Chicago Cubs: Maybe next year

Chicago Cubs: Maybe next year

Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened through the ages just like wine
Quiet thoughts come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories,
Sweet memories (Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC)

Baseball is a game of memories. Memories made and memories cherished. Memories held dear by people in the fall and winter of their lives. Memories being made by those in the spring and summer of their lives.

Memories of lazy afternoons at the ballpark. Playing hooky from school and work to attend games.

Sitting in the bleachers on a sunny afternoon.

Sitting in a saloon drinking cold beer watching the game in television.

Listening to the game on radio while at work or stuck in traffic.

Memories of the joy of victory and agony of defeat.

Baseball memories are sweet. The young have their heroes. The adults cheer on their teams. The old remember the past when they claim baseball was baseball.

Cubs fans have memories. Good and bad.

This year memories were made. The Cubs had a chance to beat the 70 year curse. They had a shot at the World Series. They were contenders.

They beat the St. Louis Cardinals, the best team in baseball this year, in the NLDS.

They went on to play the New York Mets for the NLCS and a chance to play in the World Series. They lost twice in New York and Tuesday at Wrigley Field.

The outlook wasn't good for the Cubs Wednesday night.

The Cubs needed to win four in a row. An impossible task post season.

With the Mets dominating the first inning Cub's fans had that sickly feeling again. By the second inning the Mets were up 6-0.

The Cubs went down 8-3. The Cubs came to play baseball. The Mets came to win.

Maybe next year.

You could see it in the eyes of the fans during the first inning of the game. The Mets scored four runs. The fans knew. The fat lady was warming up her vocal chords.

By the second inning, the fans folded their hands in prayer. The fat lady was getting ready to go on stage.

Cub's fans came to Wrigleyville in as early as 1:00 p.m. They held on to a shred of hope. Maybe next year will be this year.

Maybe next year.

The Cubs should have pennants made. White with blue lettering, writ large. "MNY". They could fly over Wrigley in the post season til opening day. A reminder to keep hope alive.

Cub's fans are peculiar creatures. They adore their lovable losers. Somewhere deep in their bosoms their is a spark. The spark of eternal hope. Cubs fans live in the future of hope. They do not give past despair a thought.

Maybe next year.

Next year comes. Year after year. Decade after decade.

Hope comes alive every spring like a sprig of greenery sprouting through the remaining snow.


Cubs fans buy all the team stuff. Hats, jerseys, geegaws, kitsch, and nick nacks.

Cub's fans fill the ballpark and surrounding bars. They buy all the team stuff. Hats, jerseys, geegaws, kitsch, and nick nacks.

They drink the beer, eat peanuts, dogs, and other foods offered. They spend money.

Cubs fans suffer through the changing Wrigley climate. Warm, chilly, cold, depending on the prevailing winds.

Cubs fans are dedicated. Dedicated to this season and next year. Season after season, year after year.

Cubs baseball is a game for old people and children.

Old and young. Living with and making memories.

The old hope for a championship before they die. The young hope for a championship before they get old.

Maybe next year.

They say this year was a building season. Maybe next year will be a winning season. Maybe next year the built team will go all the way. If not there is always the next year.

Maybe next year.

Cubs fans, old and young, keep hope alive.

Hope is all they have.

Maybe next year.

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