The Immortal Gazette: The Curse of the Bambino

The fire crackled in the grand hall of The Immortal Gazette, casting long, flickering shadows across the stone walls. The night had settled in comfortably, the scent of enchanted tea and aged parchment mingling in the air. Alice lounged in her usual spot, feet kicked up on the table, while Loki absentmindedly flipped a golden coin between his fingers.

Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, was pacing.

Muttering.

Clearly plotting.

Alice arched a brow. “Alright, dear imp, spill it. What’s got your knickers in a twist this time?”

Loki smirked. “And why does it look like you’re about to confess to yet another magical disaster?”

Rumplestiltskin stopped mid-step and scowled. “Oh, you want to talk about disasters, Trickster?”

Loki feigned innocence. “I never cause disasters. I merely… enhance existing situations.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Sure, sure, but do tell us, Rumple. What now?”

Rumplestiltskin let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples. “You know about the Curse of the Bambino, yes?”

Loki frowned. “The what of the who now?”

Alice sat up straighter, intrigued. “Ohhh, the baseball curse? Yes, I know all about it.”

Rumplestiltskin grumbled. “Well, I may have accidentally made it worse.”

Loki’s smirk widened. “This sounds promising.”

Alice leaned in. “Go on.”

The Curse of the Bambino: A Legendary Sports Hex

Rumplestiltskin huffed. “So, back in 1919, the Boston Red Sox made the colossal mistake of selling their star player—Babe Ruth—to the New York Yankees.”

Alice nodded. “Yes, and with that one foolish decision, the Red Sox doomed themselves to an 86-year championship drought.”

Loki raised a brow. “Wait, you’re telling me an entire baseball team was cursed for nearly a century… because they sold one man?”

Rumplestiltskin smirked. “Not just any man. Babe Ruth was a legend. A powerhouse. The Yankees took him in, and—boom—they became the most dominant team in baseball history.”

Alice chuckled. “Meanwhile, the Red Sox? Couldn’t win a World Series for decades.”

Loki stroked his chin. “Fascinating. So, how did you—” he gestured at Rumple “—make it worse?”

Rumplestiltskin winced. “Ah. Well.” He cleared his throat. “Somewhere in the 1940s, a desperate Red Sox fan sought out a bit of… magical assistance.”

Alice gasped dramatically. “Don’t tell me you tried to lift the curse?”

Rumplestiltskin looked offended. “I didn’t try, dearie—I succeeded! …Sort of.”

Loki chuckled. “I’m sensing a but.”

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “The spell I used required two things: an object tied to the sport and a sacrificial element to absorb the curse.”

Alice grinned. “And what did you use?”

Rumplestiltskin grumbled. “A baseball… and a goat.”

Loki blinked. “A goat? You used a goat to break a baseball curse?”

Alice snorted. “Oh, please tell me this somehow ties into the Curse of the Billy Goat.”

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Unfortunately, yes.”

How a Baseball Curse Turned into a Goat Problem

Rumplestiltskin paced again. “I figured—wrongly, I admit—that if the goat absorbed the curse, the Red Sox would finally break free of it.”

Loki grinned. “And?”

Rumplestiltskin pinched the bridge of his nose. “And the damned goat wandered off… straight into Wrigley Field.”

Alice howled with laughter. “NO! You mean to tell me you caused the Curse of the Billy Goat?”

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “I didn’t mean to! The thing bolted before I could contain the magic, and next thing I know, the Chicago Cubs are cursed for another 71 years!”

Loki laughed. “So let me get this straight. The Red Sox were cursed for 86 years because of a bad trade, and when you tried to fix it, you accidentally cursed the Cubs because a goat ran into a stadium?”

Alice wiped away tears of laughter. “And let me guess—the Red Sox still didn’t win a championship anytime soon, did they?”

Rumplestiltskin muttered, “Not until 2004.”

Loki grinned. “And the Cubs?”

Alice smirked. “Didn’t win until 2016.”

Loki let out a low whistle. “You really have a talent for prolonging suffering, don’t you?”

Rumplestiltskin scowled. “Oh, shut up.”

Alice leaned back, sighing happily. “Well, at least now I know who truly controls the fate of baseball.”

Loki smirked. “Indeed. Who needs sports analysts when we have Rumple the Baseball Jinx?”

Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth. “You two are unbearable.”

Loki grinned. “No, dear imp. We are entertained.”

And with that, Loki lazily conjured a baseball, spinning it between his fingers, while Alice tried to stifle another laugh.

Rumplestiltskin merely glared, vowing to never interfere in baseball ever again.