On the End of A Chicago Cubs Season
It wasn't so long ago that to be a Chicago Cubs fan was to suffer greatly. Fans will still act as if that same suffering continues as they bemoan how cheap and stupid and worthless the Cubs are, but there was, for so many years, a unique cruelty in rooting for the Northsiders --a cruelty that evidently even many Cubs fans have forgotten in the wake of the 2016 World Series.
Tonight, the Cubs lost to the Milwaukee Brewers in the deciding Game 5 of the National League Division Series. Strange as it is, the Brewers are the team with the losing narrative these days. They are the ones for whom deep playoff success has become elusive. And though I'm sure Milwaukee fans are rightfully basking in their victory tonight, I imagine a loss to the Dodgers in the NLCS would bring all of those negative feelings back.
The Brewers are --albeit in a smaller number of years-- where the Cubs were 10 years ago: Nothing short of a World Series will stop the pain. A loss in the 2016 World Series for the Cubs wouldn't have been a great season; it would have been framed as another chapter of them not getting it done when the chips were down. Somehow, winning the pennant would have added to the angst, rather than act as a salve. If the Brewers fail to beat the Dodgers next week, it will feel the same. And I will understand.
The Brewers were the best team in baseball this year. It's true that I didn't understand it; it's true that I doubted them at every turn; it's true that I rolled my eyes at their 14-game winning streak because no team is that good. Yet, my cap is tipped in their direction tonight. They were better. They were better all season. They were better in this series. And they were better tonight.
I am tempted to think about what could have been, but instead am faced with larger existential thoughts as another baseball season closes up shop:
How many more of these playoff runs do I have to enjoy in my lifetime? 20? 37? 6? 11? 0? The Cubs don't play baseball for six months. Where will my life be in six months? Will Kyle Tucker be in right field? Will there be a new arm atop the rotation? Will Pete Crow-Armstrong still be swinging at pick-off throws to first base? As baseball always allows, the mystical and the practical sit peacefully side by side one another. It's why I love this game.
While disappointment hangs pungently in the air tonight, there is a sense of relief that accompanies the losing. Any major fan of a sports team will concur that to root for any team is exhausting. In a season that has seen the Cubs play 170 baseball games, this singular loss tonight feels cathartic --not to lose, but to be free of the demand to desire winning, to stress out, to connect your emotional, psychological, and physical health to an entity that makes absolutely no sense to connect to.
I, as all Cubs fans, stood at the ready to march into the maelstrom of the National League Championship Series with our fandom at a fever pitch, to stress out for another week and a half, to live and die over what 25 strangers do and don't do in a game. But now that we don't have to, you can bet I'm playing that consolation prize card. I'd rather be stressing, but now that I don't have to, I will enjoy the extra breath as I ponder how the Cubs might be even better next season.
Losing feels different post-2016. It isn't that the urgency is gone, or that you're suddenly okay with losing, but the losing no longer says anything beyond "you weren't good enough this year." There is freedom in that. Losing in 2025 no longer carries the weight of losing in 1969, or 1984, or 2003. I bask in a Wild Card series win, in a deeply competitive Division Series, as I look at a team that, on paper, seemed to reach up to right about where they belonged. You always hope for magic to push you further, but you can't be shocked when it doesn't.
Cheers, Milwaukee. Enjoy the magic. It doesn't last forever.