Now That The Cubs Won, Is Baseball Over?
Are you a baseball fan?
It’s hard not to be, but I’m from Chicago, so I’m especially excited about the Cubbies clinching a come-from-behind World Series win, after 108 years.
But let’s be honest.
Before the Cubs were on the cusp of winning the Holy Grail of baseball, some games themselves felt like they lasted 108 years.
Every time my husband said, “Let’s go to a baseball game,” I cringed, thinking, “have they finished the last one yet?”
I had to clear the decks, so to speak for an unlimited block of time, shove an inordinate amount of “Power Bars” in my pocket, and pack a suitcase with wears for weeks and for every possible season – if you’ve ever been to Chicago, you know the weather can change on a dime.
When it comes to ending a baseball game, why is there no set time?
Why isn’t there an extra-inning rule, similar to other overtime rules in other sports?
If baseball goes into a tenth inning and no one scores, it should be a tie, or, at the very least, a sudden-death-run-off – a good, ol’ fashioned relay race!
Baseball fans would love it; it’s the only sport that keeps track of who’s ahead by the number of times you run home safely.
So line ’em up – both teams, single file, top of the order – one team behind first, the other behind third, and Theo Epstein “Barr” can yell: “On your mark, get set, GO!”
Whoever runs across home plate first and more often, gets the most points and wins!
If it’s a tie at home – and by tie I mean collision, it doesn’t go to the runner because they’re both running, in which case they can beat the crap out of each other, and the last guy standing wins.
If neither can stand, whoever has more teeth wins, and so on.
It’s a very simple process of elimination – literally, and it shouldn’t take more than fifteen, twenty minutes tops in a tenth inning.
The point is, the game ends at a reasonable time.
And no crying about it either!
There’s no crying in baseball!
God, baseball players are so damn delicate.
I guess that’s why they wear caps instead of helmets, and why teams used to be identified by the color of their stockings.
(The Cubs were once called the White Stockings, but when the White Sox entered the American League, there was one stipulation – they couldn’t use the city’s name, so they became the White Stockings – it was probably shortened to White Sox by some lazy reporter.)
The point is, the Cubs rule!
But the delicate nature of baseball players, explains why they run into the dugout when it rains.
Please. If there’s no crying in baseball, there shouldn’t be any whining either!
The boys need to strap on a pair of rubber cleats and play ball, rain or shine.
You don’t see football players or rugby players taking cover at the first sign of inclement weather, do you?
Heck, the Bears’ll grind it out in a blizzard with a hurricane on the horizon, and they suck, but a few raindrops, and baseball tarps around the world are unfurled faster than you can say, “I ain’t ‘fraid a-no goat.”
And what about the billy goat?
I never understood why the billy goat, an animal known to be independent and intelligent ended up being the scapegoat for the Cubs’ incredibly long losing streak.
Talk about a sacrificial lamb; the billy goat got screwed.
But sticking by your team when they stink, is the real sacrifice, and fans are willing to sacrifice because baseball brings people together.
From fair balls, foul balls, double plays and strikes, hotdogs, home runs, lemonades on ice, Javier Baez, billy goats and booze, extra innings suck if you think you’re gonna lose.
But baseball ushers in hope and optimism every spring season.
No matter what color stockings our teams wear, opening day is a new day for everyone’s team to be contender. It makes us all feel equal for just a little while.
And, it makes baseball a timeless and favorite past time because it gives all of us something to root for together.
Until opening day…
…Cheers to the Chicago Cubs – the greatest team in baseball, and cheers to finding humor in our day.
Cubbies, Niece Carly and Baby Mark
Fun article – but…..I’m sorry. The Red Socks are the best ever!
WHAT!? The Red Stockings? I don’t think so, although they do have a great ball park! 🙂
Understand your response to an invitation completely. However, here’s a glimpse of a Chicagoan’ psyche upon receipt of such an invitation: when you’re single it’s a Cubs game all the way (EL train, bleachers, new “friends”, excessive alcohol consumption, stay to the end and bars afterward till closing time); when you’re married it’s a White Sox game for sure (car w/ car seat, discount nose bleed for kids — they won’t realize, right?, right field kids zone, OD on soda and snacks, leave in the 7th, get home in pajamas by 9)….
So true! And actually your retelling it makes me realize, it was definitely more fun to experience a little slice of Americana with the kids, especially because they passed out on the way home! Thanks so much for reading and commenting here
Boy do I ever sympathize with your reaction to an invitation to go to a baseball game. I have been to one baseball game in my life: eighth grade; a treat for the altar boys. I remember nothing of the game because nothing happened. The players seemed as bored as I. They did a lot of spitting and chewing. Or chewing and then spitting. Sometimes they spit in their hands, sometimes at the umpire. Spit, that is my major association with baseball. Heresy I know. On the way home I thought an investigation into paganism might be called for.
I admit to being pleased when the Cubs won the series. It meant I would no longer have to hear about that damned goat.
Good topic Mo.
Kind of amazing that since you went to that game in eight grade, not much has changed – while I was watching the World Series last month, I was mesmerized by how much time they all spent chewing and spitting, spitting and chewing!!!! Glad you enjoyed!
Good Grief! I remember when I first started working and took my 2 weeks vacation in 1/2 days to attend the Cubs games. Nothing was better than going to a Cubs/St. Louis game and arguing with their fans in the ballpark. We’d all end up at Murphy’s in a better mood after the booze and finish the night there on better terms or in the dunk tank. We all loved baseball, the Cubs and losing was forgotten until next year.
I probably saw you at Sluggers! Ha! What a great memory!!!!!