October 23rd, 2016
Dear Todd,
I would write about something re: our family or the cray-cray of parenting, but it feels wrong to not address the historical moment of last night and it's blocking my opportunity for other thoughts. So...
Let me start with saying, "I get it. You played baseball. You collected the cards. You know the stats. You love the game. You get to go to Chicago and hopefully witness the Cubs win the World Series." But here's my story...
The Win last night (and yes "win" is capitalized because I understand that it's that major that it alters the rules of grammar) was nothing short of incredible. Obviously for baseball fans, it's a big deal. But for those who are not even big baseball fans, and there are a lot of us, it's about the experience.
Growing up, we would pretend to be different players during PE Softball. The Penguin, Sutcliffe, Ryno, Leon Durham, etc. It was 1984, I was in 5th grade and knew nothing about baseball, other than the "Cubs are Awesome." Instead of Corey Haim and Tom Cruise, (well, maybe in addition too) my friends had posters of the players. I can only assume that this feeling, vibe, desire, was passed down from the parents---Cubs fans that were probably newborns (if alive at all) the last time the cubs won a Championship. And they perhaps, fans from their parents---a long line of "believing."
For us, Opening Day at Wrigley Field was our 8th Grade Ditch Day. Kids knew this before they ever got to Middle School. Opening Day was the day that parents all over Evanston, wrote notes saying that their child was "sick" and the teachers knew they were full of shit. But they didn't seem to care---they probably went to the game too. The kids all ran to the closest El station and changed at Howard to the Red Line and hopped off at Addison, grabbed a soft pretzle or a hot dog and sat way up in the "nose bleed seats" just to be a part of Wrigley.
I think the city got used to accepting that they weren't gonna win. And if they did, "Yay!" But, it didn't matter either way---it was always a good time. And it was the love of the team, the field, the legend and the city, that kept fans coming back. Winning was always awesome, but their record was not a detterent for true fans. Even with the constant heartache of getting so close, and then falling apart, fans came back every year declaring "THIS IS THE YEAR." There was always hope.
As we got older, we would sit and share a beer or 3, with friends and total strangers who were "high-fiving" buddies by the end of the game. It was a giant gathering of people all hoping for the same thing. That kind of energy was/is palpable and inspiring. I think that's the piece that struck me most last night. As tears of joy, and bittersweet tears for those "die hard" fans who didn't live long enough to see it happen, streamed down the faces of thousands and thousands of people who had all been wishing for that very outcome for years...and years. It felt so much bigger than just 3 outs and 9 innings.
Last night the Good Guys won. 4 more wins would be awesome, but the hope that will fill the stadiums and bars and living rooms from coast to coast in the games to come, for me, is what it's all about.
****Oh, and as I write this...our 9 yr old is doing the "grapevine" in front of me, singing a song about starving and wanting pancakes and our dog is eating a foreign object that I hope will not obstruct his bowel. See...it's all about HOPE.
Dear Todd,
I would write about something re: our family or the cray-cray of parenting, but it feels wrong to not address the historical moment of last night and it's blocking my opportunity for other thoughts. So...
Let me start with saying, "I get it. You played baseball. You collected the cards. You know the stats. You love the game. You get to go to Chicago and hopefully witness the Cubs win the World Series." But here's my story...
The Win last night (and yes "win" is capitalized because I understand that it's that major that it alters the rules of grammar) was nothing short of incredible. Obviously for baseball fans, it's a big deal. But for those who are not even big baseball fans, and there are a lot of us, it's about the experience.
Growing up, we would pretend to be different players during PE Softball. The Penguin, Sutcliffe, Ryno, Leon Durham, etc. It was 1984, I was in 5th grade and knew nothing about baseball, other than the "Cubs are Awesome." Instead of Corey Haim and Tom Cruise, (well, maybe in addition too) my friends had posters of the players. I can only assume that this feeling, vibe, desire, was passed down from the parents---Cubs fans that were probably newborns (if alive at all) the last time the cubs won a Championship. And they perhaps, fans from their parents---a long line of "believing."
For us, Opening Day at Wrigley Field was our 8th Grade Ditch Day. Kids knew this before they ever got to Middle School. Opening Day was the day that parents all over Evanston, wrote notes saying that their child was "sick" and the teachers knew they were full of shit. But they didn't seem to care---they probably went to the game too. The kids all ran to the closest El station and changed at Howard to the Red Line and hopped off at Addison, grabbed a soft pretzle or a hot dog and sat way up in the "nose bleed seats" just to be a part of Wrigley.
I think the city got used to accepting that they weren't gonna win. And if they did, "Yay!" But, it didn't matter either way---it was always a good time. And it was the love of the team, the field, the legend and the city, that kept fans coming back. Winning was always awesome, but their record was not a detterent for true fans. Even with the constant heartache of getting so close, and then falling apart, fans came back every year declaring "THIS IS THE YEAR." There was always hope.
As we got older, we would sit and share a beer or 3, with friends and total strangers who were "high-fiving" buddies by the end of the game. It was a giant gathering of people all hoping for the same thing. That kind of energy was/is palpable and inspiring. I think that's the piece that struck me most last night. As tears of joy, and bittersweet tears for those "die hard" fans who didn't live long enough to see it happen, streamed down the faces of thousands and thousands of people who had all been wishing for that very outcome for years...and years. It felt so much bigger than just 3 outs and 9 innings.
Last night the Good Guys won. 4 more wins would be awesome, but the hope that will fill the stadiums and bars and living rooms from coast to coast in the games to come, for me, is what it's all about.
****Oh, and as I write this...our 9 yr old is doing the "grapevine" in front of me, singing a song about starving and wanting pancakes and our dog is eating a foreign object that I hope will not obstruct his bowel. See...it's all about HOPE.
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