NEWSLETTER
Today marks the two-year anniversary of the greatest day in sports history: The Chicago Cubs first World Series win in over 100 years.
Re-live the moment, just one more time (and then an additional dozen times over the next 15 minutes, and 30 more times tomorrow):
Two years ago the bar was set.
We celebrate the past to remind us what we’re working toward in the future. pic.twitter.com/ZVd1KXD7ey
— Chicago Cubs (@Cubs) November 2, 2018
It hasn’t been all that long since Anthony Rizzo gloved the final out of the 2016 World Series and popped it into his back pocket, but I can remember so much more about that night (and that moment, in particular) than any of my other favorite memories. I can remember where I was standing, what I was drinking, the way my heart was beating, the pit in my stomach when that final ball looked DESTINED to either roll under Kris Bryant’s glove or sail over Anthony Rizzo’s head, and the strangest feeling of simultaneous relief and then pure ecstasy when the out was called.
Although, I must admit: In the split second after the call was made, I was almost positive something was going to be over-tuned or challenged or called back or SOMETHING to take it away. The feeling might’ve lasted for only one beat, but it is so vivid in my mind. I just couldn’t believe what had happened. I couldn’t believe it was finally over.
I left the bar I was at – Wrightwood Tap (it has since closed, which is a little frustrating, because I wanted to say “That’s the place I saw them do it all!” to some fictional person who would care to hear that) – and ran down the street all the way to Wrigley Field with a MOB of happy Chicagoans, police officers, kids, parents, grandparents, dogs … everyone.
There was a little bit of insanity – people hanging off street lights and climbing places they probably shouldn’t – but there was also the strangest sense of cohesiveness or unity. I saw police officers keeping people safe, but letting them have their fun, I saw normally nervous people dancing on top of the low-hanging Wrigleyville garages, and I saw strangers – so many strangers – hugging each other and high-fiving as we all continued our pilgrimage to Wrigley Field.
I’m not necessarily a spiritual person, but in this moment … whoa baby, there was a lot going on. The way this team was able to bring an entire city together like that … it just blew me away. I’ll never forget it. And every November 2nd, I’ll sit back, remember, and smile.
