I almost cried when DLee hit the game tying run in

Only after the Sox finally won the World Series could I go back and watch the Buckner game. Same with the one-game playoff in 1978.

I have never watched it. Nor will I.

I saw enough of it five years ago.

The weather was perfect. Fantastic sunset. There was a goat and a band playing outside the main entrance under the marquee.

When I went to pick up our four tickets at Will Call, I was shaking when they handed them to me. I half expected someone to run up and snatch them out of my hand. Tickets were going for thousands online.

We got settled in our seats in the second row of the upper deck by the 3rd base camera well. GREAT SEATS! What I most wanted to see at the end of the night was the Eamus Catuli sign change over to 00 in the middle run of numbers.

For the first time in recent memory at a Cubs game, I ate and drank NOTHING. I didn’t want to have to leave my seat. And I made it until after the top of the 8th inning ended.

The entire park full of people seemed to be holding their breath throughout the game. As each inning concluded, the collective breath was drawn in tighter and tighter.

I sat next to a former Wrigley Field groundskeeper. We kept telling each other that we would not speak of anything related to what could happen if the Cubs won. We silently counted down the number of outs left that the Cubs needed to get and began to hold up fingers to each other with the number once it was down to 10 outs to go.

After the 6th inning concluded, it was 9. In the 7th, Prior got three outs to get the number down to 6- BUT, I noticed on my scorecard that all three outs were fly ball outs- not a good sign for a power sinkerball pitcher. Prior was tiring, but Dusty had no one stirring in the bullpen.

The 8th started with the Cubs up 3-0. We got the first out to get the number down to 5. Then the roof caved in.

I won’t go into a blow by blow of what happened. Suffice to say it was torturous.

After the 3rd out, I went to the bathroom and the number of fans in there swearing at the top of their lungs mixing with others in a zombie like daze was amazing. Stall doors were kicked. Towel dispensers were punched. It was not a pretty sight.

The rest of the game was a blur. All the life and air had been completely sucked out of the park.

Then, it was over. I turned to see my daughter and wife in tears- their hearts torn out and stomped on with a thoroughness that only a Cubs fan can understand.

We left after the final out and walked up the stairs and then slowly down the ramps with thousands of other fans- all in stony silence. No anger at that point, but a real feeling that “it was over”- even though there was still a game seven the next night. It’s hard to describe that feeling other than to say you could read it clear as a bell in the eyes of everyone around us as we all exited. They didn’t have to say it. They knew.

The line to the EL moved slowly and quietly. People rode the Red Line back downtown without a sound.

It truly was one of the eeriest, and saddest experiences that I’ve ever had.

Personally, if I’d been him, I’d have sued the pants off of them – and given Governor Bumpusovich my own form of public rebuke for the stupid remark he made.

But I’m not him. I still hurt for the guy and despise anyone claiming to be a “Cub fan” who’d run him down. And there’s plenty of ignorant lemmings among us who do so.

for reasons just like this. They don’t care whose life they ruin and a lot of times don’t care about the facts. His name should have NEVER been released to the public; what point did it serve? What if some moronic fan had done something stupid like tracking him down and beating the crap out of him (or heaven forbid worse)?

I’m a big believer in freedom of the press, but with freedom comes responsibility and publishing his name was very irresponsible