"Don't Let Anyone Say That It's Just A Game"

I can still remember sitting in the uber that early afternoon up to Wrigley.  Either we were winning a WS for the first time in over 100 years, or we were starting from scratch in 2017.

The Chicago Cubs have a fanbase unlike anyone else.  Although losing is always hard to swallow, we have become almost numb to disappointment over the years; or at least act impervious to the pain when being mocked by fans of other teams.

My Sister and Brother-In-Law live 1 block from Wrigley Field, and their rooftop had been the mainstay for the majority of the playoffs that season.  The previous weekend, when the games when the games were in Chicago, we were fortunate you have our entire family visit from all over the country to all be a part of the monumental occasion together.

By the time the weekend ended, the Cubs were down 3-2 in the best of 7 series, and the atmosphere in Wrigleyville had been teetering on full-panic.  Wanting to change the setting, we decided to spend the rest of the series at our favorite by across the street from Wrigley Field, Bernie's.  The small, lowkey bar was our home away from home when watching our Cubs play.  After an overwhelming victory in Game 6, we knew Bernie's was going to be the location for game 7 as well.  (I would have camped out on the floor if they let me)

I arrived several hours early, and the bar was already filled with a raucous crowd and soon-to-be-gone fingernails.  After getting off to a hot start, we all know about the Indians comeback to tie the game.  I refuse to even type about the horror and fear of blowing the biggest game in franchise history.  In a small bar of people packed like sardines, you could almost feel the oxygen sucked out of the room.  Are we TRULY cursed?

Somehow in extra innings our guys proved that we weren't cursed.  After taking the lead and fending off yet ANOTHER comeback, the Cubs were finally WS champions again.  While celebrating incredulously inside Bernie's, there was almost a sensation in the air that when we walked outside, it was going to have been only a dream.

Fortunately, that wasn't the case.  As we all made our way out the front door, onto Waveland and Clark, the streets were flooded with relieved, hysterical fans.  It was such a privilege to hug strangers that night, knowing many had been waiting several years longer than I had for this exact moment.

I decided to walk back home from the ballpark that night, and without hesitation, an unofficial parade had already begun down Clark St with cars blaring their horns, and people dancing all over.  This was the scene for that hour+ walk, and one I'll hold dear for the rest of my life.  Until then...I'm comin' home baby.