As September winds down and we rapidly approach October and playoff baseball, I notice my utter indifference as standings and teams fly across the ESPN bottom line. It might as well be a stock ticker for all I care. Meanwhile, my friends from Michigan watch anxiously, checking the Royals scores, aching for the day that the Tigers finally clinch and they can celebrate or whatever happens when a baseball team does something good.
To be honest, I’m jealous. Baseball season used to be my thing, especially September baseball. There’s nothing more exciting than that final chase. Seeing how my team is doing, cursing at teams that lose to my rival like they personally wronged me. There’s nothing like it.
I haven’t had that feeling in what seems like forever. The Cubs have been so bad for so long I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to have that final chase. I wish I could care about every pitch. I wish an Anthony Rizzo walk-off home run was more than just a cool thing to see. I wish I could hate the Cardinals because they were going to take a playoff spot from my team and not just because they’re obnoxiously self-righteous and better at building a baseball team than the Cubs. Ultimately I just want baseball to be fun again.
But right now it isn’t. I understand that there’s a process and there have been signs of life from the prospects that the Cubs have developed but I’m growing weary. I feel like I’m falling out of love with my wife of 21 years. We have so much history and so many good memories. We’re even starting to make some home renovations that will make our home feel more welcoming. But I just don’t know how much longer I can stay in this.
But, as I’ve said before, I’m not actually going anywhere. It doesn’t make any sense, but I keep coming back because God forbid I miss the championship. Because once (if?) the Cubs finally win that World Series, the month long party that will overtake the city of Chicago will be completely and totally worth it. I hope.