When Your Heartstrings Break

Goodbye, 2008 season.

When you are a Cubs fan, you belong to a brotherhood and sisterhood of fellow irrationalists who live and die by the team, even though they know better. They know that the team does not play by sensible logic or abide by natural statistics, mathematical renderings this sport of physical mechanisms loves to calculate for everything from walks per nine innings pitched to on-base-percentage ratios. No, I'm not talking about the Trixies who flood the bleachers in pink bikinis or the Midwestern frat boys who love to wear their Cubs hats backwards while double-fisting.

I'm talking about my good friend and fantastic print artist Dan Grzeca, who a few moments after he was born, received a verbal apology from his grandfather who was sorry that he would have to raise his descendant a Cubs fan. My good friend Jill Morino, who has never forgiven the Cubs for breaking her grandfather's heart in 1984, but will find it in her soul to forgive. Andrew Decker, who is a walking almanac of Cubs facts and statistics covering a significant portion of the last century. Sonny Beta, for whom "Go Cubs Go" was played recently at his mom's funeral and whose daughter is named Adycin, a play on Addison Street. Edgar Rico, Kevin Kelly, Rich Morino and Maria Sanchez, four sports fan friends whom I often watch games with and while they have some of the best managerial minds I know and offer the smartest criticisms of the team, still find room for a soft spot somewhere in the carnage that goes for the Cubular. Jennifer Walker, Chicago superfan. Then there are those who believe with me until the very end, defying the very same logic our team can't seem to take advantage of -- Sara Christensen, Maureen Malloy, Julie Swartz, Joelle Gentner, Joanne Puckett, Ryan Puckett. Even my great sports buddy Lindsay Peterson was yelling at the Cubs to fucking buck up. And she is a Cardinals fan.

This season, we accomplished the following:

- Won our division by a resounding 11.5 games over the Milwaukee Brewers one week before the season ended

- Had the second best record in Major League Baseball (97-64), which was the best record in the National League

- Had five players hit 20 homers or more

- Had three pitchers who won 15 or more games

- Have a probable Rookie of the Year candidate in Geovany Soto

We had great stories, like coming back from being down 8-1 against Colorado in the eighth inning to win in extra innings. Ryan Dempster converted back to a starter from closer and won 17 games, while Kerry Wood converted from starter to closer -- after many years of arm injuries -- to earn 33 saves, a National League leader. (Wood has been a Cub all his life, and turned down multi-year offers from other teams for a one-year contract to remain a Cub -- this, my friends, is what Cub-dom is all about, heartwarmth together with the heartbreak.) From the first day of of the 2008 season to the last day of September, we all knew we had a different team this year. We had a Cubbie swagger, we blew threw cities with our brand of big and small ball, strong starting pitching and an airtight (mostly) bullpen. Even when we lost six in a row in early September, the longest and only losing streak all season, everyone said not to hit the panic button. They were willing to LOL off the warning signs of lackluster offense and poorly executed play. We were the team that was going to win the World Series, the first time in 100 years. We also were the team with the most curses -- how many sports teams do you know have a black cat curse, a billy goat curse, a Bartman curse (Google "Steve Bartman Cubs" if you want to know, it's too hard to explain) and currently, a century curse? Before the playoffs began, we had synagogues pray for us, we had a priest sprinkle holy water on our dugout and we had Muslim fans gather outside the ballpark to pray for us. You see, Chicago Cubs baseball is a religion. Whatever happens to the team hits the core of each of us.

And that's why, the fairy tale wasn't supposed to end this way.

I thought we would beat the Dodgers easily. Since I grew up idolizing the Dodgers, I typical follow the team and know them well. Basically, the Cubs and Dodgers are usually the same team. Great on paper, failure to execute in key situations, particularly in converting baserunners into runs. However, this year the Cubs were not the Cubs we always knew as losers, so I felt we had a good chance of going to the National League Championship Series. We had Ryan Dempster, who was unbeatable at home all season start game one. He had the jitters and he put us in a hole after giving up a grand slam to James Loney that we never climbed back of. In game two, each of our infielders made an error -- first time in National League Division Series history -- that we never had the spirit to overcome. Tonight, we got swept by the Dodgers in one of the most beautiful ballparks in the country, Dodger Stadium at Chavez Ravine. We got out-pitched, but in typical Cubs fashion (again, not the team we were used to this year), we managed to out-hit them eight to six yet we still lost 3-1. Many of us knew we wouldn't make it after losing the first two home games. The 2008 team kept insisting we weren't the same as the 2007 team, which also got swept in last year's N.L.D.S. by the Diamondbacks. But we are. We looked like Joe Six-Pack on the outside but inside, we really were Joe Beer Belly. Our core was weak.

If you're not a Cubs fan, you might be asking right now, "What the fuck?" I hope the above helps to answer your question, although I wouldn't fault you if you're still scratching your head. You might even wonder, rightly so, why we continue to follow and subject ourselves to panic attacks and heartbreak? I've been a Cubs fan for 12 years and I still haven't figured it out. But maybe the following words from my fellow Cubs buddies might help:

Deck: "As a Cubs fan, we are doomed to believe."

Rich: "We are not supposed to believe in curses, but you have to wonder if the pressure of being the team that breaks through is too much."

Scottie: "I think that's why we might be more tortured than most fans. Even the defeatists have that hope. Most fans would have figured out something else by now."

Ryan: "You gotta BELIEVE!"

Edgar: "The life of a Cub fan... no matter how upset/mad we are or how some of us feel like it's over, deep inside, we still have that die-hard faith."

Jen Walker: "Can someone let me know why I torture myself?"

When we lost game 2, many of my friends took a shot of something strong and went to bed (although they all woke up with something fierce), but I had to make it through the rest of the day. I was almost in tears of frustration and sadness, and I was numb and dumbfounded. I refused to answer IMs and it was an excruciating 48 hours until the final game in L.A. which I couldn't watch, since I was at the very successful launch of The Lens Men Eye Care-a-Van. (At least I had something going for me.) I turned off the Blackberry so I wouldn't know how the game turned out until I could get home and watch it in its entirety. After the Dodgers scored two in the bottom of the first inning off Rich Harden and his 1.77 regular season E.R.A., I probably should've done what Joelle did -- turn off the T.V. and go to bed, and wonder if she would wake up either ecstatic or depressed. I was back to my Cubbie optimistic self, thinking that with Harden and Ted Lilly pitching games 3 and 4, we would have a great shot in winning two and bringing the N.L.D.S. home.

Now, I will return to rooting for the Dodgers even as my fellow fans and I look for everything possible to mend the broken hearts. Beer, whiskey, duct tape, elephant glue, Band-Aid, rubber band, angioplasty, stitches, whatever. It won't be easy and it's a long winter ahead.