Just a baseball game? Not for Cubs fans
Call me a fair-weather fan or a long-suffering cynic, but I didn't start truly believing in the Chicago Cubs this season until the 10th inning of Game 7 of the World Series.
To be exact, in the top half of that inning when they scored two runs to take an 8-6 lead against the Cleveland Indians. I didn't cheer or clap or yell. I could only shake my head in disbelief. Or, in this case, in utter belief.
That was the precise moment when I wrote this post to my social media readers, followers and long-believing Cubs fans: “Fate? Luck? Skill? Talent? Destiny? Blessed? 'Bout time? Whatever it's called, the Cubs have it this year... this series... this game... this moment.”
Finally, this ever-skeptical agnostic saw the heavenly light of the 2016 season.
I felt like I was somehow saved. Like I repented and the baseball gods blessed me for doing so. As if all those hellish years of being a Cubs fan — more than half a century for me — were somehow absolved by the holy trinity of Banks, Santo and Hartnett.
At that magical moment, I knew this Cubs team would somehow, someway pull out a victory in Cleveland.
They would do so by either hitting a towering shot over the centerfield fence, or back-to-back doubles, or a manufactured run from a bunt single, a stolen base, a sacrifice fly and a suicide squeeze. Whatever it took, I just knew they would do it.
It took me only the entire baseball season and nearly the entire postseason to believe. Finally, though, I felt like all my earlier pilgrimages to Wrigley Field, and all my trips to my living room or bedroom TV, were worth it.
Yes, once again I was likely the last Cubs fan in the country to finally hop aboard the “I believe” bandwagon. Until that top of the 10th inning moment, I expected my lovable losers to throw us fans under the bus of heartbreaking defeat. Again.
Before Game 7 started, a thunderstorm caused power outages and cable TV problems across the Chicago area, including at my home. I instinctively thought Mother Nature was trying to stop me from watching the Cubs catch lightning in a bottle of Budweiser.
Then, when a heavy downpour forced a game delay in Cleveland, I again railed in anger at the baseball gods. I wondered just how cursed these two hapless franchises must be that neither one could reign as champion before rain delayed the inevitable.
Cubs fans everywhere were a nervous wreck, which is exactly how Cubs first baseman Anthony Rizzo explained his feelings in the dugout to veteran catcher David Ross. Neither player looked nervous once they were on the field, which we learned was the only way to calm nerves in Game 7 of the World Series.
The rest of us were forced to jam unhealthy amounts of snacks or booze into our mouths, following the lead of Cubs and Indians players who couldn't get enough gum, tobacco or sunflower seeds into their cheek.
Late in the game, after the Indians tied it up, even making fun of Joe Buck's play-by-play skills lost its taste for many Cubs fans. Things were getting too serious for such nervous chatter.
During a commercial break before the 10th inning, I thought to myself, regardless of who wins, this was a perfect game for Major League Baseball. A grand slam for our national pastime. A game-ending triple play for casual fans who wandered away from the game or who wondered what the hubbub was all about.
I also began feeling sincerely sorry for the Indians and, more endearingly, for their long-suffering fans. But my feeling was fleeting after the game ended and I watched Cubs fans rejoice as if they would all be soon sporting World Series rings.
The game's last out and on-field celebration will be unforgettable for all of us. For that lingering moment, Cubs fans from every generation joined for a group hug that continues today. It includes Cubs fans whose lives ran out of innings long ago. We felt their spirits celebrate with us, if only in our memories.
I can't imagine any of us experiencing another such feeling of baseball bliss for as long as we live. When we woke on Thursday morning (for those of us who went to sleep), everything just seemed better in our lives, though absolutely nothing else had changed.
We shared a shameless giddiness. A sense of epic relief. An unexplainable exaltation.
This feeling may be even sweeter for those lifelong fans who were alive the last time the Cubs played in a World Series in 1945. And for those younger fans who've watched every game, every pitch, every homer, every win and every loss during this historic season. You know who you are.
Regardless, every Cubs fan can now switch from our seasonal shrug of “Wait till next year” to our new battle cry of “Just
During this off-season, we can brag and dream while chanting my two favorite quotes from Cubs players. Each one came immediately after the thrill of victory.
“It's a kid's game,” said shortstop Addison Russell, who's just 22.
“The boys believed,” said Anthony Rizzo, a young boy in a man's body.
The boys believed, indeed.
And, thanks to a kid's game, the young boy in this man once again believes … in miracles.
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