And then the New York series happened.
It was painful to watch. Young talent, lack of post-season experience, outplayed by a better team, that damn goat curse. Whatever the reason, it was disappointing.
And it was disappointing, personally, because my dad wasn’t around to witness the excitement.
My dad was a life-time St Louis fan. I was a long-time Chicago fan. He grew up listening to Harry Carey call the Cards, and I grew up listening to him call the Cubs. It was the first time our fierce rivalry would have gone head-to-head in the playoffs. And he would have loved everything about the post season this year.
As a true Cubs fan, when our season ends, we lift our heads and say “Wait ’till next year” and this time around, I truly believe next year will be our year.
We are not fair-weather but foul-weather fans
We’re like brothers in arms in the streets and the stands
There’s magic in the ivy and the old scoreboard
The same one I stared at as a kid keeping score
In a world full of greed, I could never want more
Than someday we’ll go all the way