A Story

This summer I have had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with an older gentleman, a man who just turned 74 years old and who has been a Cub fan for over sixty years. He attends many home games as a long-time season ticket holder, and recently told me a bittersweet story about how he almost (yes, almost) got in to game six of the 1945 World Series.

Almost? Here, let him tell you in his own words:

I turned 12 years old on September 11, 1945 and had been a fan of the Cubs before I ever saw my first game, which was in either late August or early September of 1944. My family had just moved back to Chicago from Coal City, Illinois and my uncle took his son and me to a game. My mom and dad realized how much I loved to listen to the Cubs so they let me listen to as many games as possible on the radio, and in 1945 when they won the pennant I was so darned excited that my mother was worried that I would talk so much about how great the team was that people would be driven crazy listening to me.

Being excited was one thing, but I kept pestering my mom and dad about finding a way to get a ticket to go to one of the World Series games when they played in Chicago. I didn't quite understand the fact that 50 cents meant a lot more than we could afford for something as frivolous as a ball game when that amount of money could buy things needed more than just for fun.

The night before game six, I asked mom to let me use the money in my piggy bank to go. I had already counted the coins and had enough to buy a ticket and pay 4 cents each way on a street car to go to Wrigley Field. As you might guess, she said absolutely NO. I went to bed feeling very sorry for myself and made up my mind to go against her admonition. About 3:30 or 4 in the morning I got up, got dressed, made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, took all the coins from my bank and left the house to catch the Clark St. street car, from our home in Rogers Park. It took about 25 or 30 minutes to reach the ball park; in fact, the streetcar conductor asked me if I was old enough to be out at that hour and I told him I was going to help a cousin deliver morning newspapers. When I reached the park the bleacher ticket line started at the corner of Sheffield & Waveland (where the old bleacher box office was located), headed west to Clark, continued south to just about Addison and came back around down the other side of Clark back to Waveland, and about a quarter of a block east on Waveland where I got in line. When the box office opened somewhere around 10 or 10:30 I really believed I would get in without a problem. However, as time went on and the line moved very slowly I got worried about getting a ticket. Sure enough, when I finally reached the box office the man in front of me got the last one or two tickets to be sold.

I was totally heartbroken! I couldn't believe that this had happened. All I could do was to head back to Clark Street. I got on the first streetcar and cried like a baby the entire way home (a man on the streetcar was kind enough to ask me if I was hurt or sick). I was crying for two reasons: first, because I came so close to getting that ticket and second, because I was afraid of what my mother was going to say!

When I came in the front door mom took my sandwich bag from me without saying a word. She put it down by the radio in the dining room, turned the radio on, poured a glass of milk for me, and said, "When dad gets home, he wants to talk to you". Well, dad got home and the only thing he said was something to the effect that please remember to listen to mom or him when they say what to do or not to do -- and then said how sorry he was that I had been so disappointed by not being able to get into the game.

I believe the Cubs did win that day. [Al's note: his memory is right. The Cubs did win game six, in twelve innings; the last World Series game they won, and the only one they won in Chicago in 1945.]

Why am I telling you this story now? Because this gentleman has not been in the bleachers in, he tells me, nearly sixty years; after not making it on that World Series day in 1945, he was there once or twice later in the '40s, not since.

He's joining us out there tomorrow night. It's time. Go Cubs.

X
Log In Sign Up

forgot?
Log In Sign Up

Please choose a new SB Nation username and password

As part of the new SB Nation launch, prior users will need to choose a permanent username, along with a new password.

Your username will be used to login to SB Nation going forward.

I already have a Vox Media account!

Verify Vox Media account

Please login to your Vox Media account. This account will be linked to your previously existing Eater account.

Please choose a new SB Nation username and password

As part of the new SB Nation launch, prior MT authors will need to choose a new username and password.

Your username will be used to login to SB Nation going forward.

Forgot password?

We'll email you a reset link.

If you signed up using a 3rd party account like Facebook or Twitter, please login with it instead.

Forgot password?

Try another email?

Almost done,

By becoming a registered user, you are also agreeing to our Terms and confirming that you have read our Privacy Policy.

Join Bleed Cubbie Blue

You must be a member of Bleed Cubbie Blue to participate.

We have our own Community Guidelines at Bleed Cubbie Blue. You should read them.

Join Bleed Cubbie Blue

You must be a member of Bleed Cubbie Blue to participate.

We have our own Community Guidelines at Bleed Cubbie Blue. You should read them.

Spinner.vc97ec6e

Authenticating

Great!

Choose an available username to complete sign up.

In order to provide our users with a better overall experience, we ask for more information from Facebook when using it to login so that we can learn more about our audience and provide you with the best possible experience. We do not store specific user data and the sharing of it is not required to login with Facebook.

tracking_pixel_9351_tracker