u/SpaceBoundandDown

My dad passed away on Wednesday. It was a long time coming, he had been dealing with a lot of health issues, but it still stings. I'm just glad he's at peace finally. But, I'm also thankful for the Cubs and what they meant to him and to me. I've had so many emotions the last few days and this was the only way I could make any sense of them.

My dad was a lifelong Cubs fan despite growing up on the south side and most of the family being Sox fans. We briefly lived in Chicagoland when I was a kid, but I didn't grow up there. Life took us elsewhere. But he taught me everything he knew about baseball and especially the Cubs. Stories about Ernie, Ron, Billy, and Ryno. The good old days with Jack Brickhouse and Harry Caray on the mic. The billy goat, the black cat, the league robbing of us of home field advantage in 84 because we played ball as God intended- without lights. All of it. For a while, I reliably knew only 2 addresses: my own house and 1060 West Addison.

I only ever got to go to one MLB game with him, and that was ironically at Comiskey. Once we left Illinois, we only had a minor league team nearby, which we went to see dozens of times, but it wasn't the same. We'd go back to Chicago to visit family a lot, my grandmother even took me to a game at Wrigley once, but the timing never worked out for us to go with dad. Despite all of that, we always had access to WGN. So many summer days spent in front of the TV with Chip and Steve, then Len and Bob, making my own memories and adding to the generational heartache. Sammy Sosa, Kerry Wood, Derrek Lee, and Big Z. The corked bat, Bartman, Barrett decking Pierzynski, Maddux's return to the north side, and so much more.

Then 2016 rolled around, life got in the way again. I was across the country and couldn't make it home for Game 7. So I spent that evening at bar owned by a fellow Wrigleyvillian, surrounded by a lot of displaced Cubs fans far from home. It was electric, we were likely breaking the fire code with how crowded it was, but I've been chasing that high ever since. I was hugging complete strangers, my ears were ringing for the next 24 hours, and my voice didn't fully recover for a week. It felt like home. Me and my dad were texting and calling each other all night, but I wish I could have been there to see the look on his face when that last out hit Rizzo's glove. He bought us both jerseys with the World Series patch on it that Christmas to celebrate.

These last few days I spent at the hospital were so tiring, but it gave me some time to reminisce. I found some old games and clips online and we watched them together one more time. He wasn't awake, but I know that he could hear me. I turned up the volume and put on that World Series jersey. We watched Kerry Wood's 20 strikeout game, Zambrano's no hitter, and Game 7. The hospital TV had TBS, so we even got to see the game against the Braves on Tuesday night. I didn't even realize it was the anniversary of Ernie's 500th homer until they showed the clip on the broadcast. I've seen that clip a dozen times, but this one was different. I about lost it. I wasn't alive when that happened, but dad was and watched that game live on TV.

There's so many more thoughts floating around in my head that I still can't put into words right now, but I'm just grateful. Grateful for my dad and all the time we spent together. Grateful for everything he ever taught me about baseball, even if I was a lousy hitter and couldn't ever turn a double play to save my life. But I'm especially grateful for the Cubs. All the heartbreak and frustration, all the fun, all of the hours spent in front of a TV, and all the memories that come with being a fan of this emotional roller coaster of a team. I got to share it with my dad. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I love you dad. It's a great day for a ball game. Grab me a beer and some peanuts and save me a seat.