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I M P R E S S I O N S

 

True Love for Losers

by Richard C. Crepeau


As another baseball season reaches the halfway mark, many teams who are wallowing in or near the basements of their respective divisions already know they have little hope of playing in October. Surprisingly, the Cubs — despite corked controversies and untimely injuries — is not one of them.

But rather than cheer on "This Will Be the Year" rhetoric, it’s time to suggest an all-out celebration of futility. After all, failure is just as much in vogue in our culture as success (in some ways, it’s even cooler). And the Cubs’ record of failure is surely one of the greatest. 

Few of today’s Cubs fans were alive when the team last won the World Series in 1908. Their presence was due to the now legendary “Merkle boner,” which allowed the Cubs to go on to win the National League pennant, and there are those who believe that a curse has been on them ever since.

Attachment to losing is taken to a level of religious fanaticism by the faithful. Of course, the charm of the Cubs is not simply that they lose, but that they are loveable losers. Indeed, if the Cubs were to do the improbable ” nay, the impossible ” and win a World Series, Cub fans would risk losing the essence of their “Cubness.”

Late last year, I had dinner with a family of Cub fanatics in Edinburgh, Scotland. Stewart and Sally Craig, of Rockford, Ill., were in the U.K. visiting their daughter Jeanne, herself a devotee of the Cubs (devotion is genetic). Over single malt whiskey and haggis, we reminisced over the Cubs’ long losing history. When I started talking about a fourth of July doubleheader with the Expos on a brutally hot day in the mid-1970s, Sally interjected that yes, that was the day that outfielder Larry Biittner had come in to pitch for the Cubs in the final inning, with the Cubs already trailing by some 20 runs. I had been trying to remember Biittner’s name all week, and Sally pulled it out of her Cub memory bank before I had finished the story.

The Craigs revealed their passion in ways non-fans may not fully appreciate. Who else but a Wrigley Field Regular could find both charm and nostalgia in those "troughs" that serve as urinals in the men’s rooms? Stewart Craig, however, was absolutely eloquent when he described, in perceptive detail, the beer-and-sweat-induced aromatic wonders of this strikingly democratic accouterment of Wrigley Field.  

From here, the conversation ventured to the varied and interesting ways in which the Craigs exercise their Cubness. One of their favorite pastimes, before Todd Hundley was traded to the Los Angeles Dodgers, was  the “Hundley Game,” which could be played at home or at the ballpark. The object was simple: Predict what Todd Hundley will do before each time at bat. Your choices: 1) strike out 2) strike out looking 3) ground out 4) foul out 5) pop or fly out. Double prize money was awarded for calling a Hundley home run, a prize no one ever collected. If you predicted correctly that after striking out looking Hundley would turn and stare at the umpire, your money was doubled. 

Though Hundley is gone, you can count on someone stepping forward to fill Todd’s empty and decidedly small shoes. There has never been a shortage of futility, individual or collective, where the Cubs are concerned.

The Craigs already are planning a celebration in 2007, when the Cubs are eliminated from the pennant race, thus establishing a “Century of Futility.” (The date 2007 will certainly be disputed by those who argue that the true anniversary is the 2008 season, but the party will go on.) This plan is both simple and complicated. When the Cubs are poised to be eliminated from contention for the World Series victory, be that in May or in October, the Craig family, and those who share their millennial vision, will attend the deciding game. The complications arise from the fact that this could occur in any major league city in North America, and that it could occur within a broad window of time. The Cub Faithful will need to be prepared for the possibility of a lengthy and rigorous road trip. It could also require studying game results through the night, even on nights when the Cubs are not playing, to identify the magical conclusion to this epic century of futility.

The Craigs envision a Cub Caravan making its way across the major league landscape, filled with anticipation of the moment. Hundreds, if not thousands, of the Cub faithful will be present to mark this milestone. The Craig family will lead this trek across this field of futility: "If they do it, they will come."

What sort of celebration would be worthy of this historic moment? Certainly champagne would be appropriate, with corks popping as soon as the team of statisticians render their verdict and pinpoint the magic moment. A party stretching through the night at a major hotel would follow. Press conferences would be scheduled and, on the following day, the commissioner of baseball would present a trophy or plaque paying homage to failure on a grand and unprecedented scale. The only question is, should a Cub game be stopped if the elimination comes while they are on the field? The answer is self-evident to any true believer.

Complex mathematical computations will be required to ensure that the reverse magic number is properly calculated. Being in the financial field, Stewart Craig is no doubt well placed to find just the right team of statisticians to handle this delicate task. Who knows, maybe Bill James will volunteer his services for such a worthy enterprise. In addition, arrangements for transportation, hotels and game tickets will require the skills of a travel coordinator.

The very thought of this historic Cub moment sends chills down my spine, and I am putting my name on the list for prime seats to participate in the Craig Caravan whenever it forms. I know others of you who appreciate grand-scale failure will want to be there, too.

One caveat: Given Cub history, one must be extremely cautious when making such plans. It would in fact be just like the Cubs to go and win the World Series in 2007 and ruin everything. Or, as is suggested by W.P. Kinsella in his short story, "The Last Pennant Before Armageddon," the world could end before such a thing is allowed to happen.

Just to be on the safe side, bring your ascension robes along.



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Richard C. Crepeau is a professor of history at the University of Central Florida in Orlando and a contributing editor to PopPolitics. He is the author of Baseball: America’s Diamond Mind (click here to purchase). This Cubs article will appear in the next issue of Elysian Field Quarterly, a literary baseball journal.

Related Sites
Visit Wrigley Field and the Cubs’ official site.
For up-to-date information on the Cubs’ foibles, check out ESPN’s clubhouse or the Chicago Tribune.


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