The first accolade came as I walked from my Phoenix hotel room to the lobby in search of a Starbucks blend that wasn’t present in room 3028.
“Congratulations,” a woman said, her eyes gesturing to my sternum.
While in the coffee line, a text popped up: “You did it. Helluva job.”
A Facebook message followed shortly thereafter: “You must be so proud. Enjoy the moment. You earned it.”
Never in my life could I recall receiving such a steady stream of ego-boosting praise. Not after the births of my children, a rollicking stand-up comedy set at a packed Chicago club, or even when I was crowned second grade spelling victor at Windsor Elementary School in 1972. Or was it ’73? Siri was no help.
It was all the result of my longtime allegiance to the Chicago Cubs, now the reigning World Series champs. The Cubs shirt I sported on my way to the hotel Starbucks caught the female stranger’s eye, hence the head nod towards my midsection. The texts, phone calls and social media posts came from friends and acquaintances. Everyone commending ME!
Before all this back-slapping, I thought I had nothing to do with the Cubs ending their 108-year victory drought. But because so many people complimented me specifically, I began wondering if maybe, just maybe, I WAS responsible. I seemed to be getting more praise than Bill Murray and Eddie Vedder combined.
I thought about the two Cubs games I attended in this most magical of seasons. The first occurred June 19, Father’s Day. Yes, the Cubs beat the Pirates 10-5 but for me, the highlight was taking selfies with my wife and kids prior to the first pitch and teaching both daughters how to use Uber. Oh, and watching Cubs catcher Wilson Contreras hit a home run in his first major league at bat. But I checked the box score and all the Cubs runs were charged to Pittsburgh, not to me. No help there.
I returned to Wrigley Field on August 11 to witness a 4-3, extra inning victory against the hated St. Louis Cardinals. I mostly recall sweltering in the park’s upper regions, shoulder to shoulder with a sold out crowd that was now becoming commonplace as the Cubs steamrolled toward, at the very least, a division title. I also recall spending three innings in the men’s room line. But nothing happened in the latrine (the nicest word I can think of to describe Wrigley bathroom facilities) that could be linked to the Cubs’ recent victory parade down Michigan Avenue.
I suppose I could say that the approximately $750 I spent attending these games helped pay the hefty salaries of Cubs pitchers Jon Lester and Aroldis Chapman, two key ingredients in the team’s march to victory. But every fan who attended a Cubs game in 2016 could easily say the same thing; it was me and me alone that my friends were worshipping. So what did I do?
Then it hit me. World Series Game 5, eighth inning. With no ticket and reduced to live tweeting the contest, I expressed online support for Cubs manager Joe Maddon’s questionable decision to let Chapman bat with Jason Heyward on second base. The Twitterverse pounced on me, replying that the Cubs needed some insurance runs, Chapman was gassed, blah blah blah. Only I seemed to think otherwise.
The TV cameras showed Maddon checking an iPad. Was he reading my tweet? Entirely possible. This is a man who tells players to wear pajamas on team flights. I follow his Twitter account. He doesn’t follow me, but that means nothing. After all, 1970s pop star Helen Reddy doesn’t follow me either yet she “liked” one of my recent tweets.
Bottom line? Against everybody’s advice except mine, Chapman stayed in the game, got the outs the Cubs needed and sent the series back to Cleveland. The rest is history.
So you’re welcome, Cubs fans, for ending your suffering. Being a modest individual, I don’t need any more congratulatory texts or posts.
Just follow me on Twitter and save me a seat on the bus during next year’s victory parade.
