I have recently stated that I have very little heart left to break when it comes to my Chicago Cubs.
Nearly half of it was stolen before I was even a teenager; actually it sort of rotted away over the excruciating days of August/September, 1969. Instead of the agony of losing a one game playoff, this exercise in suffering came one dropped fly, one gopher ball, one whiff, one loss at a time.
Project to the distant future: 1984. It was a sure thing baby. Magical. I wept like a sad baby listening to Jack Brickhouse and Harry Caray carouse when they beat Pittsburgh to go to the playoffs. I was in my mid-twenties and had never witnessed a major sports championship. The Bulls and Hawks had their own tragedies, the Bears were awful, but the Cubs were headed to a World Series.
Frankly, they were screwed--because of no lights they lost home field advantage. They showed in the first two games at Wrigley they were the best team. But then a ground ball through first baseman Leon Durham's legs loudly demonstrated they were not, at least in San Diego. A fistful of heart followed the ball to obscurity.
1989 Oh well. 1998 fun. until it wasn't. 2003. Goodbye heart.
Only a shadowy sliver remains. In 2008, I went to the second game. It didn't matter if I had anything left to emotionally invest because by the second inning the air was out of the stadium on the way to a thrashing.
So, here we are. Javier Baez hit a shot off that mope Lackey and I turned to Mary and said, "I'm back."
In past days, as more and more people have declared their joy, I have worn a different look.
"Are you mad, Dad?" my son had asked Suessically.
"No, just being serious, Son, I had replied"
But really, I was deep down afraid to commit. Afraid to wear it. Afraid to swear to it. Afraid to bear it.
Schwarber swung his Lil' Babe Ruth swing and followed the majestic flight of the ball with his Lil' Babe Ruth admiration and welcomed me back.
My first game in 1963 was a shutout at the hands of the St. Louis Cardinals, effectively informing me of my place in the world. I didn't know where the bottom was, but it was definitely beneath the top.
But now the top is a little closer, the Cardinals dispatched, and I can feel the feeling of what it might feel like to feel again. To win or lose. I only hope my nine year old son who has all of his heart on the line can handle it.
Go Cubs Go.
