Tuesday, August 01, 2006

More than a game, more than a team, more than a player

I am bereft. I am desolate. I am all kinds of other synonyms for sad that I'm too sad to think of right now. Yes, all because of The Trade. Greg Maddux to the Dodgers.

I feel bad about Todd Walker, too, because he was hot. But Greg Maddux is one of the best pitchers to ever pick up a baseball. It was a privilege to have him here … twice. I looked forward to his every start. I was actually there, within the Friendly Confines, that rainy night last summer when he got his 3000th strikeout. Losing him hurts like hell.

Don't say it's "just a game." It's so much more than that. It's the Cubs. And the Cubs are the only thing that brought my dysfunctional family together. As an adult I have converted to another religion and certainly vote differently than my relatives. But I'm still and always and forever a Cub fan. It feels like the only thing that links us.

My mother's mom was a serious fan who preferred the radio broadcasts to watching TV because she hated the Cubs' announcer, Jack Brickhouse (or "Jack Brickhead," as she called him). Her son, my uncle, is battling Parkinson's disease and his body fails a bit more every day. Yet one of the things that still makes him happy is Vineline, and passing the back issues along to me. My dad watched every game he could and yelled at the set when they lost (which has been often). I'm a fan in the mold of my dad's parents. I learned from them that it's not whether you win or lose, it's loyalty to your guys. So what if we didn't win? Did a Cub hit a homer or make a terrific catch? Was the sun bright and the beer cold? Then it was a good game. Winning is wonderful, but not mandatory. My grandmother loved her team so much she wore a Cubs jacket when she gardened. Her all-time favorite Cub was Ryne Sandberg. I just knew she was happy, watching from Heaven on the day he was inducted into the Hall of Fame, and whenever I catch a glimpse of the #23 pennant waving above Wrigley Field, I think of her and smile.

Ernie Banks. Ron Santo. Glenn Beckert. Don Kessinger. Billy Williams. Mark (sigh) Grace. And now Greg Maddux. I have loved them all. I have said farewell to them all. God, but this one really hurts.

In his exit interview, the ever-classy future Hall of Famer said that part of him would always be a Cub. Amen. Once my guy, always my guy.