Dad took me to games. Whole family on both sides were “Cubs” fans. I learned so much about the teams history when I was in school, history of the team before Wrigley and even before the NL (the National Association was before the NL, in 1870-1876). The stories my Dad told me will last my life time and my children’s life time as many of those stories have already been repeated. The Cubs memorabilia he left me is utterly amazing. Pictures he got from his Dad and grand-dad when they played on the lake front and the West Side Grounds, more commonly known today as UIC.

The first time I visit the cemetary after they win the WS, I’ll probably break down and cry, staring at my Dad’s grave-stone and say, “they did it Dad!” It’s a bit ironic in that during his last days and weeks, the Cubs began the 1997 season – well if you can call it that – at 0-14. Visiting him in the hospital, barely able to talk, he was still able to say, “well son, I guess I’ll never get to see my Cubbies win the WS”. His last words were “take care of my grandchildren”. He went into a coma a day later and died May 5th.

on the right-hand column of the main page. That diary records the answers a couple hundred of us have given to this type of question over the last couple of years.

my family tells me how the town barber in Elgin, IL was impressed at my knowledge of the Cubs’ lineup. We moved away a year later but I have kept the faith. And waited…and waited….and waited. I remember being pissed off in ‘69. Favorite player? Billy Williams. Took pride in batting left and throwing right and, of course, wore #26 whenever possible in school sports

both are interesting threads. what do we do for a living wasnt done that long ago so you recognize a variety of people.

I live in the L.A. area and all of my friends were Dodger fans, and my dad was a Cardinal fan. I guess the reason I became a Cub fan is because I wanted to rebel against my dad and my friends. Everybody was putting down the Cubs, so I decided to be for the Cubs, and the rest is history. From that point on I have taken a lot of ribbing about being a Cubs fan, you know, things like, “Why are you for the Cubs and you live in L.A.?”, or, “The Cubs stink, always have always will,” “What’s the matter with your Cubbies can’t they win anything!..ha..ha..ha..ha.” By the way, sorry Al, that is why I despise the term “Cubbies.” They are the Cubs, not the “Cubbies!!” Anyway, even with all the abuse, I’ve never regretted my decision – but they’ve got to win sometime…right…right?

This is pretty long, but I hope you’ll all bear with me here.

Like a lot of Cubs fans, it was pretty much genetic for me. My father is a Cubs fan, and my grandfather was a Cubs fan, and my great-grandfather was a Cubs fan, and… well, you get the idea.

The funny thing was, as a little kid I never had much interest in sports. I played T-Ball and Little League, like all of my friends; I was aware (as was anyone in the Chicago area who had a pulse) of the Bulls’ championships; I knew about the Cubs and Sox, about Ryno and the Big Hurt; I was well aware of the Monsters of the Midway. But sports just weren’t my thing, and I pledged allegiance to neither the North Siders nor South Siders. But a funny thing happened in 1998 – I was captivated by the Cubbies that year. The 20-strikeout game, the home run race – suddenly, the Cubs became part of my life. My “Bleed Cubbie Blue” genes were finally starting to kick in.

I went to my first Cubs game the following season, with my grandfather. I still remember it like it was yesterday – August 6, 1999, daytime doubleheader against the Astros. The Cubs won the first game 6-1, and rather improbably won the second 6-0 on a shutout by Andrew Lorraine, just called up from Iowa. Wrigley Field looked just as wonderful as I imagined it would; the loss hurt, but the win was truly wonderful to experience. I was hooked.

It’s fitting that it was my grandpa who was with me that day – he was the biggest Cubs fan I’ve ever known in my life, and had baseball in his blood. He grew up idolizing the powerhouse Cubs teams of the ‘30s; he used to talk about Gabby Hartnett and Phil Cavaretta as if they were old friends. In the late ‘40s, when he was in the Army and stationed at Fort Dix, New Jersey, he would take the train up to New York every time the Cubs were in town to play the Giants or Dodgers. (He told me that of all the ballparks he’d been to, only Ebbets Field was even close to as beautiful as Wrigley.)

During the ‘50s and ‘60s, he would take his whole family up to the North Side for several games a year (he lived in South Holland) and, sometimes, would stop at Comiskey Park on the way back – not to see a game, but to cavort with the Sox head groundskeeper, who was an old friend of his (and gloat about a Cubs win, if the Cubs had been lucky enough to win on that day) while the kids ran amok around the White Sox clubhouse. (Somewhere there exists a picture of my dad sitting on Nellie Fox’s knee; nobody can seem to find the damn thing, though.) He often talked about the highs and lows of the ‘69 season, perhaps more than any other memories he had of the Cubs.

In later years, he was a frequent visitor to the Wrigley Field press box and broadcast booth; Lou Boudreau was one of his best friends from high school, and when Lou was working for WGN, my grandpa was always welcome to drop by the booth before and after games.

Cubs fandom may have been in my blood, but it may not have stuck with me – all the terrible baseball that followed that magical ‘98 season may have turned me off to following the Cubs – if not for my grandpa telling me these stories, stories about Ronnie and Ernie and Billy, stories about great days at the ballpark, stories that showed just how important the team was to him. It didn’t take much for that to rub off on me.

During the final years of his life, my grandpa developed Alzheimer’s Disease; he passed away before it completely robbed him of his faculties, and before he left one of the last things that always brought a glimmer to his eye, that he was always able to remember and talk about, was Cubs baseball. It’ll always make me glad that one of the last things he saw in this life was the Cubs blazing a trail to first place last summer.

Before he passed on, he left me one of his most cherished possessions, which has in turn become one of mine: his Cubs scrapbook, from when he was a child. Every day he’d cut every Cubs-related picture from the newspaper, as well as any important baseball story, and paste it in his scrapbook. He collected autographs from every player he could locate (there’s even one signed “Gloomy Gus Williams, the only player to strike out 120 times in 1914”), found baseball postcards, and cut baseball stuff out of sports magazines. Looking through its tattered pages is like reliving the goings-on of major league baseball in the late ‘30s – the Homer in the Gloamin’, Lou Gehrig’s retirement, Johnny Vander Meer’s back-to-back no-hitters.

The fact that it’s still here, after all these years, is a testament to just what sort of a Cubs fan and baseball man my grandfather was. His knowledge and understanding of the game was truly awesome, and his love for it – and for the Cubbies – was absolutely infectious.

Here’s to you, grandpa.

Family moved to Chicago (northern burbs) when I was 13 years old in 1976. Became a diehard Cub fan the subsequent year when my new baseball teammates introduced me to the Cubs, Wrigley Field and WGN. Instantly became huge fan of Bill Buckner and Big Daddy Rich Reuschel. Buckner remains my all-time favorite Cub.

my dad was a diehard and, after a few years of not-so-subtle influencing, he finally caused his seven year old son to catch the lifelong bug. I was weaned on Jack Brickhouse, Vince Lloyd and Lou Boudreau-my favorite Cubs include Don Kessinger, Rick Monday, Bill Buckner, Larry Biittner, Manny Trillo and, my all-time favorite, Ryne Sandberg.
Sure, as a Cubs fan I’ve had more than my share of letdowns but I prefer to focus on all the special memories and thrills the Cubs have brought me throughout the years. I wouldn’t change even if I could.

ill never forget it. i sat in the left field bleachers and it was hotter than blazes like 90s or somethin. The cubs were playing the cardinals i think on august 15th sometime in the mid to late 90s. This game was something, the cubs lost that game bu till never forget who was playing in left, none other than Rondell White. The whole game all i could hear were drunk fat guys heckling him and throwing beer on him. haha something ill never forget but of course being young they scarred me.
“Hey Rondell, YOU SUCK!”

He and my sister got married in 1977, the year both Chicago teams were in first place (just like this year!). Up until then I was a Tigers fan only, but being that he was originally from Lansing, ILL he had a lot of interest in the Cubs. Used to go with his dad to see the great players of the Durocher era – Santo, Banks, Williams, Hundley, Fergie. So with him being into the Cubs and with the team doing well in the summer of 77, he talked about them a lot and got me hooked.

Since then I’ve endured many ups and downs, and have often asked myself “Why do you keep rooting for them?” It’s sort of like why Asian mathematicians keep working at seemingly unsolvable equations and physicists keep plugging away at discovering a Theory of Everything – it’s so great a mystery and so intriguing a phenomenon that a ballclub has gone 100 years without a championship and over 60 years without a pennant. And when they do it, I can finally breathe easy and watch them play without a sense of anxiety buried deep inside me.

was a cubs fan and turned me on to em i think. i got nothin

... but if you are new here, here’s my story.

I was taken to my first game by my dad on July 6, 1963. Just to show you how different times are now—on that day the Cubs were nine games over .500, in third place only three games out of first, a huge improvement over the previous year. It was a Saturday afternoon in summer… and the attendance was 16,348. A very different era. Perhaps preparing me for all the failure I was to see, the Cubs lost 6-0 on a two-hitter by the Phillies’ Cal McLish.

Anyway, I was hooked, and when I discoverered I could watch these games every afternoon on TV, I began following the Cubs and baseball in depth. By 1970 when I was in junior high, I could take the train from the north suburbs to Wrigley Field with friends, and then began attending 50+ games a year starting in 1979, the year after I graduated college. Most of the rest you know.

It really was that simple. Being at a game, then knowing you could see them on TV every day. WGN-TV really did create several generations of Cubs fans.

My Mother hailed from Rathbun, Iowa, and they listened to the Cubs on the radio and when they would travel to Chicago, they went to Cubs games. My grandfather, who I never knew, allegedly tried out for the Cubs. Some years later, I was born.

I remember watching the games on TV and my Uncle Jim took my brother and I to our first game in 1967, if memory serves. I remember the first words out of our mouths when we climbed the steps behind home plate and actually saw the field in person for the first time “Wow! Look at the scoreboard!”. The Cubs played the Pirates that day, don’t remember who won.

1969 was the year I actually started Bleeding Cubbie Blue, along with the tears of disappointment that infects every Cub fan. lol

The next year, 1984, I made my first trip to Wrigley. That year coupled with the easy availability of Cubs games via WGN after school over the next few years did it. I also was playing baseball at the time. It was just too easy. I was never pressured to pick a team (Cubs/Sox) by either of my parents.

I just kinda started watching all of their games. I couldn’t miss one game. I was the only second-grader at the time who could name all 25 men on the Cubs roster.

The ‘college of coaches’ went into the dustbin following the hire of Durocher in ‘66. An elder relative, and huge fan of Leo, turned me onto the Cubs as we watched many a weekend television broadcast from our living room in New Orleans. The Cubs of the late sixties are a fond memory for me, and I’ll never forgive the Mets for dousing on the flames of ‘69. Those days anchored me with this Cubs team for life.

I started playing baseball in 1984. As any 8-year-old, I liked the dominating team with the best player around and the best chances of winning. Also, my dad got one of those huge satellite dishes and we got the Superstation (kind of a big deal, as this story takes place in Mexico City).
So, the Padres happened that fall, and I became really disillusioned with baseball in general. But I kept watching the ballgames on WGN, because my mom believed it would also improve my English-language skills (it did, but not thanks to Harry).
So, eventually, I found myself living in Chicago where I can profess my love for the Cubs without encumbering factors.

All I can say, The earliest games I remember are from 89, I was 6 at the time…and I wanted to be Ryne Sandberg. Its funny growing up in MN and there were more Cubs games on than Twins games at the time. Not even the hoopla of the 91 series could pry me from the Cubs, it was too late. While I consider myself a casual Twins fan being from here, Zimmer and the Boys roped me in that summer.

On a side note, my Mom always asked me who the drunk guy announcing the games was, just have to laugh at that.

Please don’t throw any stones at me. I’m from Memphis and it is rooted in Cardinal country. On top of that, my dad played high school ball, pitched to, was the orginal “Lefty” for and is a cousin of…Tim McCarver. So we followed his career and cheered for the Cards. As I got into my pre-teens and teens, I was pre-occupied with many things other than MLB. I played but didn’t have too much interest in watching.

In 1988 my family moved and I talked my dad into not putting an antenna on our new house and instead getting cable.  I soon discovered WGN and following the Cubs.  It made me realize how much I missed playing and watching baseball.  And to top it off I discovered RYNE SANDBERG.  I was hooked and never looked back.  As an added bonus, it really seems to unnerve all the Cardinal fans around me.

I’ve converted my Dad to Cubism (Cub – ism, not Cube – ism) as well as my wife and I’m currently raising 3 Cubs fans (with a 4th coming any day now).

I was raised on Cubs baseball. during the summers growing up we’d go to games all the time, I could do a scorecard before I could write cursive. When other girls had Shawn Cassidy and Andy Gibb on their walls I had Dave Kingman and Bill Buckner. I told my grandma I was going to marry Dave Kingman someday.

The Cubs also helped break the ice when my mom and my stepdad started to get serious. We went to games and it opened up conversation with him, my brother and myself.

I get really emotional over the Cubs more than any other subject and I am a political junkie. I know I will weep buckets when they win the world series. I was teary eyed when they won the division last year.

We still have pictures and the scorecard and newspaper articles about my first game. We do that for every member of the family when they go to their first game.

Sort of related what do you guys think is a good age for a first game? For my three oldest was 4, middle one was 3 and youngest was 2.

Also if it’s really really late and its going into the bottom of the 9th of a possible world series victory do you wake up the kids if they’re asleep? Most likely my oldest would be awake at least but if they are asleep they are woken up.

I can barely remember it, but WGN had a huge yellow “Grand Slam” graphic on the screen.

By 1984, I was a rabid Cub fan. Hall was gone, but Sutcliffe and Sandberg were my heroes.

In all honesty, like most of us here, I was raised as a Cub fan by my father, who was in turn raised as a Cub fan by his father. My son made his first Wrigley appearance last Saturday at age 1 (will be 2 in a week, though!)

My Mom was a DIE-HARD Cubs fan, and she told me that everyone born on the north side (I was born in Evanston) had to be a Cubs fan. If I didn’t like it, I was welcome to find a new mother. (OK, she wasn’t quite that harsh, but you get the idea.) After school TV was WGN any time the Cubs were on, and I thank her to this day for that alternative to the Hallmark after school specials.

I’m also a naturalized citizen of the Braves nation and the Rockies nation.

I went to my first game when I was about 5 years old, we took the EL down which was magical enough all by itself, then seeing Wrigley for the first time it was like when you see a beautiful woman from across a crowded room. We sat in the right field bleachers on an overcast day, my dad bought me one of those chocolate malt cups that they had the bright idea to give you a flat piece of wood rather than a spoon to eat. I couldn’t wait for it to thaw out so I jammed that thing in there and tried to scoop some out instead it flicked all across the back of the guy in front of me like a dairy based Jackson Pollack painting. The best part is he didnt notice and my dad and I just laughed as his ice cream covered shirt just flapped in the wind the entire game….great memories

I recently went to the Cubs/Mets game with my Grandpa (who is a Yankee fan from New York) and despite the fact we rooted for different teams it was a good time.

For me-—-The Cubs-——A culdesac street in Glenview had a few softball game but there was WGN at all times.

Like Al my first game was in 1963. I was 10, and I got one of those little bears in a Cub uniform and a pack of baseball cards of every Cub on the team. By 1967 I was hooked which was kind of unusual for a girl. I would run home from school in Waukegan, IL to watch games with my mom. My mother was a very proper lady and the only time she would “let loose” was watching the Cubs. She’d start cheering and yelling so much the dog would start barking and running in circles. I feel so old when I tell people I saw Fergie and Ronnie, Billy Williams and Ernie Banks actually play. I had a crush on Don Kessinger!

I have passed my Cub gene from my mother on to my children. On another post I told the story of naming my oldest son Robert after Bobby Murcer hit a home run the night I was in labor in July 1977. My youngest son is named Ryan, but I really wanted to name him Ryne. He was born in 1983.

I’m a nurse and now live in North Carolina. The other day I saw someone in the cafeteria of the large hospital I work in. He had a Cubs surgical scrub cap on. I ran up to him and showed him my Cubs crocs (shoes). We started high-fiving and saying “this is the year” to the suprise of many others there. Cub fans are like family!

I have really enjoyed all the stories. Go Cubs

and I grew up with Charlie Grimm’s great nephew. When the Dodgers came to LA in 1958, John and I always were on some kind of magic list when the Cubs came to town and, we were always at the Cubs games in LA. When Charlie was coaching, we naturally got to go to the clubhouse. My Dad did NOT like the Dodgers. "They were ‘dem bums’ in Brooklyn and they still are!"

I would pretty much have to watch whatever my sister was watching because we only had the one television, and, well, she was older. I remember one summer she started to watch the Cubs games on WGN. Being a short, fat Inuit (Eskimo) kid who wasn’t very athletic, I had never really been into the game.

Well, she would watch the game just to look at Ryno (she would mainly look at his posterior), but I paid attention to the games and really learned so much from listening to Harry and Steve Stone. I got to know the players, and the next thing you know, I’m a Cubs fan. I think it was probably the ‘87 season and the Hawk that really sealed the deal for me.

It sounds weird to say this, but in a round about way, I became a Cubs fan because of Ryne Sandberg’s butt.