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.