"It’s been said that in Chicago there are two seasons, winter and construction. For Cubs fans, there is only one, and it always comes next year" – Rick Talley
Well, it's the next morning, and while there's a thick layer of fog outside, my head is clear enough to remember:
The Cub won the World Series yesterday.
It wasn't a dream, or a fantasy. Last night, after 108 years, the Cubs actually won the World Series, after a game (not to mention the series itself) that probably nearly killed the legion of Cubs fans watching.
Throughout the series, people were sharing stories of the role the Cubs played in their lives, which has had me me thinking about my own. And it's not really that exciting, or harrowing, and I know what I'm feeling probably doesn't even come close to rivaling what other people I know feel right now.
But you know what? I'm gonna share it anyway.
I'm not a sports fan. This is fairly common knowledge to people who know me. I can recognize that the Hawks are good, but can't say I've watched more than a few minutes of a game. My interest in the Bulls started and ended with their 3-peat run, and an impromptu celebration parade in my best friend's front yard. And I hate, HATE football. Unless it's fictional football, with Coach Eric Taylor and Tim Riggins via one of the best shows ever created, Friday Night Lights.
The exception was, and has always been, the Cubs.
I tell people that I was born and raised a Cubs fan. I do not think I am being hyperbolic with that statement.
My dad is one of the biggest Cubs fans I know. He grew up on the north side of Chicago, and is one of those people that definitely bleeds Cubbie blue, through thick and thin. Winning or losing, he loves that team, and always has faith that next year could be the year for them. (Well, Dad -- THIS YEAR was finally the year!).
I remember going to Cubs games at Wrigley with my dad when I was little. It was the glory days of Ryne Sandberg and Mark Grace, Harry Caray announcing. I remember deciding early on that Ryne Sandberg was definitely my Cub (and person who played a sport) ever -- nevermind the fact that I wouldn't actually realize his name was "Ryne" and not "Ry-AN" for too many years. Needless to say, seeing Ryne Sandberg at the World Series game this year was pretty exciting for me. Or, at least, 7 year old me.
Wrigley Field was also where my significant near-sightedness was found out. My dad, in an ongoing (and probably, fairly often, failed) attempt to explain to me what was going on, pointed me to the scoreboard and asked me to read something off of it. I couldn't. I wasn't just being stubborn and difficult -- I just literally couldn't make out the numbers on the scoreboard. I had hidden this fact well in school, where I regularly borrowed my friend's glasses to see things on the chalkboard. The Cubs had me found out, though, and at that game I was busted.
It was these early experiences that I think solidified the Cubbie blue running through my own veins. Even if I didn't understand the game, or it mostly felt boring to me, the fact is those early years at Wrigley with my dad left a permanent mark, even if I didn't, or don't, always seem to show it. The honest truth is this: The sight of the Cubs logo always makes my heart beat just a little faster.
There's something about that red and blue "C" that wormed its way into my heart early on in my life, and won't let go. And there's an energy that surround Wrigley for me that is sort of indescribably. When I go to Wrigley, there's an excitement that flutters behind my breastbone rivaled only by events like concerts I've been highly anticipating. That love of that field transcends whatever players call it home any given year. Wrigley is its own entity, a glorious symbol of all of the hopes and dreams and camaraderie it has housed over the years. It's a special place.
People will call me a fairweather fan -- my dad would probably be one of them -- and maybe they're right. The thing is, despite my ignorance of most things sports-related, the Cubs are always at least on the peripheral for me. After watching the playoffs this year, I can tell you the names of some of the Dodgers, and a LOT of the Indians. But, even in the years when it seems like I'm not paying attention or watching any of the games, I can ALWAYS name a handful of Cubs. Even though I'd be hard pressed to name any other baseball player on any other team. The Cubs are always on my radar, whether it appears that way or not.
I'm not going to claim to be the die-hard fan like so many people I know and love. I get it, I haven't earned my stripes in that regard. Fine. I could watch every single Cubs game from now until forever and still wouldn't be in the exclusive club my brother and I are in together when it comes to the Cubs. I'll probably always still say stupid things and share my commentary about people's looks or attitude (I still stand by the fact that Contreras is fiery, and I like that about him). If that makes me a lesser fan, then so be it.
The thing is...I've watched every single game for the last few weeks. I've been a nervous wreck. I've allowed myself to CARE in a way that I don't usually when it comes to sports. I let that wall between me and a bunch of athletes come down, and man...it was PAINFUL, and EXCITING. I got superstitious, and paranoid, and had so much anxiety during last night's game I thought I'd pass out. The elation I felt when it was all over was incredible. I wanted to hug ALL THE PEOPLE AND THINGS! I could't stop watching the post-game footage. It was amazing, and it made giving up my normal live and TV up for the better part of a month completely worth it.
And if it hadn't turned out the way it did last night? It still would have been worth it. Because the Cubs are worth it. There's a reason that logo stirs the blue running through my veins. Yeah, it's an especially exciting time to be a Cubs fan -- but the thing about being a Cubs fan is that even when it doesn't feel exciting to be one, the loyalty is there. And the belief that they can and will do great things again.
So, GO, CUBS, GO!
Thanks for providing the backdrop to so many moments in my life. And thanks Dad for making sure the Cubs got in my blood early on. Even though you don't think I'm listening, some things manage to worm their way in every now and then ;-).
