Tag Archives: World Series

Waiting For Leo Durocher

The clouds were puffy, the air was sweet and all was well in heaven save for the myriad of Cub fans lucky enough to call heaven their forever home.

Sure they had the same amenities as the rest of the tenants but they had departed the mortal plane wanting. There were plenty of blue sky occupants disgruntled with the circumstances with which they came to find their selves aboard the heavenly bus. Cub fans, in particular, held onto their disappointment ironically like grim death. Living their entire lives without witnessing the Cubs win a World Series stuck with them through many phases of their lives including their last.

You may think  that in the grand scheme of life a lousy trophy is a dust mote in an endless beam of sun but spend some time around Cub fans and understanding may be yours.

During the ebb and flow of the 2016 baseball season, there existed an undertow of excitement among baseball fans both living and dead. Seasoned Cub fans tempered the current atmosphere with pain from the past. They had been on this bandwagon before and derailment had left long-lasting scars. By the close of September, most were firm believers that this time the Cubs were going to make it to the final destination. There was still one solitary soul who thought there was time for one more epic derailment. He had cause. He was Leo Durocher. He was at the helm of the loveable losers during their infamous 1969 season. Many fans and writers alike labeled 1969  the year of the “Miracle Mets”. Repeat after me there was no miracle that year. The Cubs choked. They led their division by nine games in September before going on a road trip they never returned from.

During the seventh game of the 2016 World Series, the view of Cleveland stadium to those in the hereafter was, well, heavenly. The game played out before them in a panoramic 360 and not one seat was a bad one.  If you were monitoring the comings and goings of the crowd, you would notice during the sixth inning the arrival of the aforementioned Leo Durocher. As with all Cub fans he had finally cast aside his past in the belief that after 108 years, this was the Cubs time. It was the seventh game and it was theirs to win.

During the late innings of the game, the unthinkable happened. After leading the first seven innings the Cubs could not close the back door. Cleveland snuck in some runs and tied it in the eighth inning. Nobody mustered any runs in the ninth so the game was heading into extra innings.

The grand view from heaven became obscured by clouds of all things and rain began to fall upon Jacobs* field. Cubs fans on the mortal plain would later say, tongue in cheek,  that the ensuing delay was a gift from heaven. Fans from the celestial sphere sitting in the vicinity of Mr. Durocher would later recall his tear moistened cheeks and the incongruous smile he wore that seemed to clear the clouds.

He knew the Cubs would win but not without strumming the fans heartstrings one more time. That was the Cubs way. 

The game resumed after a brief delay and the Cubs proceeded to vanquish the ghosts of 1969, pulling the bandwagon into the final destination and taking with them millions of fans from both sides of the ethereal plane.  If one glanced briefly one could see the ghost of Leo Durocher manning the engine and silently crying.

* Sorry. the game of baseball is too steeped in tradition for anyone to call it Progressive field.

Cubs Win World Series. For a Moment Therapists lose Millions of Clients.

Economic reports just in show that the many of the  nations therapists have suddenly lost millions of dollars.

One explanation favored by several economists is that this therapeutic downturn is a direct result of the Chicago Cubs winning the world series.

We have decided to investigate this particular angle and have sent our reporter in the street, Roy Hobbes, to investigate the possibility. Roy:

“Roy Hobbes here, I am on the streets of Chicago trying the get the pulse of the citizens in this city. I am particularly interested in the general mental well being of Chicago Cub fans. Here comes one now.”

“You sir are obviously a Cub fan can I ask you a question?”

“Uh, what makes you think I’m a Cubs fan?”

“Well, you’re wearing a Cubs hat.”

“Oh that, yea well I’m actually a White Sox fan but it’s more socially acceptable to be a Cubs fan.”

“Love the loyalty.”

“What was that Roy?”

“Nothing , have a nice day sir.”

“You young man, can I have a word with you .”

“Sure”

“Are you a Cub fan?”

“Uh, yea, I’m wearing  a Cubs cap, Cubs jacket and I have a Cubs tattoo on my face. What was your first clue?”

“Well, you just never know now do you? Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Why sure”

“So sir ..”

“You can call me Joe”

“Ok. Joe, how are you feeling these days?”

“Well , a little hung over and my knee is a little swollen from dancing but other than that I feel great.”

“Good but how about your psychological well being. Any anxiety these days/“

“Why no. Why would I? The future is looking bright and I feel I can tackle anything. I even threw away the number to my Psychiatrist.”

“How did you feel before baseball season?”

“Well, if I look back I have to admit I was full of anxiety like a beauty queen with Donald Trump hanging around. I was constantly on the phone with my therapist.”

“And what do you suppose is the reason for your new found tranquility?”

“Why the sudden loss of a 108 year old burden of course.”

“But sir, you can’t be a day over 50.”
“Ha, you flatter me but no I am talking about the number of years since the Cubs had won the world series don’t you know.”

“Why of course I know. I meant you yourself..oh never mind. Don’t you have more important things to worry about.”

“Like what?”

“Oh you know the outcome of the recent election.”

“Oh, yea. Um, you do have a point. Excuse me….”

“Hey , Joe,” yelled Roy as Joe ran swiftly away.

“Where are you going?”

“To my garbage before its picked up. I think I can get my therapist’s number back!”

Ray watched as Joe became a small dot before he heard the screaming.

“Reminds me of an old party balloon,” thought Roy.

“Well, there you have it. Further proof that a career in therapy is recession proof. I am Roy Hobbes your reporter on the street signing off.”
“

“Thanks Roy. Great to hear that you’re making sure that people don’t forget to worry. I think he’s in some kind of referral program with the APA. That reminds me, I need to give my therapist a call.”

The Fading Ghosts of ’69

The place had emptied. The last hot dog wrapper of 2015 had drifted across the infield and made its exit out into the parking lot. A few wisps of vapor had lingered in the right field bleachers. If one listened closely one could almost hear the vapor speak.

“Same time next year fellas?”

“Yea, the usual.”

“I think next year is the last, next year.”

“What are you giving up?”

“Never, but next year we’ll be satisfied and we’ll move on.”

“Yea, I think you’re right. It feels different this time.”

“I saw that goat leave during the season.”

“Oh really, when?”

“It was just after a walk off win.”

“Which one? We had a bunch.”

“September 28, 2015.”

“The last one, against the Royals?”

“Yea. We didn’t know it then but the goat knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That we just took 2 out of 3 from a team bound for the World Series.”

“Yea but that was before we made the playoffs, before we beat St Louis to move to the NLCS.”

“Yea but at that point the goat knew that was a foregone conclusion and that his time was up.”

“I’m not going to miss that goat.”

“Me either, he stunk.”

“When does spring training start?”

“It’s just around the corner.”

Note: The Author is a lifelong Cub fan and spent the summer of 1969 firmly entrenched in the friendly confines.  They have broken his heart more times than the women in his life. He is still a diehard fan….of both.