looking forward

It's like looking back at my elementary school picture, isn't it? I'll be short. Those fine, upstanding gentlemen are the 1908 Chicago Cubs. The last in a line of three consecutive championship teams. Tonight begins the homestretch toward what I can only hope will be the first championship in a century. I shouldn't complain so much, really, because my Cubs' consciousness only runs back about 30 years and my greatest crushing blow was losing the 1984 NLCS to the San Diego Padres. There's been only one other, 2003, that came as close to breaking my heart. Shoot, my parents, both Chicagoland natives were 9 and 11 when the Cubbies last appeared in the World Series. My dearest aunt should be here to see this if it happens - an Old Style in one hand, a Salem in the other, and WGN radio turned up; she hated Harry Carey all those years and refused to listen to his 'lovable' babbling. The radio broadcast was on for the 1st - 3rd innings and 6th - 9th; Harry used to go over to radio for the middle innings and she's just reverse the process and listen for an hour to the TV announcers. She was a Northside original. 

It's a longer post-season than it used to be and they've got to hold it together for 11 wins over the next month - 11 out of 19 to be called champions again. This is certainly the best team they've had in my lifetime but I'll be holding my breath every night they're going at it. There's little that will get an American boy going like watching his baseball team try to win the World Series - it doesn't happen often, the chances rare.

Maybe I should walk out Melrose, turn right on Broadway, and walk up to Addison like I used to do in the Summer. 

Hope.

t