Curse Broken

Dexter Fowler’s first at bat on Oct. 25 was less eventful than Wednesday night’s. No home run, not even a hit. As the first person in a generation to play a World Series game in a Cubs uniform, Fowler’s at bat would become an unremarkable bit of trivia — well, unremarkable save for the fact that Fowler, a black American, would not have been permitted to play in the last Cubs’ World Series appearance.
Yes, baseball was still segregated in 1945. And if that feels like a long time ago, consider this: women were not allowed to vote the last time the Cubs actually won a championship — 1908. As if to foretell the passage of the 19th amendment, Mother’s Day was celebrated for the first time that year. Back then, our flag only had 46 stars on it. Brand new Model T Fords — just invented — sold for a whopping $850.

Baseball was equally different. Before there was Bill Murray singing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” in his best Daffy Duck voice, there was Billy Murray and the Haydn Quartet debuting the soon-to-be classic as a 1908 hit vaudeville song. On the way to the playoffs that year, Cubs pitcher Ed Reuhlbach not only pitched both games of a doubleheader in one day but threw complete game shutouts in each of them, something never done before or since. You could argue that even that last Cubs championship, over a century ago, was an accident: they only reached the playoffs after winning a game thanks to a baserunning error by Fred “Bonehead” Merkle.

Whatever role any “curse” may or may not have played, most Cubs success has tended to feel like an accident. Why have people stuck with the Cubs for so long? Why tie yourself to a perennial loser? “I don’t want to make this too theological,” senior Jimmy Larkin said, “but … fandom with the Chicago Cubs is unconditional.” Before this week, they had never met his ultimate expectations. Yet they were an irreplaceable part of his family — from driving past Wrigley Field on his way to school each day, to going to games with his grandfather for his birthday. Before Game Seven, he told me “if it doesn’t even happen this year, I’m still gonna love the team.”
Perhaps in our winning-obsessed cultural moment, the Cubs are a final vestige of a purer existence. One that values community more than superiority. Senior Jimmy Larkin’s grandfather was cheering them on when they lost the 1945 World Series. Larkin’s father watched in horror as they blew a huge division lead in 1969. Now, all three generations together shared a season that they each have been waiting for.
“Sports have a really cool effect on people,” said senior Madeline Bond. “They can bring together groups of people who otherwise would have no common ground.” In the midst of one of modern history’s most divisive election seasons, common ground in America has seemed like a rare commodity.
Junior Jake Fernandes, who — like Bond — attended Game Four at Wrigley Field, said “It felt like everyone was watching their brothers or sons play in the World Series.” Without regard for politics, race, religion or creed, “everyone around you was your friend.” Anyone who went out to celebrate Wednesday night might be familiar with the feeling.