The Boys of Summer

Today is Opening Day.

(well, yesterday was, but that doesn't really count because the Cubs didn't play)

Opening Day is nearly a holiday in our house.

Chris dresses up in Cubs regalia and I wear my royal blue.

Nothing says 'summer' like baseball.

~

We are major baseball fans here at our house. My little brother has always played, and I have spent many a summer afternoon on a blanket on the grass in the sun watching baseball. There is really nothing quite like it. Hot sun, cool breeze, green grass, the crack of the bat. That's summer for me and I miss being able to do that as frequently as I once did. Chris played baseball as a kid, but traded it in for swimming in high school. But he has a love for baseball that is matched by a small few. Opening day is like Christmas morning, only a little better. There is just something about the game that brings joy to us both.

We are Cubs fans here at our house. My journey to being a Cubs fan is short and simple: I fell in love with a boy who loved the Cubs. It wasn't difficult to catch a full-fledged Cubs infection once the initial bug was planted. They are truly lovable, and having a husband-to-be point out all their lovableness didn't hurt. Before I knew it I had a Cubs t-shirt, then 2, then 3. Cubs blankets and PJs adorn our couches and lay on the floor (or sit in the drawer, on the rare occasion that I remember to put them away). We have a little Cubs cub that hung on Chris's window when he was a baby and throughout his whole life. That little sun-bleached Cub will be hanging on our baby girl's window. And the first outfit for Lil'? A Cubs set complete with blanket and booties. They're ingrained in our lives, and, call us masochists, we like it that way.

Why would we be masochists? Because Cubs fans have suffered a long and disastrous road over the last century. For you unfamiliars, the Curse of the Billy Goat is, of course, to blame. "In Game 4 of the 1945 World Series, the Curse of the Billy Goat was laid upon the Cubs when P.K. Wrigley ejected Billy Sianis, who had come to Game 4 with two box seat tickets, one for him and one for his goat. They paraded around for a few innings, but Wrigley demanded the goat leave the park due to its unpleasant odor. Upon his ejection, Mr. Sianis uttered, "the Cubs, they ain't gonna win no more." The Cubs lost Game 4, lost the Series, and have not been back since" (Wikipedia). They've gotten close. In 2003 they were 5 outs away when a fan went for a foul ball at the same time at a player and prevented him from catching the ball. That lead to a rally by the other team and the Cubs eventually losing the series. Last year, on the 100 year anniversary since their last World Series victory, it looked like it was their year. Instead they were swept in an embarrassing manner by the Dodgers. But this year is their year. As a Cubs fan, every year is the year.

~

We had the opportunity to attend a Cubs game at Wrigley field 2 summers ago (wow, time flies).

It was awesome.

Chris at Wrigley Field. I've never seen that boy grin like he did that day. It was adorable. Wrigley sits on Addison Avenue. We had wanted to name a little girl Addison because of that, and if Addison wasn't the most popular name on the face of the earth right now (wait, maybe its number 2 right after Emma) than we would have. Instead Chris would like to name a boy Ernie, after Ernie Banks. That's not gonna happen either. Maybe we'll name a puppy Wrigley someday . . . . Anyway, we loved going to Wrigley Field. It really is a magical place, even in the sweltering Chicago humidity.

I can't wait to go back.

Let the games begin.

Go Cubbies.