In 1961, a starting pitcher for the Chicago Cubs, Dick Drott, hit a dry spell, bad even by Cubs standards. He'd gone a year-and-a-half without a victory. And was demoted to reliever.
On this particular day, the Cubs were getting crushed early, and Drott was thanklessly brought in to mop up the loss. But the Cubs actually started to score runs, and unexpectedly took the lead. With two out in the ninth inning, the crowd on its feet roaring, the last batter hit the ball...too weakly. The first words from Hall of Fame announcer, Jack Brickhouse, were simple -- "There's going to be celebrating in the Drott house tonight. Because daddy won a ballgame!"
I think that pretty much encapsulates the past 100 years of Cub history, as well.
And it pretty much explains why the crowd that day at Wrigley Field was in such rapture over a single win. Cubs fans appreciate even a moment's joyous success, because it comes so rarely. Their exuberance over this single victory came in 1961, 53 years since the team's last World Series championship. But 53 years, that's nothing. Double it. Imagine now the attitude of Cubs fans as they embark on this 2008 season that marks the 100th year since that 1908 championship.
This year, there will be countless stories analyzing the Cubs and their legions of diehard fans. Most will try to put a perspective on the quantity of time, explaining what Life Was Like 100 years ago, who was president, the price of bread, number of wars, the Curse of the Billy Goat. But that has little to do with the reality and it lasting for 100 years. (By the way, the Cubs hadn't won a World Series in 37 years when the "Billy Goat Curse" began, placed on the team by tavern owner William Sianis. They were able to lose just fine without it.)
Side note for pop culture buffs: William Sianis's nephew, Sam, took over the bar, and the Billy Goat Tavern later inspired the famous "Cheezborger, cheezborger" sketch on "Saturday Night Live." Good and laughter can transcend failure.
Cubs fans don't follow the team because it loses. They're maniacal, not idiots. They find the pleasure where they can and follow that. A favorite player with an unrelenting work ethic. A rhapsodic storyteller of an announcer. Absorbing an ivy-walled ball yard in the sunshine.
All fans love their teams to varying degrees. Cubs fans have just learned to do it through thin and thin. And hope for the thick. It's a game, but one whose history has weaved through their lives, drawing them together -- together with friends, strangers, too, and your parents' parents' parents. Who cares that there was no TV in 1908? My father grew up six blocks from Wrigley Field and has been watching the Cubs for 86 years. And he still gets infuriated by them. Yet despite zero World Series, he keeps following the team, as did his father, as do I. It's an ingrained part of his life. All our lives together. My mother could not care one whit about sports, and even she'll follow the Cubs. You don't stop inviting your uncle to Thanksgiving just because he's goofy. Sometimes, you hug him all the closer.
What most people don't realize is that in the early days, the Cubs were actually great. The Chicago Cubs have the second most wins in the history of baseball. Just 15 short of 10,000. (And yes, they have 526 more wins than loses.) Americans, we are told, love a winner. And Americans, we are also told conversely -- and contradictorily -- love an underdog. The Cubs have it all covered.
There's no pride in losing. And no holier-than-attitude for being "long suffering." But there is a pride in standing by others who need it because that's when you are supposed to do so, win or lose or lose or lose. You exhort them for doing wrong, you rail at their errant ways and stupidity -- but you cheer their successes, large and mostly small, and accept them for the pleasure of their company.
Most fans start every season shouting, "This could be the year!" Cubs fans do, as well -- they're just more likely to yell, "This could be the game!" Or inning. While we bemoan a loss, we appreciate what's good. And take that on to the next game. Or next year. Or decade. Or generation. Sorry, generations.
So, no, it's not remarkable that there are so many Cubs fans. What's remarkable is that there are any. There has been every reason to stop attending games. The Cubs' dry years would make the Sahara Desert envious. Now add day baseball. A tiny ballpark. Televising every home game for half a century. Other ballclubs move away. The Cubs and their fans stayed.
In 1984, the Cubs made it into the postseason for the first time in 39 years, one victory from getting in the World Series. Friends and I drove from Los Angeles to San Diego three times to see the Cubs lose three times.
At the last out, surrounded by now-hated Padres' fans celebrating, we made our way to the raucous parking lot. A car drove past, and seeing our Chicago gear, someone inside mindlessly screeched, "Hey, Cubs fans!! You're going to have to wait another 39 years!!!" In a rare moment when you think of the right thing to say at the right moment, I calmly called back, "And if we have to, we will."
Please, 39 years? Ha, that's a piffle. We'll wait another 100 years. And cheer and complain and buy bread, whatever it costs. The thing is, though, I like our team this year. Sure, I like our team every year, so what? Hope really does spring eternal. Every Spring.
This could be the century!