But I can tell you my favorite story from being one. Shortly after we married, I took my wife (a lifelong Pirate fan) to Wrigley Field for a late-July game against the Phillies in 1995. Two middling teams that year. It was a picture-perfect day at the yard. The Cubs led most of the game, but in typical fashion, coughed up three in the top of the ninth, and trailed by two heading into the bottom half. We were bummed, but figured that (a) it’s par for the course, and (b) it was still a gorgeous day. The first two in the bottom of the ninth went down without incident. The third batter hit a grounder to third which Charlie Hayes booted. The next batter (McRae?) gets hit with the first pitch. At this point, the crowd is getting a little excited, but I’ve seen this way too many times to get myself worked up yet. Shawon Dunston deposits the next pitch into the basket in left. The place goes nuts. We’re hugging people we don’t know. We stayed there and screamed for about ten minutes. After we exited the stadium, we turned down Sheffield, which is just a throng of people. There’s a little brass band on the corner playing some Dixieland tune, and everyone is dancing, drinking, and having the time of their lives. After a relatively meaningless game in July.

For what it’s worth, my wife has turned in her black and gold (at least during baseball season). She’s as much of a diehard as me. God bless Shawon Dunston.

It’s the same thing as being a fan of any team – you support them and cheer for them win or lose. We just happen to always lose.

In my mind—it means respect for the game—demonstrated by the great Cubs players who gave the team their all, even without championship adulation. These players gave their best because it was RIGHT, not because of a ring or a big salary. It means a love of tradition—playing in a true PARK with character and history, throwing the ball back after the other team hits a home run, and all of those other traditions that we all love. It means being the eternal optimist, even in the face of pessimistic reality. Loyalty—we all keep coming back year after year.

and oh yeah—a thick skin.