Admiring The Cubs’ Calmness During Historic Mayhem

Locked in 1-1 tie after splitting in Cleveland, one special Cubs fan, my dad, loves their chances of doing the unthinkable.

Bear with me as I stroll down my baseball memory lane.

In the summer of 2002, shortly after his 70th birthday we sent my dad, a life-long Cubs fan, to Chicago to watch a game at Wrigley Field. Born in Yonkers, NY, the son of Irish immigrants my dad was a stone’s throw away from the epicenter of all that was holy about the great game of baseball. He could take a short train ride to see the Yankees, Brooklyn Dodgers or NY Baseball Giants at a time where rivalries in New York started with your baseball team of choice.

My dad chose d) none of the above.

Instead, he decided to root for the Chicago Cubs, the proverbial underdogs – even in the 1940s. Underdogs in the sense that the Cubs were considered (and still are) the “Second City” to The Big Apple and that sort of condescension never sat well with him. He was also learning all the values of being a Cub Scout, so it all seemed to fit. That summer day in 2002 my dad, along with my mother, got the chance to experience a day game that included a Sammy Sosa home run.

He was in Heaven.

At the hundreds of games I played as a kid, whether it was soccer, baseball, basketball or golf my dad would be there with his Cubs hat on. I remember one trip to the Cooperstown, where we played a game at the famed Doubleday Field, we found ourselves in the Gift Shop. My dad debated buying a new one, but only for a second as listened to me talk about the Mookie Wilson t-shirt I wanted.

He knew Mookie was my guy.

When we were becoming baseball-savvy enough, he didn’t force his fandom on us, he just wouldn’t let us root for the Yankees. My dad quickly became synonymous in our town as the biggest Cubs fan and, unless they were playing the Mets, everyone rooted for him because of his allegiance. In 2003, I rushed home to be with him as the Cubs were poised to polish off the Florida Marlins and afterwards I felt I was as much of the curse as The Billy Goat or Steve Bartman. He, along with every die hard Cubs fan, knew that the curse was REALLY real that night and I fully understood the magnitude. There was no explaining what happened that night other than, in my dad’s words, “that’s not supposed to happen.”

For 35 years in his own professional career my dad fought for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves. As a social worker he tirelessly earned his paycheck week after week, month after month, putting that effort back into the lives of his three children.During election time we’ve been forced to hear the same babbled rhetoric regarding change and making things great again, and he has tirelessly done them both together every day of his life.

So here we are in 2016 and after the Cubs turned a Pennant Clinching double play giving them their first World Series appearance since 1945, I picked up the phone and called my dad. And yes, there was no chance I was going to call until all 27 outs were recorded.

“How do you feel?” I asked him, in reference to the moment, knowing full-well he’s not celebrating until they win four more games.

“I like Maddon,” he said. “He keeps them calm.”

Quite the contrast when you factor in the emotions tied with suffering as long as Cubs fanatics have. Joe Maddon has been a Godsend for the Cubs after he was brought in by GM Theo Epstein at the expense of Rick Renteria this off season. Maddon has navigated the emotional journey brilliantly in that captain of a ship trying to survive a hurricane sort of way. Total, complete, focus on land at a time of chaos.

My dad isn’t content with making a World Series, but he’s relived they are there. He hasn’t felt the decompression and mass exhilaration that has overtaken the town. He was rooting for the split so that, with all of his hope, they could finish the series off at home.

“Three more,” he says.

“Then we all can finally, really celebrate.”