Annual Wrigley ritual appears headed for extra innings
The last home game of the baseball season at Wrigley Field is a Cub fan's holy day of obligation. We members of the faithful flock make the annual pilgrimage to our baseball shrine to celebrate the season.
In the heartbreak summer of 1969, that meant watching the Cubs, behind homers by Ernie Banks and Ron Santo, record a consolation 5-2 victory over the New York Mets, who had already clinched the division and crushed our dreams. Beating the Mets that day had all the joy of catching the garter at the wedding of the man marrying your one true love.
For many of my years as a Cubs fan, those last games of the season were meaningless contests in nearly empty Wrigley Field. Fans managed to add drama only by cheering for players to reach personal milestones.
In 1977's final 5-2 home loss to Philadelphia, Steve Ontiveros and Larry Biittner went a combined 1 for 8, causing them to each fall just short of hitting .300 for the season. In 1983's final 13-6 home loss to those Phillies, Keith Moreland went 2 for 4 on his way to a .302 season average. In 1987, we watched Andre Dawson homer in a 7-3 win over the Cardinals to wrap up his MVP year.
But it was the magical season of 1984 that changed the final home game ritual forever. The game was a snappy (1:58) prelude to a communal coronation and love fest. The Cubs rallied for two runs off Bruce Sutter in the 9th inning to pull out a 2-1 victory and start the postseason party. With fans waving their rolled-up Ryne Sandberg posters, the team came out for a walk around the park and wave to adoring fans. My mom caught a foul ball. My dad really thought that was going to be the year.
Dad (whose last meaningful words to me were about the fate of Cubs first-baseman Hee Seop Choi) died at age 87 in 2003 -- when we thought the Cubs would win it all in his memory. Just like we thought the 1984 death of Steve Goodman (the songwriter who penned "Go, Cubs, Go" and "A Dying Cubs Fan's Last Request") was an omen; or Harry Caray's death in 1998 meant he would control the Cubs postseason from the afterlife.
But Sunday's regular season finale had a different feeling. My wife, my 80-year-old mom and my youngest son, 8, couldn't even hear each other's cheers over the roar of the crowd.
The feeling is different. These Cubs don't seem like lovable losers on a quixotic quest. Bartman disappeared from Wrigley long before the vast majority of these Cubs players showed up. Manager Lou Piniella doesn't appear to be caught up in anything aside from winning baseball games.
Even the fans are paying attention. They booed Gov. Rod Blagojevich's first pitch, and cheered the Atlanta Braves. In one of the strangest things I've seen in my four decades at Wrigley, Cubs fans en masse performed the Braves' chant and repugnant "Tomahawk Chop" after Wrigley's old manual scoreboard posted a 4-spot for Atlanta, signaling defeat for the Milwaukee Brewers, the Cubs' closest rival for the division championship.
"I really think this will be the year the Cubs will win the World Series," proclaims my 8-year-old, who isn't old enough to remember hearing the rest of his Cubs fan brethren repeat the mantra in years past.
I think he's right.
It looks very much like Sunday's home finale won't be the last Cubs game at Wrigley Field this year. The last home game could be Monday, Oct. 29. But like all veteran Cubs fans, I think the final game will come earlier -- with the Cubs sweeping all four games of the World Series to wrap things up at Wrigley by Oct. 28. I have one ticket for that game.
"Can I go to a Cubs World Series game in Wrigley Field?" my son pleads.
Well, maybe next time.