Monday, April 24, 2017

The Cubs: A coda

Early April found me back in Chicago. I have embraced the World Series win, but have found it difficult to do my “baseball homework” for the upcoming season. Andrew assures me that the Cubs have gotten even better. I was discussing with Jeff, who grew up in North Carolina, how we became fans of out-of-town sports team. Cable television in the 1980s offered a different world, one that was more local and regional. On his package were WOR-TV and Madison Square Gardens Network, which carried New York Rangers games. I told him about having WGN-TV when I was in high school and being able to see Jack Brickhouse and Harry Caray every day after school. It was a good discussion of East Coast (New York) versus Midwest (Chicago) loyalties.


I made the pilgrimage to Wrigleyville. With all the signage, including the iconic red sign at the entrance to Wrigley Field, pronouncing the Cubs as World Series Champions, I sought a different visual affirmation. My first stop after getting off the L was 3633 North Sheffield, home of a simply blue sign with white letters. There is no explanation, simply EAMUS CATULI on the left side of the building; and AC followed by a series of numbers on the right. For more than two decades, obvious to television cameras along the right field wall, it has kept a running track of the futility of the Cubs in the playoffs. Latin for Let’s Go Cubs and then Anno Catuli (Year of the Cubs) followed by the number of years since a division win, a league pennant win, and a World Series win. The number had grown to great proportion AC 00 71 108. I left the Addison stop walking toward Wrigley and made the right turn down Sheffield, just beyond the recently reconstructed and enlarged right field bleacher, where Andre Dawson and Sammy Sosa, played was the building in question. I looked for the familiar sign and regarded the new numbers. There was a sense of closure and satisfaction as I absorbed the words: Eamus Catuli 00 00 00. Indeed, the Cubs had won the World Series, and the Sisyphean task of a new baseball season was about to begin. 

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