Saturday morning, seven hours after the last pitch of the Cubs 1-0 loss to Cleveland in the third game of the World Series, and I’m driving into the local recycling area to dispose of garbage and recyclables. The young man who’s responsible for collecting money in the small, family run operation smiles as he approaches the driver side window. Like me he’s wearing a hoodie to protect against the drizzle that’s been hovering over the Champlain Valley.
“Four dollars, please,” he says, and continues, “those Cubs have had a great year.” He gives a thumb’s-up while pointing to the Cubs logo on the hoodie I’m wearing. I’ve heard similar declarations from: butchers and produce workers at the grocery store, a receptionist and radiologist, tenants in the building where I have an office, employees at Noonies–my favorite lunch spot–and in other settings, regardless of whether I’m attired in clothing bearing (no pun) a Cubs logo or not.
The beloved North Siders, the Chicago Cubs, are a welcome story, a refreshing narrative at a time when acrimonious and vitriolic speech, during a presidential campaign filled with accusation and lacking civility, has dominated the news. The Cubbies, as they are affectionately called, finished the season with the best record in baseball—103 wins and 58 losses. An impressive accounting for a team in any baseball season, but especially this year because of the Cubs’ past and status as a perennial and much loved “loser.” It could just be enough. Now they’re playing with the “house’s money.”
I’ll explain.
You enter a casino and approach the roulette wheel with a hundred dollars, and after an hour of winning and losing you hit a hot streak and realize you’re fifty dollars richer. You pocket the original one hundred and continue to play with the fifty. Now you’re playing with the house’s money.
The “roulette wheel” spun and stopped at our number—best record in the game, and a berth in the World Series; so let’s “pocket” the winnings and be grateful. Though all their fans, the team, and entire organization would love to raise a 2016 World Series banner above the outfield bleachers in Wrigley Field, there is a subtle thread, among fans, that we’ve [already] accomplished the “amazing.”
I love coffee in the morning, but sometimes the aroma, subtle and enticing, fills me. A whiff of baseball greatness might just be enough for some Cub fans, especially if winning redefines the character of their love affair with the team.
Tonight I’ll be back in front of the TV for game four, a fire stoked, a cold brew in hand, rooting for those beloved losers to become beloved winners—the rest will take care of itself.
by 
