I’m going to root against the Cubs – But that doesn’t mean I will feel good about it.
I’m a sad, sad, shallow man. I’ll be the first to admit it. But after the Cubs advanced in the NLDS, the first thought I had wasn’t “Oh, that’s nice. Maybe they’ll finally get over the hump,” like a NORMAL FUNCTIONING HUMAN BEING would think. No, I got on my bitter sports fan wagon and whipped the horses into a gallop. “Ugh, they can’t win,” repeated itself in my head. I wish I had a better reason, I really do. It’s as simple as it seems: I can’t bear (HAA!) to see the Cubs win the World Series before “my” Orioles do. Yes, they won in 1983, and it was magical (I heard), but being born in 1985, I missed the last Orioles opportunity. In the mean time, the Red Sox ended an 86 year drought. The very next year the White Sox ended their 88 year drought. That left only the Cubs with a drought longer than the average life span of an American, though every passing year brings Cleveland closer to the edge (and I really don’t want to use Cleveland as the barometer of success, sorry City of Cleveland.
It’s petty, I admit it. And I fully well support them breaking their futility streak IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE ORIOLES. But that’s not fair. And I realize it.
There are some secondary reasons to root against them, and they’re just as speculative and borderline irrational as the first. When the Red Sox won the Series in 2004, it was an amazing scene (except for the rioting which took a college student’s life at the hands of police rubber bullets, which is tragic). My parents, who live in Boston, (did I mention I grew up in Boston and for some reason chose the Orioles instead of the Red Sox? Good job, me.) relayed the stories of grown men going out to the cemetary and sharing a bottle of Champagne/Vodka/Everclear with their deceased relative Sox fans in celebration. Boston area graveyards were littered with bottles the following day. Sad in a sense, but just an amazing display of the value of sports. When the Cubs win the World Series, it will be more of the same. We’ve surely all seen the ad for MLB The Show which touches upon the celebration that will happen:
It will be the biggest part Chicago has ever seen, easily outweighing the South Side celebration in 2005. 9 months later, a generation of Jakes and Jons and Jasons will be born, named after the aces of the staff. The collective weight off the shoulders of the city of Chicago will be unthinkable. The city will be completely different, uplifted, optimistic.
And here I am rooting against it. I’m an asshole. Sorry, Chicago.
On top of that, I know plenty of good baseball fans who are Cubs fans. They deserve a World Series more than many other teams’ fans. They have stumbled through 100 loss seasons, while the self-appointed “best fans in baseball” down the road have had success time and again. Being a Cubs fan is torture unknowable to other sports fans. It’s generations of futility, but they stay the course, knowing that one day the W flag will be raised over Wrigley and fly until spring. These are the fans that I want to watch the Series with, as the unthinkable happens.
But as we know, success leads to unintended consequences. In Boston, they named it “The Pink Hat Crowd” for their headwear of choice. The fans who never had any baseball interest who jumped on the wagon and will claim lifelong Cubs fandom, even though they never beared the burden of the hard losses. In addition, the trash talking begins by some of the more fair weather fans. Boston fans, long being humble and friendly, have gotten considerably more annoying since 2004. One could argue that the Red Sox turned into everything they hated by usurping the Yankees as the team-du-jour of the late 2000s. Even in Chicago this has become apparent, as the Blackhawks, the city’s historically underperforming hockey franchise won a Stanley Cup after themselves being in a long drought. From attendances in the 5000s in the mid 2000s with well regarded and knowledgeable fans, they now sell out the 20,000+ seat United Center, and their fans in away arenas are more renowned for starting fights than discussing defensive pairings.
My appeal to Cubs fans is thus: every rose has its thorn. The constant reminders of futility (this article included), the hoping and wishing and imagining what it would be like to win it all, the heartbreak. All of those will be strangely looked back on as “The Simple Times,” when tickets at Wrigley were (somewhat) affordable and (somewhat) easily to get. When everyone who wore the hat knew who Ernie Banks was. When the summer days in Wrigley were about enjoying a beer or three and watching the team that your grandfather watched in the same venue, an incredible and rare opportunity. And one day, it will all be different.
So Cubs fans, enjoy this while it lasts, and don’t let a Cubs loss, no matter how heartbreaking it may be, get you down. Because once you win a World Series, what else is there to baseball? The second will never feel as good as the first, and once the anticipation is gone, what’s the point?
At least that’s what I tell myself as I watch the Orioles falter year in and year out. Whatever helps you sleep at night.
And if you disagre, and want the World Series right away, I wish you good luck. I will be happy to watch the celebration on television. I’ll probably stay up all night watching it and congratulate my die hard Cubs fan friends. I will legitimately be happy for them for winning it all.
My only hope is that it’s in 2017, the year after the Orioles take the World Series for the first time in my life.
In the mean time, I’ll sit, conflicted, and watch. Go Cubs Go.