great hope

Many years ago, my brother (a long-suffering Cubs devotee) called me to say his lottery number was picked to purchase season tickets to the loveable losers. He didn't exactly have the extra thousands in the bank, so I gave him some money. Every single year, he tries to sell some of the seats to offset the rather pricey (in my opinion) cost, but for most games of the season, he couldn't even give the these tickets away. Until this year.

The Cubs are in the playoffs. Tonight they even ousted the hated St. Louis Cardinals. And I was there to see it. My brother could have invited any number of close friends to be his Plus 1, but he asked me, because he "wouldn't even have these tickets if it weren't for" me. Awww. 

It was exciting. I took the opportunity to get myself a Kris Bryant shirt and an Anthony Rizzo one for the baby plus a teeny skull cap that she calls her " 'at." My brother bought me a hot dog and a beer. As far as I was concerned, no matter how the game turned out, I was satisfied. 

Being in the stadium on the night they clinched the quarterfinal was absolutely magical. Madelyn lives a few blocks away and she could hear the crowd. Being in it, you could feel the energy coursing through the stands like a slow, rolling hum. And after that final at-bat, it was as if an earthquake hit Wrigley Field; the place just exploded. 

We hung around for awhile to see the players on the field and met up with my brother's friends at the Draft Kings--formerly Captain Morgan (I can't believe that fantasy football is so lucrative)--Club and walked around a little before getting into a cab. Wrigleyville apparently partied until the birds woke up.

It wasn't to last. The Cubs were eliminated in a sweep by the New York Mets in the next series, but for an evening, maybe even a week, my brother was so incredibly happy and hopeful. I will treasure the experience for always.