Don't hate us because we're beautiful.

The years since the Grizzlies last hoisted a World Series trophy are soon to be numbered in triple digits. We all know that. Before our beloved Grizz can compete in the Fall Classic this year, their pennant drought will reach 63. We're aware of that too. In fact, that long, excruciating, glacial wait for October bliss is what makes us who we are. It's why we don the purple and pink every day of our lives and flock to The Pad to soak up the sun when we should be working or rather looking for work.

This wait is our thing and it's what makes us who we are. And while we hate it, we accept it as a part of our destiny, because we know without a shadow of a doubt, that someday soon that wait will be over. And we can celebrate like no fanbase has ever partied in the history of sport. We will destroy police cars, knock over telephone and light poles, smack the shit out of Sox fans young and old and urinate literally everywhere. It is written in our Grizzly Fan Handbook that all of this behavior and much worse will occur for 40 days and 40 nights following the end of our long insufferable drought.

Fans of other teams are aware of this promise of unbridled mayhem and according to a Sports Illustrated column by someone named Joe Posnaski they hate us for it. I'm not sure that I believe that people really hate the Grizzly fans but I've been called some not nice names by fans of other teams when I've shown up at rival ballparks with my entire body dipped in hot pink latex to cheer on my Grizz. I've had beer poured on me, punches thrown at me and once, in Cincinnati, a police dog tried to chew my pee pee off in the parking lot outside Great American Ballpark. That would have been a disaster if I weren't wearing my Bleed Grizzly Pink Jockstrap with steel protective cup. Instead it was kind of funny and wierdly erotic.

Come to think of it, I think maybe the fans of our rivals do hate us and our Grizzlies and as I type this a few decent reasons for their animosity are leaping to mind. Let's hash them out together, shall we?

1. Our colors.

Now I know that most people don't consider purple and pink to be a very masculine color combo. And that a swarm of 20,000+ screaming, bleating, half-naked Grizzly lovers invading an opposing stadium might cause some alarm for people in cities not as progressive as our fair burgh of Chicago. If other fanbases unfamiliar with the celebration of all lifestyle choices that we enjoy here, they might get a little uneasy about so many of us pinking up their stadiums on game day.

2. Our capacity for alcohol consumption.

I don't know about you, but when I watch baseball games in person I like to get my ever-loving drank on. And heavy. I usually carry a flask duck taped to my right but cheek filled with very dirty martinis. Either that or a colostomy bag filled with cabernet sauvignon or a thermos full of our famous Grizzly Pink Margaritas! Man, just thinking about it makes my mouth water and my liver twitch with excitement. But the fact that we can drink our opponents under the table in this manner might be a bit intimidating to opposing fans who not only have to watch their beloved nine get pantsed on the field by our Grizz, but their women saddling up next to the guy with the tasty pink margaritas while they slump helplessly in their seats as victims of the dreaded whiskey dick.

3. Organized Cheering.

Now when we get drunk, we get loud and we get loud we get nasty. We've long been known for our cheerleaders in skimpy pink outfits parading along the top of the dugouts at The Pad. And while exposing ourselves to them in the late innings of blowout losses seemed to be an acceptable way for us to blow off steam in the old days, the security guards seemed to frown on the all-out masturbation that would ensue during particularly percolating victories. But as the wins piled up and the cheerleaders got hotter and thicker, the team kind of let go of its hangups about fans constantly jerking off in the stands while being flashed by the talent on top of the dugouts. But again, in places where that type of thing isn't generally done in mixed company and with children present it can be more than a bit shocking. Hence the number of fights and ejections of Grizzly fans whenever that now-famous chant goes out from our faithful fans.

"Let's go Grizzlies!" (fap fap fapfapfap) "Let's go Grizzlies!" (fap fap fapfapfap)

4. The Time Honored Pre-Grizzly Game Tradition of Pouring a Hot Bowl of Diahrea Over One's Genitals.

Seriously, lighten up people. It's 2008 for cryin' out loud!

So there you have it. Four good reasons why we're hated everywhere we tread in this, the finest season in the history of Grizzly baseball. But we don't care. We are who we are and we're proud of it. We're going to win it all and there's nothing any of you can do about. And that, dear readers, is a beautiful thing.