# スポーツの都市伝説を愛でよう！【ヤギに呪われた球団】

- Show: ゆる民俗学ラジオ
- Published: 2026-10-11
- Canonical: https://podc.club/en/episode/1669005447_6a66454af10d.html
- Audio: https://api.robotstart.jp/api/for-media/v1/articles/36a5048b/permanent/with-advertise/podcast/4c1bb89d672b7603a7dd95061dd1fa6b.mp3
- Source: Edited from a machine transcript of the first 30 minutes of the episode. Not an official summary.

This episode of Yuru Minzokugaku Radio (ゆる民俗学ラジオ) surveys the sports curses and urban legends that haunted teams in Japan and the United States for decades, from the 71-year Billy Goat Curse that plagued the Chicago Cubs to the 86-year Curse of the Bambino that dogged the Boston Red Sox. The hosts also examine the strange fate of a Colonel Sanders statue thrown into a Osaka river, a World Cup-predicting octopus, and the folklore mechanics that make sports the perfect breeding ground for curses.

## What this episode answers

### How did the Billy Goat Curse, which tormented the Chicago Cubs for 71 years, begin?

In 1945, local bar owner Billy Sianis was ejected from Wrigley Field with his goat Murphy because the owner said the goat smelled; an enraged Sianis cursed the Cubs to never win the World Series so long as the goat was barred from the stadium, and the curse held until 2016.

### Where did the Colonel Sanders statue ultimately end up?

After being turned down by multiple institutions including the Koshien History Museum, the statue was ultimately taken in by Japan KFC Holdings; a doll-offering ceremony (ningyo-osame) was held at Sumiyoshi Taisha, and the statue is now kept in a location not open to the public.

### What was the Curse of the Bambino that lasted 86 years for the Boston Red Sox, and how did fans try to break it?

The curse stemmed from Babe Ruth—nicknamed 'the Bambino'—being traded from the Red Sox to the Yankees, after which the Red Sox fell into a long decline; fans attempted bizarre remedies including placing a Red Sox cap on the summit of Mount Everest, dropping a piano Ruth had owned into a pond near his farm, and a musician performing an exorcism at a concert, but the curse lasted from 1918 to 2004—86 years.

### What is the 'dome run' urban legend surrounding Tokyo Dome?

The legend holds that only balls hit by Yomiuri Giants batters travel unusually far and clear the fence because stadium staff deliberately manipulate the air conditioning; credibility grew when a former employee of the Metrodome—the model for Tokyo Dome—stated that air conditioning manipulation did occur there, though the park factor index for Tokyo Dome actually shows it produces fewer home runs than average.

### How accurate were Paul the Octopus's predictions at the World Cup?

Paul correctly predicted 4 of 6 matches at Euro 2008 and went a perfect 8 for 8 at the 2010 World Cup, including the final; however, after he predicted Argentina's quarter-final defeat, Argentine supporters threatened to eat him, and then-manager Diego Maradona tweeted that he was glad the 'fortune-telling octopus' was dead and blamed it for the loss, turning the story into a global incident.

## Article

## Introduction: Yoshuku and the Hanshin Tigers

Around 2022, a folkloric concept called *yoshuku* (予祝)—a ritual pre-celebration—spread through Japanese baseball social media. Yoshuku is a form of sympathetic magic in which you symbolically enact a desired outcome in advance to draw it into reality, much like a rain-calling ceremony. An episode involving a Hanshin Tigers manager who reportedly had his players perform a premature胴上げ (championship toss) before they had actually won the pennant became the hook for this broader exploration of sports curses and urban legends.

## The Colonel Sanders Statue: An Ongoing Saga

Everyone in Japan knows that a Colonel Sanders statue was thrown into the Dotonbori River during the 1985 championship celebrations. Less known is what almost happened in 1992, when the Tigers were again in contention: the *kuidaore ningyo* (道頓堀の食い倒れ人形), Osaka's famous mechanical street drummer, was nearly targeted next. The media had decided the dummy bore a passing resemblance to star player Kameyama, and the drumming doll's owners weren't taking any chances—they equipped it with a life preserver and snorkel and hung a sign around its neck reading, in Osaka dialect, *"Wate oyogemahen nen"* ("I can't swim"). The Tigers didn't win that year, so the doll stayed dry.

The recovered Colonel Sanders statue was restored and displayed at Sumiyoshi Taisha at various points, but by 2023 it had deteriorated badly—cracked and structurally compromised. The Dotonbori KFC store that had originally housed it was already closed. Japan KFC Holdings approached several institutions, including the Koshien History Museum, about taking it in, but all declined. The Chicago Cubs, interestingly, were the sole organization anywhere to volunteer—a connection forged through the shared experience of curses described below. In the end, Japan KFC Holdings took custody of the statue itself, held a *ningyo-osame* ceremony at Sumiyoshi Taisha to ritually retire it, and the Colonel now resides somewhere the public cannot visit.

## The Billy Goat Curse: 71 Years, 1945–2016

At the 1945 World Series, Billy Sianis, who ran a bar near Wrigley Field in Chicago, arrived at the ballpark with his goat, Murphy. Sianis had brought goats to games on roughly four previous occasions without incident, but this time the Cubs' owner had him removed, citing the goat's smell. Sianis stormed out, reportedly declaring that the Cubs would never win the World Series as long as Murphy was barred from Wrigley Field. The Cubs lost the series. Shortly afterward, Sianis sent the owner a telegram that read simply: *"Who stinks now?"*

The curse outlived Sianis himself and ran for 71 years. Cubs fans mounted increasingly creative attempts to break it: donating goats to the poor, raising a goat they named "Wrigley," and more. None of it worked until 2016. The Cubs' long solidarity with the cursed—and their admiration for anyone who understood what a decades-long hex felt like—is precisely why they were the only group to offer a home to the Colonel Sanders statue.

## The Curse of the Bambino, Dome Runs, and Jum-pire

The Boston Red Sox suffered their own generational hex: the Curse of the Bambino. "Bambino" was the nickname for Babe Ruth, whom the Red Sox sold to the New York Yankees. The Yankees promptly became a dynasty; the Red Sox did not win a World Series from 1918 to 2004—86 years. Fans' attempts to break the spell ranged from the poignant to the surreal: a Red Sox cap placed on the summit of Everest, a piano that Ruth had owned dropped into a pond near his old farm, a concert exorcism staged by a musician. The curse finally lifted in 2004.

Back in Japan, the *dome run* (ドームラン) legend claims that Tokyo Dome's air conditioning is secretly manipulated to carry Giants batters' fly balls over the fence. The story gained traction when a former employee of the Metrodome in Minneapolis—the stadium that inspired Tokyo Dome's design—stated on record that air conditioning had indeed been adjusted there during play. At the same time, Tokyo Dome's park factor index actually ranks it as a *low* home-run environment, leaving the truth ambiguous. A related concept, *Jum-pire* (ジャンパイア, a portmanteau of "Giants" and "Umpire"), describes the belief that umpires systematically call games in Yomiuri's favor—a suspicion the hosts note runs parallel to broader international debates about officiating bias.

## The Super Bowl Halftime Show and Paul the Octopus

An American urban legend holds that the Super Bowl halftime show exists specifically to prevent water mains from bursting: without the break, all viewers would rush to the bathroom at once at the final whistle, overwhelming the pipes. The city of Miami actually asked residents to stagger their toilet use during the 2007 halftime, which gave the legend legs—though Wikipedia explicitly notes there is no causal link.

The episode closes with Paul the Octopus, perhaps the most statistically remarkable sports prophet on record. Paul correctly picked 4 of 6 match outcomes at Euro 2008, then went a perfect 8 for 8 at the 2010 World Cup, including the final. His method: staff would place food in two boxes, each marked with a competing nation's flag, and whichever Paul ate from first—or ate fastest—was deemed his pick. His prediction that Argentina would lose their 2010 quarter-final triggered death threats from Argentine supporters. Manager Diego Maradona took to Twitter to announce he was glad the fortune-telling octopus was dead and that Paul was personally responsible for Argentina's elimination. The global uproar that followed was, the hosts observe, its own kind of folklore in real time.

## Takeaways

- Sports curses are a folk answer to the unbearable question of why a beloved team cannot win, and what unites them across cultures is the fans themselves taking creative, often absurd action to break the hex.
- American baseball alone carries multiple multi-decade curses—the Cubs' Billy Goat Curse at 71 years and the Red Sox's Curse of the Bambino at 86 years—showing how deeply sports mythology can entrench itself across generations.
- Paul the Octopus's perfect 2010 World Cup record is statistically extraordinary, yet the sharply divided reactions it provoked—devotion on one side, fury on the other—embody the very mechanism by which urban legends are born and spread.