Cubs baseball and what it means to me.

Next Saturday morning, I leave for Phoenix to attend my first-ever Cubs spring training (or any spring training, for that matter). I will be there for 3 days and will see, among other things, the Cubs play the Dreaded White Sox, hopefully beating them, unlike yesterday. I am really excited about it and have been researching things to do out there, at the expense of finishing another Paris post yesterday. So this seemed like as good a time as any to share with you some of my thoughts on the Cubs.

First, this is one of the most memorable Cubs games I ever attended. On September 2, 2003, my 34th birthday, the Cubs played the Cardinals at Wrigley Field. I took a day off work (the game was the Tuesday after Labor Day) to attend. The game had gone on for 15 innings (I had to postpone my flight home) and Sammy Sosa hit a walk-off 2-run homer in the bottom of the 15th to end it. I think this happened close to midnight. There was joy in Wrigleyville!

Another memorable Cubs event for me was attending 2 of the playoff games against the Braves during the 2003 Division Series, played on October 3 and October 4, 2003. The first game was a night game pitched by Mark Prior (against Greg Maddux, then with the Braves), which the Cubs won after a few rain delays that made us worry about whether they would get the game in at all. But what I remember most was how Wrigley Field looked, all dressed up in red, white and blue cloth bunting, like a girl attending prom when she thought she would never have another chance to go.

After Saturday's game, I hovered in the tunnel at a place where I was told Dusty Baker would come out and talk to people. That turned out not to be the case, but it was the entrance to the Cubs' interview room and clubhouse, and while waiting there, I was able to meet Carrie Muskat (my idol--a talented female Cubs beat writer) and to see--up close and personal--both Cubs catcher Paul Bako and John Cusak, actor, Chicago native and Cubs fan extraordinnaire. As if that wasn't enough, among the line of travel bags being rolled in to the players (they had lost that day, sending the series back to Atlanta for another game) was a particularly spectacular Louis Vuitton bag. My eye travelled up from the wheels, over the bag and its unusually long handle to the unusually long arm of one Michael Jordan, who was flying with the Cubs to Atlanta that night. This was my single most memorable brush with greatness.

Yes, I'm just another starry-eyed fan.



These are some of my recent memories of Cubs-watching. Here is the story of how I became, and why I will always be, a Cubs fan:

Being born into a family that lacked baseball fans, I was a bit late in finding my way to the roller coaster we call life as a Cubs fan. I now find it strange to think of how many of my life events match up with big events in the life of the Cubs. I was born in the Western suburbs of Chicago in September of 1969, just in time for the Mets' late-season comeback to crush our team out of contention. My Dad was a car-racing fanatic and my Mom liked football, so no one introduced me to the Cubs at that time. Milt Pappas' no-hitter v. the Padres, in which he missed a perfect game by one strike, came on my third birthday. I played girls' softball as soon as I was old enough, and started thinking about baseball, too.

I began watching the Cubs games every day on WGN during the summer of 1983, just before I began high school. I remember this because my mother had just returned to work and it was the first time I was allowed to watch TV for hours on end. I hung on every pitch of every game, fell in love with Ryne Sandberg and honed my skills at second base on my summer traveling softball team in his honor. The next year, the Cubs went to the playoffs, Ryno was MVP, Sutcliffe won the Cy Young and the Cubs lost to the Padres in the NLCS. It was my first taste of the disappointment that comes with being a Cubs fan. But I stuck with the team, loving the infield combination that was Durham, Sandberg, Bowa/Dunston, Ron Cey and Jody Davis. Andre Dawson won the MVP the year I graduated from high school and moved to Texas for college.

After I left the Chicago area, the Cubs started night baseball and lost another playoff round to a California team, the Padres. I followed them the best I could from Texas, without WGN and in the pre-internet days, by going to my college's library to check the newspaper for the baseball scores. My Dad began keeping up with the Cubs a bit so that he could keep me up to date during our weekly chats, even though he wasn't very interested in baseball.

I did not do as good a job of staying in touch with the Cubs during the early 90's, when I was immersed in law school. But I did my best to keep my hand in the world of baseball by catching the occasional "Two Dollar Tuesday" Astros game, at the Astrodome in Houston, and tried to see at least one game a year at Wrigley during quick visits home. The baseball strike cut the season short the summer after my law school graduation, so instead of doing a post-bar exam tour of baseball parks, I backpacked overseas with some friends. During the trip, I eagerly purchased a copy of "USA Today" at the newsstand of every train station we visited to see if the strike was over yet. Upon my return, I was working so hard as a young lawyer that I had neither the time nor the funds for cable TV. But I started to get the hang of my new career and splurged on a cable subscription, resuming my helpless love affair with the Cubs just in time to see the early years of Sammy Sosa's time on the North Side.

Of course, 1998 brought Kerry Wood's 20-strikeout game, the great Sosa/McGuire home run race and a first-ever Cubs tiebreaker win for a playoff spot. These exciting events were the subject of many of my Sunday evening talks with my Dad, in which we continued to bridge the 1,200 miles between Illinois and Texas. By this time, I think he was a little in love with baseball, too. The year of 1998 is now burned in my memory as beginning with Harry Caray's death and ending with my father's death. But the baseball moments we shared in that magical season are among my fondest memories of time spent with my Dad.

My time spent watching the Cubs--whether they were having a good season (2001) or a bad one (2000)--was a bright spot in the rough years that followed. My brother and I tried to support each other and he attended the Cubs game with me whenever I was home for a visit. He is no sports fan, and I realize now what it meant for him to spend 3 hours with me at Wrigley when he could not have cared less about what was happening there!

Then, in the glorious year of 2003, things fell into place, both for me and the Cubs! Finally, I stopped being annoyed by Ron Santo's interminable stories during the broadcast and instead began not wanting to experience a game without him. I listened to every game on the internet, and remember vividly that last day of the season, the double-header day when the Cubs finally clinched their playoff spot. My best friend had her first baby the same day, and I excitedly purchased a plane ticket and playoff tickets the moment the spot was clinched. I flew home the next weekend, greeted my friend's new baby and attended 2 of the Cubs' games against the Braves. I had never seen Wrigley in person with a playoff spirit before, and the feeling was electrifying and emotional and almost holy. After the 2nd game I saw, which we lost, I even had the good fortune to meet Carrie Muskat (I explained to her how she had my dream job, just before she walked into the Cubs' interview room) and to rub elbows with John Cusack (there to offer moral support to the team after the game) and Michael Jordan (who accompanied the team on their plane to Atlanta). What a surreal time that was.

We all know how that season of 2003 ultimately ended. I was devastated . . . so much so that coworkers sent flowers! But the next year, the Red Sox won it all, almost as if the universe was sending the message to all Cubs fans that it is too soon to give up. And I found myself captivated by the Sox's run, enjoying every game almost as if it was our team bringing tears to the eyes and a head shaking in disbelief with each amazing win.

I don't know what the future will bring for the Cubs or for Cubs fans, including me. But the history of the Cubs is so intertwined with my own life history in my memory that I don't know how I could ever separate the two now. I think we're stuck with each other for life.

Go, Cubs go ......................