It’s the day of the World Series Game 1 and the Cubs are in it. I can hardly believe the reality of those words as I am writing this. Baseball is the most nostalgic of all sports for some reason. Cub’s broadcasts on WGN radio and TV were the background sounds of my childhood, both at home with dad and at my grandfather's house - the game was always on. The murmur of Jack Brickhouse, then Harry Caray. I really miss Steve Stone announcing - one of the best baseball analysts ever. My dad liked to listen to the radio broadcast of Milo Hamilton and Lou Boudreaux. He would turn down the TV volume so he could hear those guys on the radio broadcast instead - the faint buzz and occasional static pop of the AM signal. It sounded and felt "old" to me. To him, perhaps it reminded him of his childhood...
Growing up in central Illinois, we would spit going to Wrigley or Busch Stadium to watch the Cubs - it was about a 3 hour drive in either direction. A 6-hour round trip journey was a big investment, so attending 1-2 games per year was very special for a middle class kid who didn't go anywhere. I remember saving up lawn mowing and snow shoveling money in anticipation of buying something at the ball park. Something special that would be the envy of the boys at school and in the neighborhood. Back then you couldn't order whatever you wanted on Amazon for next day delivery like kids can today. Immediate gratification is over-rated. I still remember the sense of excitement and anticipation, standing in front of the stadium vendor, surveying dozens of hats and shirts and pennants - what to buy? Quick, I need to make up my mind - it's almost my turn in line! Then making a snap decision, securing my prized MLB possession. Strangely, I can't remember anything I ever bought - just the feeling. It is difficult coming to terms with the fact that I will never feel that way again - like a child, buying something so insignificant yet thrills your spirit.
It's painful - these associations with baseball. The association with loved ones passed on who you loved and loving the Cubs with them. I still remember my first Cubs game in 1975 when I was just 6 years old - being there with my dad and his parents - 3 generations of fans.The simple memories of simpler times - of childhood gone forever. The nostalgia - it's so heavy in my spirit even now as I write this, fighting back tears. These baseball associations of the Cubs and Wrigley field - I remember these more than Christmas and birthdays.
My grandfather never missed a game. I once asked my grandfather why he was a Cubs fan considering he grew up on the SW side in a polish neighborhood (Archer & Pulaski). He said when he was a kid the Sox were terrible and the Cubs were always competitive. I did the math. the Cubs were in 4 World Series in 10 years. He was born in 1919 so he would have been 10 in 1929, 13 in 1932, 16 in 1935 and 19 in 1938. They used to take the train up to Wrigley and weasel their way into games during the depression.
There was something really special about driving in the car with my grandfather, not talking, the window cracked, the smell of his cigar, just listening to the radio broadcast. I miss that. I wish my grandfather was here to witness this special team. The 2003 team was the last to let him down - they were his last hope to see it actually happen... He died in 2004 at the age of 85 and never saw a championship. My son carries my grandfather's name "Casimir". I'm raising him to be a 4th generation Cubs fan.
Thinking about the Cubs, I think about my grandfather - the man who was more of a father to me than my dad ever was. I think about me and my dad - an empty shell of a relationship, unfortunately - the Cubs being, perhaps, our only thread of continuity... My son is somewhat ambivalent about baseball and the Cubs. But he knows how important the Cubs are to me - and someday, maybe decades from now, that will yield dividends. The sounds and emotions of his childhood. The nostalgia. That would be a good gift, indeed.
And finally, I think about the excitement of that 8-12 year old boy - me, standing in front of a stadium vendor - marveling at the merchandise selection, considering my big purchase. I haven't felt that way in over 35 years, until September 27th this year. I had corporate tickets and plans to take clients to the Cubs game that night. For days I thought about the purchase I was so excited to make - the anticipation of going to Wrigley field to buy and bring home a prized possession. This time I did not need to survey the colorful merchandise selection. I knew exactly what I was going to buy - the official 3x5 foot "W" flag. And for a brief moment, I felt just a little bit like I did when I was a kid.
My wife will never understand why I enjoy flying the "W" flag on our house. But maybe one day my son will...
Go Cubs!