Game Seven

Game Seven – November 2, 2016

Whenever I’ve watched a Game 7 of a championship series I always thought about fans of the team and how stressful it must be to live it. I never thought I would experience it as a Cub fan, but after trailing in the Series 3 games to 1 I craved it.
I had so much anxiety the night before that I had to take a Xanax to get to sleep and in my mind hold off a heart attack so I could witness history. History indeed.

I think I may be in the minority of fans who prefer the friendly confines of their home to watch a major sporting event and usually alone. On this night I wanted my family with me. However, the night started alone and when Dexter Fowler led off the game with a home run I was paralyzed. Before I let out a few neighbor scaring yelps I stood starting at Fowler twirling past first base and thought, Oh my God this is really going to happen.

Eventually Stacy and Luke joined me, Luke off and on until the latter stages. I needed him for levity in the bottom of the fifth when I lost it and hurled obscenities at the TV and across texts to Div. Home plate umpire Sam Holbrook called ball four on a pitch that was clearly a strike. One of the beauties of baseball, especially in the postseason, is that each pitch is critical and can change the entire complexion of the game. In my mind the unthinkable was triggered by the temporary paralysis of Holbrook’s right arm.
As Joe Maddon came out of the dugout to give Kyle Hendricks a premature yank I thought our 5-1 cozy lead was going to disappear faster than a Jägermeister shot at Dorothy’s kitchen table.

I know going in Maddon was set on Hendricks to Lester to Chapman. But Chapman was used up the night before to save a five run lead. A five run lead. It drove me insane in Game Six. How could he pitch in Game Seven on no rest and asking him to do something he’s never done before. And for what? To protect a 5-run lead in Game Six? He came into the game in the 8th inning with 2 outs and a runner on first. He needed to get the final 4 outs to win the World Series. Boy I sure hoped I was wrong, but I wasn’t.
Poor Stacy, who picked a bad night to stop drinking Coors Light, had to listen to me over and over and over. “Didn’t I tell you he shouldn’t have brought Chapman in last night.” “Look at him. Look at him. He’s shot. He’s got nuthin’ left.” “Didn’t I tell you he should have left Hendricks a little longer.”

It reminded me of the one-game playoff that Stacy and I attended in 1997. Rod Beck was the closer for the Cubs and had a great season, but by the end of the year Shooter was shot. He came in to save the game in 9th inning against the Giants and it looked like his arm was going to sail toward a frightened batter. It didn’t and the Cubs prevailed to make their first playoff appearance since 1989.
Chapman, to his credit, did everything he could to get through the game and preserve a 3-run lead. But it was asking too much and he couldn’t get it done. That’s when my anguish turned into numbness.

After Brandon Guyer doubled home Ramirez to shrivel the lead to 6-4, Rangi Davis lined a 2-run homer to left field. Game tied. Oh my God. We’re going to lose. Oh my God. The Indians have all the momentum. We’ll never be able to come back. Oh my God we’re going to lose.

These Cubs showed life and just maybe we could still pull this off. Somehow (stolen base and throwing error after getting on base on a fielder’s choice) Jason Heyward found himself on third base with one out. All we need is a fly ball or a wild pitch or a base hit. What we didn’t need is a 2 strike bunt attempt by Javy Baez. In the holy name of Jack Brickhouse who could have thought that was a good idea. Fowler grounded to short and we headed to the bottom of the ninth dejected, hopeless and praying that Chapman had a little something left.

He did and retired the bottom of their lineup in order. Now we needed some divine intervention. No bullpen. No momentum. No hope. Que God.

Here comes the rain and on goes the tarp. Folks, extra innings, game seven and we’re in a rain delay. Yo beer man, need a little help. The spirits of Banks and Santo, Brickhouse and Caray and hundreds before them gave our boys a chance to regroup to dig deep and maybe, just maybe we could still pull this off.

We knocked out their ace in Kluber. We knocked out their messiah in Miller and we just needed to get to their depleted bullpen before they got to ours.

After a 17 minute rain delay and a golden opportunity to regroup, the hardest working rehabber in the history of sports, Kyle Schwarber led off the 10th inning with a base hit. Alberto Almora comes into pinch run and makes one of the most unheralded, yet pivotal plays of the game. Bryant flies out to deep center on a ball that looked like it was going over Davis’ head, but instead of making the turn at second, Almora was already back to first and tagging up which set up the championship run in scoring position.
I turned to Stacy in a much calmer tone than 45 minutes earlier and said, “That was a huge play and may make the difference in this ballgame.”

Rizzo was intentionally walked and now our most consistent batter of the postseason, Ben Zobrist was at the plate. Zobrist sliced a double to the opposite field and Almora scored as the three us erupted in earsplitting joy. I think Cosmo was even clapping her paws as she hid under the table.

NLCS hero Montrero singled in Rizzo for that all important insurance run and we sure needed it.
Maybe this is really going to happen. Enter Carl Edwards Jr., who I refer to as Stick, who looks more like a tall jockey that’s wearing my pants than a fearless closer. He gets the first 2 batters out before walking Guyer, who is gifted second base. Davis, who shattered our dreams a couple innings earlier is the tying run at the plate. He stifles our happiness, but can’t kill our dream. His base hit drives in Guyer to make the score 8-7 and chases away Stick. It’s up to a late season and at the time unheralded pick up, Mike Montgomery.
Montgomery gets the pinch hitting Martinez to hit a slow roller to third base. Bryant scoops the ball up and all the while smiling throws a strike to Rizzo. The three of us erupt shaking the neighborhood into fears of an earthquake. We embrace, well up and embrace some more. Oh my God it happened the Chicago Cubs have won the World Series. My wife eloquently says, “What da shit they did it.” Martha’s smiling in heaven.

For those who wonder why it’s important to be a fan it’s indescribable. For those that are fanatics you get it, especially Cubs fans. For one moment it brings back all those wonderful memories of running home from school to catch the last innings of a Wednesday afternoon game on WGN. For waiting for the end of Bozo’s Circus to watch the Leadoff Man. For going to games at Wrigley Field with your family and playing catch in the back yard with your dad. For laughing on the phone as your grandma teaches you a new cuss words after a Cubs loss. For sharing the now with you wife and son and a feeling of joy that leaves you numb. On this night and in this moment it all comes full circle. For you are a Cubs fan and it does mean something. On this night it meant everything. The Chicago Cubs are World Champions!