Growing up in a city where your baseball team taught you more about perseverance than the struggles of middle school, watching the Chicago Cubs win the World Series will be lodged in my memory forever. I will remember scream-crying at the top of my lungs after while all my roommates glared at me for bursting their eardrums – sorry @fam. I will remember the mounting anxiety that crippled me as the game rolled into extra innings and then a rain delay threatened another extension to the game. But, most importantly, I will remember that we won. We won. The Cubs one, but really we –all Chicagoans won (even you, Sox fans).
For once, we can say that our team is the “best in baseball” – tbh I heard some ESPN reporter say this earlier in the year and I laughed– but now this fact is true. We can now “Fly the W” without garnering sarcastic remarks. Sure, we might not have the Yankee’s track record, but we sure do have the character to keep the franchise going: Wrigley Field, Harry Carey, Chicago Style hot dogs.
Clearly, a Cubs’ World Series win meant much more to the city than most could imagine. Not only because this win broke the “curse,” but it also validated a sense of pride for the city. While our Cubbies put in countless hours of practice and play time, for some convoluted reason, we, Chicagoans, think with our years of hoping, praying, rooting and wishing had some part in this year’s accomplishment. Having these feelings affirmed was truly why Chicagoans were breaking peoples’ eardrums with their noises (re: me). That said, while it may have taken 116 years for our boys to do it, they got it done and broke the curse. So to that, I will raise a glass of 312 and say, “GO CUBBBS GOOO.”