OK. We spent $300 million in the off-season. We went out and got the best manager we could get our paws on. Some would say it was more of a business gesture than something done for love of the game. After all, the team will be up for sale at the end of the 2007 season, no matter how it may ultimately end.
Some would say that… but I am not one of them.
It was ugly at first. We were baptized in fire. A young family, still new to each other… dysfunctional, often battling ourselves just as viciously as our foes. Losses racked up. Disappointment loomed in the doorway. Punches were thrown. People were exiled. 8 1/2 games out of first, and dropping like a rock. It didn’t look good.
But somewhere along the way, bloodied, aching, we reached an understanding. Our leader did what he was hired to do. He breathed fire. That fire infused the team with his passion for the game. We pulled it all together for a spectacular June & July run, charging the gates of our upstart, cinderella arch-enemies. We fought like hell.
I watched it all. And I sensed a will to win.
And so, in the thick of the fight, I took flight. In the August heat, I soared all the way to my beloved Wrigleyville, on steel wings of hope, to share in the dream. I watched the wind rustle through the ivy. I felt the strength of the gathered faithful. I yelled until my throat was raw, living and dying on every pitch, cheering them to victory. And they gave that victory to me, like a gift.
And here at home, so far away from the Friendly Confines, I tried to never publicly waver in my support, or my faith. I wore the gear. I lived for the highlights. I kept everyone posted, even people who didn’t care. I asked the bartenders to put the games on, over the jeers of the Giants & A’s fans. I took the hits, and the scoffs, and I let people call me crazy. All I returned was a wry smile. “We’ll see…” I said.
It never got easy, and it came pretty close to right down to the razor-wire, a maddening back-and-forth duel with the Brewers, losing game after game that we should have won. Our hero pulled up lame, and was suddenly gone. At times, it looked like it might not happen. But even when we were stumbling, we still never seemed to lose the spirit… the drive… the will. And thankfully, the Brewers stumbled with us.
In moments of anguish & frustration, I ocassionally spit some venom. I may have banged my head against a few bars as a lead evaporated in the late innings, maybe I even bemoaned our “curse” once or twice. But those were private moments. They were always my boys through it all, and where it counted, I never let any of the doubts show.
Still, with so many tears shed, so much blood spilled, so many disappointments, so much hurt, I allowed myself to hope for the best… but I secretly prepared for the worst.
So, on this night, I shout to the sky, as loudly & as ecstatically as Harry himself,
“Cubs win!!! Cubs win!!!”
You are the 2007 National League Central Division champions, boys. And whatever happens from here, nothing can take that away from you. Celebrate. Then rest, and prepare yourselves for the battles to come. They will not be easy. But know this.
We believe.
Yep, this one’s for the Cubs fans. Hey, Gramma! The Cubs took the pennant!
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