The year was 1945, when Murphy entered Wrigley Field and took his place in his box seat. It was the World Series in baseball, and the Chicago Cubs had a 2-1 lead over the Detroit Lions. Fans thought, this was the year the Cubbies would bring it home, a World Series championship. It was their first appearance in the Series since 1908 when it began to rain on Wrigley Field, and Murphy started to omit an odor. As fans complained of the unwelcoming stench, security took action and asked that Murphy remove himself from the stadium. Murphy and his owner, William Sianis, weren’t pleased with the course of action that had taken place, thus, the “curse of the goat” began. Sianis remained outside Wrigley Field with his Billy goat, Murphy, and placed a curse on the Chicago Cubs to never again win another series in Wrigley Field. It is now 2009, and the Cubs have yet to make an appearance in a World Series championship. This I believe: Next year is here.
Maybe it was the blue traveling uniforms that I loved so much or the Cubs mascot, the authenticity of Wrigley Field or the sound of Sosa’s bat making contact with the baseball for another homerun during the homerun race with Mark McGuire. It was the love of the game, it thrilled me since my dad first turned on the Cubs, announced by the famous Harry Caray. Whatever it was, it made me a believer.
It’s a special thing to be a Chicago Cubs fan, and a lot of rules that come with the role. Rule number one: once a Cubs fan, always a Cubs fan. There are highs and lows; multiple lows to be precise. Let’s face it, the Chicago Cubs are known for their ability to disappoint. However, a rule of being a Cubs fan is loyalty, and no matter how much it hurts to witness a Cubs defeat, there will always be another game.
Rule number two: tradition. Being a Cubs fan is a tradition; therefore, loyalty must be passed down to each following generation. My grandpa made my dad a fan; my dad made me a fan. I plan to follow in their footsteps, and my children will be dressed in Cubs attire the instant they are born. I grew up watching and attending games. I used to sit on the steps of my house crying as my dad and his friends left for Wrigley to share some brewskies and watch the games. I was too young for the beer and boys nights, so I would stay up until they came back and my dad could give me the recap of the Cubs. Tradition, it comes with the love of the game.
Rule number three: it doesn’t matter how hot, cold, or downright nasty the weather is, a Cubs fan always stays for the whole game. The game isn’t over until the final score is announced. We’re from Chicago, and the Cubs are our team; the players play the game and the fans support them.
Rule number four: next year is always here. I don’t care if its been 101 or a thousand years, we will make an appearance at the Championship again. The great thing about the Cubs is that they don’t give up; it gives a fan confidence. So whether they make it to the play-offs or not, a true fan’s motto is “next year is here”.
Finally, the most important rule of them all, rule number five. If there is one rule a Cubs fan follows, it’s this: The Chicago White Sox are and always will be the enemy. The north side Cubs vs. the south side White sox is a never-ending rivalry. There is no uglier sight than black and grey pinstriped jerseys and a white sock on the hat of a baseball player. The sound of fireworks going off at U.S. Cellular stadium after a winning game makes me sick. The iron stadium of U.S. Cellular Field is nothing compared to the legendary ivory walls of Wrigley Field.
The Cubs haven’t only been an American legend, but a family one as well. It all started with my grandpa and his own personal love for the Chicago Cubs. He took his love for the game and played too. My grandpa was a pitcher for a minor league Cubs team. My grandma and her sister would go to the local games where my grandfather would play. My grandma had a thing for “long legs and a tight ass”, and used to watch my grandpa play baseball. She told her sister one day, after admiring my grandfather endlessly, “I’m going to marry that man”. Well, my grandpa must have made a homerun that day, because the next thing my grandma knew, she wore his ring on her finger. Eventually, one thing led to another and my dad was born. As my dad says, “Grandpa married grandma because of baseball, which led to me, and eventually led to you. No baseball, no you!” Baseball is the reason I’m here, which makes sense, because I live for the Cubs.
I have seen the highs and lows of my baseball team. I have now moved out of Chicago but remain a loyal fan. I meet people on the streets of Lexington, Kentucky who are true believers, and it gives me a taste of Chicago. I never feel too far from home when the Cubs are on T.V, or when I meet a die-hard fan. I believe in the Cubs. I sat in my dorm room for four nights in a row last year watching the Cubs lose to the L.A. Dodgers. We all thought they would win the series, being conference champions and all. But this I believe; Next year is here.
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