“The Cubs are babies, and the Bears are their mamas,” I told my dad in a snarky, whiny kind of voice. I was a child giving her father a hard time, but he did not respond, and he did not get angry. He knew that I was just a child, and he was well used to being given a hard time about his chosen teams. As years went by, I slowly began to understand his love affair with Chicago teams. Chicago fans are the most loving, hopeful, optimistic fans in the world. I know that is just my opinion, but I believe it.
For years, the Bears had three variations of one play. Payton right, Payton left, Payton up the middle. I learned at a very young age that “tutta la via” means “all the way” in Italian because that is what my dad would shout at the TV every week. I cannot even begin to describe our excitement when the Bears, including our beloved Walter Payton, won the Super Bowl in 1986. That was such a fun team to watch. My dad and my uncles felt vindicated in their dedication to the Chicago Bears, or as we Chicagoans are imitated as saying, “Da Bears.” It is hard to believe that that triumph was thirty years ago.
Cub fans are a level above fans of the White Sox or the Bears. We have all heard the statistics. We know that until this year, it has been decades since the Cubs won a pennant, and it has literally been over a century since they won a World Series. Growing up in the Chicago area, we were constantly reminded of this fact. There were years when the Cubs were not a bad team, but something would always stop them from winning. The thing is, though, that while it hurts Cub fans to see them lose, it never breaks them. It does not make them love their team any less. There is no such thing as a “fair weather” Cub fan because there have been only a handful of seasons when the “weather has been fair.” Win or lose, we love our Cubs—unconditionally. And they know this. One might think that this would make the players not care about practice because they know the fans will show up at Wrigley Field regardless of how they play. I do not think this is the case, though. I think that the players over the years have felt that love, and it has made them want to play their absolute best. Many times their best was not good enough to win, but Cub fans don’t go to Wrigley expecting to watch the Cubs win. They go for the experience of being at one of the oldest ball parks left in use. They go for the comraderie of being with a crowd of people who care the way they do. They look at each other year after year and say, “Maybe next year.” Hope springs eternal in the hearts of Cub fans.
My dad had a stroke in 2001, and he passed away in 2008, but we were lucky because he knew us and loved us till his last day. It was the same for his Cubs. He enjoyed watching them even after his stroke. That is why this year is bittersweet for my family. I cried when the Cubs won the pennant because all I could think of was my dad—that man I had made fun of so many years before. As I write this, the Chicago Cubs and the Cleveland Indians are preparing for game six of the World Series, and I believe that after the first pitch, somewhere in the background of the noise from the crowd, my dad will be up in Heaven shouting “tutta la via” to any Cub player who hits the ball. Maybe this year is the year. Maybe not. But my family in Heaven and on Earth are pulling for them and praying for them. If it is not our year, at least we have once again been able to practice unconditional love.