Family.  That’s what a Cubs World Series title means to me.  The first Cubs game that I attended and remember was in 1985.  A tall, blonde haired, five-year old stood along the brick wall separating the grandstands from the playing field.  My mom, Colleen, decided to add red coloring to my blonde hair to replicate the same red hair flowing from the mane of Jody Davis.   Davis will always be my favorite Cubs player.  I loved lucky number 7, Davis’s number and his spot in the batting order.  Davis was also tall and lanky, which is my same body type.  And I always thought catching was cool.  It also helped that Davis spotted me and did give me his autograph.

That was only one memory.  Since that wonderful day in 1985, I would attend hundreds of Cubs games at the shrine on the corner of Addison and Clark.  Living in Chicago’s south suburbs, my mom and stepdad took me to one game each month.  Both big Cubs fans, they met at Wrigley Field and married months later.  Even after we moved to central Illinois in 1988, we continued to see the Cubs monthly.  Two siblings later, we were a family of five suffering from the disease of Cubs fandom.

Our Cubs trips, like many, involved arriving early for batting practice.  We stayed for all nine innings (unless Grandpa was driving).  And we hung out for next to the player’s parking lot for post-game autographs.  The parking lot would have comfortably fit 12 cars; it usually fit 25-30.  The peanut gallery would provide some comedic gems – “Hey Sanderson, can you sign this or will you throw out your arm?”  Each game was usually finished off by heading out on Lake Shore Drive, turning off at North and Wells for a postgame meal at Ed Debevic’s.  Burgers, fries, and waitstaff rudeness – what more do you want?

As I get older the games I remember are few and far between.  I do remember the raucous environment of a Cubs-Giants nationally televised night game in ‘89.  Nothing like relief pitcher Les Lancaster driving in a few runs in a Cubs win.  We also splurged for tickets to Ryne Sandberg’s final home game, Kerry Wood’s first home start, and sat 20 rows behind home plate to watch a Sammy Sosa three homer game against the Phillies.  Oh, I almost forgot convincing a few Catholic school teachers that the 6^th grade field trip should include a game at 1060 West Addison Street.

Sadly, my stepdad passed away in 2001.  He is one of the many that would never see a Cubs World Series winner.  It rocked my world.  I miss him every day.  It’s been said that we all grieve differently.  I spent my summer drinking and numbing the pain.  Luckily, I had the Cubs.  It was the one promising campaign of the Don Baylor era.  It united my family and helped us heal.

In our first Cubs game after his passing, we sat in section 420.  It was a warm summer day.  Our seats were in the upper deck, high above home plate and below the press box.  It was also prime foul ball territory.  I’ll always remember one of the first foul balls hit in our direction.  A high pop fly, the ball continued carrying towards our seat.  My then 8-year old brother, David, had his Wilson mitt out, and all four of us leaned over to catch the ball.  The ball landed on the seat in front of my brother, then bounced forward, deflecting off of David’s seat, and coming to a stop right underneath it.  David grabbed it.  At 8 years old, he was the first in the family to catch a live ball at Wrigley Field.

2003 was another life changing year.  After my first April Cubs game, I drove around the north side trying to get back to my new apartment in suburbia.  Driving west on Wrightwood, I never realized how many young people live in the neighborhood.  I saw families playing in the park and twenty-somethings strolling into the neighborhood tavern.  In that moment, I knew I had to move to Wrigleyville.

Moving to Wrigleyville was a 3-year process, but eventually I grew a pair and took the plunge.  The day after I moved into my apartment, I strolled over to the final game of the 2006 season.  I met Dusty Baker on the street.  I think we all knew it was his last game.  It was the fans way of saying goodbye.  Nobody ever wants to see another person get fired, but I was glad the Cubs were heading in a different direction.

I took David to his first opening day in 2007.  It was the coolest thing in the world to live four blocks from Wrigley Field.  To be around the atmosphere, day in and day out.  Even if I couldn’t get the little guy into a bar, it was still fun to be a part of the madness.

As I grew older, family began to mean friends too.  Scott and I danced awkwardly on tables at the old Houndstooth when divisions were won.  Mike and I closed down Goose Island after subsequent Cubs failures.  John and I sat in the bleachers and chanted “Green Bay sucks!” during a Sunday night Cubs-Sox game.  John being a Sox fan, it was the only thing we could agree on.

My life changed forever in two very different ways in the 2010 season.  First, thanks to 2003 NLCS, I signed myself up for the Cubs season ticket waiting list.  We will not discuss the details of that series.  At least I channeled the energy from the disappointment and used it productively.  Little did I know on a frigid December afternoon I would get the call from the Cubs:  Would you like to buy season tickets?  Of course, I did.  2 tickets in the bleachers?  Sign me up.

Through those tickets, destiny was calling.  Her name was Liz.  We met on Opening Day 2010, the very first game of my season ticket package.  70 and sunny, the Cubs were up 9-1 in the 5^th.  While Liz’s friend Carrie mingled with the boys, her friend Brian gave my props for my Jody Davis jersey.  This eventually led to a conversation with Liz.  Her hair was flowing in the breeze, while she wore a blue Cubs shirt, a reddish jacket, and her favorite BluBlockers.  I had no game and had no idea how to ask her out.  The one and only thing I could think of was using my Cubs tickets.  She said yes and gave me her number.  Four and a half years later, she said, “I do.”  And another two years later, she’s bearing our child.

You know how the rest of the story plays out.  Sitting a dozen rows up in section 140, Liz made it to two World Series games with me.  David was with me to see the Miguel Montero grand slam from game 1.  My sister, Meghan, and I celebrated the Cubs first pennant in 71 years.  My mom made it up for game 5 of the World Series, and we watched the comeback game of the series.  Two games and three days later, the Cubs were champs.  We rejoiced in the streets.  We celebrated at the parade.  We made daily trips to Wrigley just to soak it all in.  A family, old and new, has seen it all.  We no longer wait with anxiety, but with great anticipation for the next Cubs World Series Championship.