BPM is probably back down under 100 now.

I’m not a huge fan of baseball, but I’m a fan of Chicago and of my family’s history there, and so I’m a fan of the Cubs. Too many warm-and-fuzzies are rushing in to form coherent thought, so let me just ramble.

I think of:

…the taunting promise of last year’s 90-something-win team.
…watching the White Sox win and thinking the Cubs were due.
…watching the Red Sox win and thinking the Cubs were due.
…Bartman and watching the Cubs lose to the Marlins.
…Harry Caray passing away.
…watching Sosa and McGwire in the late 90s.
…Back to the Future, and Ferris Bueller, and Jake Elwood’s fake address: 1060 West Addison. “Somebody with a record this bad is bound to make a mistake,” or some such.
…watching the Cubs lose to the Giants.
…watching the Cubs lose to the Padres.
…my mom, who lived close enough to Wrigley to hear the loudspeakers.
…learning about the billy goat and the black cat.
…my mom’s mom, who bought us some truck-stop-quality Cubs and Sox caps from BK or McDonald’s when we were little.
…my dad’s mom, who never saw them win once in her 95 years.
…my dad’s dad, who saw Babe Ruth point his home run in ’32, and saw the Cubs win the Series twice when he was a boy, and then never again.

And I get a little misty because I just can’t believe they won. They didn’t do what the Cubs always do, which is fail, no matter how good their record is in May or June. They didn’t choke. They actually won.

And next time they win, even if it’s not for another hundred years, I’ll think of this incredible series and tonight’s incredible game. My God.