Reflections on Cub Fandom

So, it's Friday night and I'm baking Chocolate Chip cookies for Band Boosters. They are fundraising for a trip to FL to play at the Outback Bowl and I couldn't say no even though I hate baking. It's messy, labor intensive and the baked goods last about 5 minutes on a good day in this place before they're devoured.

Last night, I watched a bit of the Cubs game. Why I put myself through such self abuse, I really don't know. I'm a long time Cubs fan. The first time I sat through a game and made a conscious effort to pay attention, I was about 12. Hermann Franks was manager. Jack "Hey Hey" Brickhouse was announcer. Oddly enough, the first baseball game I ever attended was at Comiskey: The Sox vs Someone or other. I was 6 and couldn't tell Home Plate from a Home Run. I was also bored .... to.... tears and asked question upon question throughout the whole game. If I wasn't about 6 years old, I'm sure the guy and his son sitting in front of us, would have made me a permanent part of the infield. I remember a grand slam during that game which didn't faze me an iota. I was so ready to go home. So, after that game, I left thinking baseball was well, BORING and had no interest in it until puberty when I noticed that the men looked pretty darn good in those tight pants. Yes, embarrassing to say, I started watching baseball because I had a crush on the Cubs second baseman and no it wasn't Ryno at the time. I started watching every chance I got and then the unthinkable happened! The Cubs traded my second baseman to, of all teams, the White Sox. My dad came home laughed at me and said, who is your team now? I said, GO CUBBIES!! I was hooked as a Cub fan. If adolescent hormones couldn't break that bond, nothing could. Here I am 20 some years later, still going through that agony.

I am no fair weather fan. When I was watching, Bobby Bonds was playing first base. Some guy named Junior Kennedy was at Short and some handlebar mustached dude with about a 10. ERA, named Dick Tidrow, may have been their best pitcher. They had no pitching. They had no fielding and they had no fans. My mother took us on Tuesdays, Ladies Day. We paid about 5 bucks to sit in the grandstand and usually that 5 bucks bought us our own section. There were a few people in the bleachers and a few in the box seats behind Home Plate. The camera men were so skilled at finding pockets of people that you would think Wrigley was jammed with people. There was no one. We moved up to the $$ seats (15 dollars) and no one said a word.

It was pretty much par for the course that the Cubs were going to lose. We celebrated every victory and if they lost, well it was the Cubs. It was what we as fans came to expect. It was comfortable like an old shoe, an old shoe with holes in it maybe but an old shoe nonetheless. Our world series consisted of fighting the Mets to stay out of the basement position. .333 win average for the year was par for the course. .500 was UNTHINKABLE. We dreamed about being in contention. We never expected it would ever happen. I related to my Cubs as I went through teen years. I guess they reminded me of me, struggling along, the underdog, lots of angst, a loser. Then there was 1984 and my Cubs were never the same again. All of the sudden, Cubs fans came out of closets, basements, ceilings and Comiskey field. I watched them clinch the Division against the Pittsburg Pirates and it was the most exciting part of my Senior Year. I was revved. This was going to be THE YEAR! IT had been ages. I listed to the story about the goat and the jinx and the gypsy curse. I looked forward to the playoffs. CLeared the family TV so I could watch. Who would have thunk the Gypsy curse would have been Steve Garvey? The Cubs were clobbered. I was heart broken. Then there was 1989. It would be different. They were going to do it this time!! They were clobbered. I was heartbroken again. I lost track of my Cubs for a time, a long time. Tickets that were oh so plentiful in the early 80's were hard to come by. I didn't really have time to watch the games but kept an ear to the news to see how they were doing. Then there was 2003. I decided to risk it. I watched the playoffs. The Cubs were leading 3-1. 3-1!! Odds were on our side. We were going to WIN THAT SERIES and this was going to be OUR YEAR! FINALLY! But as soon as I started thinking that, I caught myself. These are the Cubs we're talking about and memories of 84 and 89 ran through my brain. I saw Moses Alou go for that ball. I saw the Shortstop in that game baubble something routine. I saw my old Cubs right there. The team I knew and loved once again playing in such a way that my sons Little League team may have beaten them. And Bartman, poor Bartman was the new goat so I guess now we can say we let a Goat into Wrigley after all. And I was heartbroken again.

So, here it is 2007. The Cubs won their Division and failed to show up to the playoffs since they are now 0-2. Can they pull it off and win 3 straight at Wrigley? Odds are no and I don't even dare hope. There's a part of me that wishes that it will all go back to the way it was in the 70's and 80's. My team was a loser but I could count on that. Victories were surprises and losses were expected. It was safe. It's often said that a person who is abused everyday is psychologically better off than a person who is abused some days. Why? because the person who is abused everyday, knows what to expect and when to expect it. Am I saying being a Cubs fan these days is like being an abused child? In a way, yes! Battered and beaten, we eat a ton of crow. Since 1984, my Cubs aren't my Cubs anymore. But I'll watch this weekend while I practice saying "Wait until next year!"