exposing their blunders and mismanagement: the Pine Tar Game of 1983, the Mark McGwire/Sammy Sosa home run chase of 1998, the Yankee franchise between 1983 and 1994, and various scandals involving the Mets. Such a book would turn heads, down here and up there. Did you know the Cubs once traded Lou Brock for Ernie Broglio? I’d love to read the juju god e-mails surrounding that deal. Somebody would go to jail.

So when the juju gods blow a game, the thinking fan here on earth should be ready to tear them a new astral plane.

Okay, I know what you’re thinking: Only a fool would tell off the Fates who control the universe. Anger them, and—bam!—you’re a pillar of salt. Piss off the gods? The last “thinking fans” to do that were probably rooting for Atlantis.

I do not advise anyone to say things about supernatural entities that could get posted in a locker room. Surely, one reason the Phillies have lost more games than any other baseball team is the collective potty mouth of their fan base.

But when you have a case, prosecute it.

Rule 15: The juju gods accept honest criticism.

Once again, keep in mind that we’re not second-guessing Jesus, Allah, Yahweh, Joseph Smith, or even Yoda (if you’re into the Star Wars trilogy). We’re not nitpicking or yelling at the Uppercase Deities who own churches and TV networks. We’re talking about the juju gods, the grunts who fix ballgames. They do not hold the whole world in their hands. They do not carve whole mountain ranges with their fingers. They do not drive fancy red chariots across the sky. They work desk jobs. They drink coffee from the vending machine. Some probably wear Velcro wrist supports. Certainly, these underappreciated deities don’t need to pick up the phone and hear you call them snake-faced cockroaches just because Javier Vazquez ruined eighty-six years of happiness with one pitch. But they are not so uppity, so godlike, that you can’t call them and demand a retraction.

For example, one night long ago, a certain humpbacked line drive fell into left-center field, ceding the 2001 World Series to the Arizona Diamondbacks. As I stood there, watching it on TV, I delivered this message to the juju god hotline:

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