Longtime fans might wonder, though, whether something was lost with that long-awaited win.
On my first trip to Wrigley Field, at 5 years old, we sat in the bleachers and watched Doc Gooden and the Mets smoke the Cubs. The Cubbies lost big time; I was addicted.
Decades of Cubs futility later, I would spend eight gloriously drunken years living within a heaved baseball’s distance from the park. I met my wife in Wrigleyville and, as an editor and sports blogger, watched firsthand the happiness and heartbreak the team could inspire.
There are many other fans’ poignant stories. They include the guy who listened to Game 7 on the radio from his father’s grave, fulfilling a promise; countless tributes to family members who lived amazing lives without ever witnessing what happened Wednesday; and Harry Caray, the iconic voice of the Cubs.
Baseball’s magic makes you believe in the afterlife, because it’s impossible to consider that all this happened without Harry watching.
The glory of this week can’t be overstated, but what will become of this beloved franchise now that it’s tasted victory?
A soft spot for the underdogs