I'm not the biggest Cubs fan in the world. I don't collect memorabilia. I'm not a season ticket holder. I've never been to spring training.
But I will say that visiting Wrigley Field for the first time may have been the defining moment of my life. It feels like home. The Cubs feel like family. And every game feels like yet another family meal that I'm not allowed to miss.
I don't cheer for the Cubs because I want to, I do it because I believe I was born this way and I don't know what else to do. I will never give up on the Cubs. I will never be done with them.
I've had "Go Cubs Go" in my head since 1984.
I pound on things when the Cubs lose.
I was among the 15,000 fans at the Kerry Wood game. I sat in the bleachers, a ticket for which I paid $6.
I still like Sammy Sosa.
I'm not an eternal optimist, but I never get all that down on the team. I don't like criticizing the manager or the management. I prefer to try to understand them and what they're doing. Except for Larry Himes. He was an ass.
At some point every year I allow myself to imagine what I would do if the Cubs won the World Series. At some point later I always wonder if that's what jinxed them.
Some part of me wants the Cubs to tank so we can return to the days when a spring bleacher ticket cost $6 and only 15,000 people would come to a game where the starter was some unproven gangling rookie.
I will miss Kerry Wood, but I won't miss people calling him "Woods."
I knew I could trust Tony on "24" because he drank out of a Cubs mug.
I love white flags, blue W's, green ivy, and crooked yellow numbers on the bottom row of the scoreboard.
I believe guest conductors should always start the 7th inning stretch with no other words than, "Alright, let me hear ya. A one, a two, a three. . . ."
I hate the Cardinals. Go Cubs.
