“World Series.” “Chicago Cubs.” Phrases not linked in 71 years. Add “champions” and it had been 108. I had to be there … in Chicago … at Wrigley Field.
That late, balmy October weekend, I would soak up the sights, the sounds, the emotions and the excitement. It was a singular, historic event, a generational love fest. I couldn’t miss it. Many of my fondest childhood memories revolve around family road trips from Iowa to the “Friendly Confines” and lazy summer days of “The Chicago Cubs Are on the Air” radio broadcasts. The starting lineup for the fabled ’69 season still rolls off my tongue as easily as the street names that ring that iconic stadium. The moment in ’69 when a stranger came out of nowhere and handed six poor college students free tickets to that now famous opening game and the day in ’93 that my husband and I hosted our rehearsal dinner of hot dogs and beer in the stands rank as some of the best stories of this lifelong Cubs’ fan.
‘That pivotal game 5 would be the turning point and I shared those final moments with a riotous group of new friends down the road at Higgins Tavern …’
Other “long suffering” fans swarming Wrigleyville had their stories, too, and were eager to share. Like me, most had come some distance without tickets just to “be there,” to pay homage to their beloved Cubs and the family members and friends who did not live to see this day.
“The Girl on the Train” riding into town with me flew in from Portland just in time for the start of Game 3 and was headed back on a red eye. She hoped to catch a home run ball. She came to a city she didn’t know because her deceased grandmother had raised her a Cubs fan. I heard stories of youthful expeditions from the Chicago suburbs to games in the ‘50s and ‘60s from “Hoofie” and “Moose,” now living in Arizona. At Starbucks, another fan gave a detailed account of Ken Holtzman’s first no-hitter that he witnessed from the bleachers. A woman from Bloomington shopping for a stylish Cubs jacket came with her adult sons.
A wife for 30 years, a widow for six, she joyously recounted her wedding day that included a vow to forever and always be a Cubs Fan. She also whispered, conspiratorially, that at one game she sprinkled her husband’s ashes in the beautiful ivy that adorns the outfield wall. And then there were the two sisters fighting off the chilly air, wrapped in serapes crocheted in Cubs colors in the ’70s by their mother.
In the hours before the start of Game 4, the mood was electric and festive in spite of the Cubs being down 2 to 1 in the series. Thousands of “Die Hards” wandered the streets while others waved from roofs, windows and balconies festooned with pennants, red and blue streamers and the symbolic blue on white “W” flag. The rallying chant, “Go, Cubs Go,” could be heard everywhere. Long lines at bars snaked around corners. The historic 1915 firehouse across from the 1914 ballpark served free hot dogs as people nearby jockeyed for position behind the Fox broadcast booth hoping to wave and cheer for the cameras.
Friends and families posed in front of the famous Clark and Addison marquee and at the statue of Harry Caray at Sheffield and Waveland. A live billy goat taunted superstitious fans until two “Goat Busters” with proton packs and phasers were called to the scene. On a sidewalk, a 3-year-old in a Cubs jersey entertained passersby as he batted a ball and excitedly ran the bases, in reverse. Babies sported miniature Cubs uniforms. Adults donned Cubs pajamas and bear costumes.
Team jerseys were everywhere, Rizzos and Bryants the favorites, with occasional nostalgic nods to Santo and Banks. Look alike Cubs’ Manager Joe Maddon appeared on the scene as a real Eddie Vedder hustled by with his entourage. Then the ballpark lights came on and soon after we could hear the National Anthem. The crowd began to disperse to parties and bars. I watched the start of the game through windows as I made my way to my friend’s home. That game we took a beating and my friend struck an instinctive and familiar pose … his head cupped in his hands. Now down 3 games to 1, tomorrow would be the first of three “do or die” games.
The morning of Game 5, Sunday, found me on a peaceful stroll along the Chicago River Walk. Other fans had found respite there also. Kayakers quietly skimmed the river with the backdrop of a dramatic skyline as children played in a pumpkin patch along the route. As I made my way North on the crowded “L” mid-afternoon, I wondered if the mood around Wrigley would be different … more subdued, less festive. It was neither.
The party was in full swing. This night, my last in Chicago, I lingered in Wrigleyville. For a while, I shared the drama with some of “Chicago’s Finest” as we gathered at the windows of a nearby packed bar. One of my cop buddies and I concurred that what the Cubs needed to win were some hits! We high-fived when we heard the roar of the stadium crowd and seconds later saw Kris Bryant’s home run on the big screens. That pivotal winning game would be the turning point and I shared those final moments with a riotous group of new friends down the road at Higgins Tavern on Racine. Monday was a day of rest for everyone as the Cubs headed to Cleveland and their destiny. I prepared to fly home but not before a final stop at the final resting place of the beloved Mr. Cub, “Let’s Play Two,” Ernie Banks.
The simple two-foot granite plinth with a baseball diamond etched on top had seen a steady stream of visitors that week.
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I was back home with my husband for Games 6 and 7. Pacing, shaking and nearly throwing up during that turbulent final game, I recalled what my Chicago friend, Rita, said during that disastrous Game 4. I had asked if she thought they could still win it all. Her emphatic, resounding response was “Absolutely! Never give up. These are our Cubs.”
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Ellen Shapley is a freelance writer and architectural historian/guide residing in Hood River. She dedicates this article to her high school friend Mary Ellen who died unexpectedly and tragically just five weeks ago, after being hit by a truck in a cross walk on a bright sunny day in Cincinnati. “She was a dear friend and my Cubs buddy,” said Ellen.
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