When I was 11, I saw A League Of Their Own in the theater and spent the next 6 months throwing around a baseball at school pretending to be the feisty redheaded pitcher Kit. Unfortunately, I have almost zero hand eye coordination when it comes to sports where balls are thrown at my face (insert “Clueless” joke here), and so I went back to running, skiing, hiking, and other less dangerous sports. I did however grow up in a very sports heavy household that mostly revolved around The San Francisco 49ers and Monday Night Football with my Dad. I of course being a super tomboy and a daddy’s girl, made sure to pay attention and follow the game as much as I could. I collected football cards, I loved Joe Montana and I was always jumping up and down when we won… which in the late 80s and 90s was a lot. My Grandmother however was a die hard Giants fan even though she had lived in Oklahoma for over 30 years, and she was still yelling at the screen at her boys days before she passed. Loving your team was ingrained in me, but even though I loved the San Francisco teams I grew up with, I never felt like I was truly in love with them like other more diehard fans were and I always felt a little outside of what it is to be a true fan.
Fast forward to spring 2015, and I had been living in Chicago for 5 years at that point and still couldn’t quite wrap my head around the Cubs mania here. Why does everyone love a team so much that never seem to win? Then my Dad came to visit and we went to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. It was my first time in the stadium and I can not deny that the energy and love that fills that place when the Cubs are playing was something I had never experienced before. My Dad isn’t a huge baseball fan either, but I have never seen him so excited to be at a ballgame and being able to sit inside the incredibly historic Wrigley Field was really exciting for both of us. I brought my huge DSLR that day even though I was a bit worried about it getting knocked around, but I knew it was going to be one of those days I wouldn’t soon forget and my Dad was beyond tickled to take pictures around the park even after the game. We lost that day… but I came out of the ballpark completely transformed into a Cubs Fan. Please excuse all the cheesy selfies we took… though I will say I’m so glad we did. These images are some of my favorite moments with my dad in recent years.
This world series win for the Cubs is not only important because it’s historic, but because it is a huge win for the fans. I’ve met so many people since I’ve lived here in Chicago that are die hard Cubs fan year after year, lose after lose… but they continue to love their team with a fierce loyalty that is unfortunately scarce in this world. My Dad is now a part of this too, loving the cubs since that day as well and when we won we called each other crying with happiness. Flying the W here has become a symbol to keep the faith, never give up hope, and never ever stop believing. Schwarber, Russel, Bryant, Rizzo and the rest of the boys have given Chicago, and really… all of America a reason to believe in miracles, because when you put all of yourself into loving something and striving to achieve a goal it will eventually pay off. So today, no matter what team you love, Fly The W for the hopeful dreamer in all of us, and know that anything is possible.
And in the oh so eloquent words of Cubs Pitcher John Lester at the rally this morning… “How ’bout this shit!?”
GO CUBS GO!!!
~With Love, Genevieve