Someday

I don't remember the exact moment when I fell in love with the Cubs. The same way a person doesn't remember learning to love their parents or learning to chew solid food. I know that logically, there must have been a time in my life when I didn't know what the Cubs were, but I don't remember that time at all. I only ever remember being a Cubs fan.

I remember the little white transistor radio my mom had that only got AM stations, that she would use to listen to Cubs games. I remember Harry Caray and Steve Stone calling the games, and I remember being sad when Harry died, but relieved that he would never have to try to pronounce "Grudzielanek" or "Samardzija" backwards.

I remember going to my first Cubs game with my grandmother, my mom, and my brother, and letting the magic of Wrigley Field wash over me. That magic still exists there, every day, every time I walk into the stands. That first view of the field sets everything right with the world. Time stops. We are all made equal. We are all there to enjoy our time watching baseball, eating snacks we otherwise wouldn't allow ourselves, and cheering for our boys in pinstripes.

I remember my first Cubs crush on Shawon Dunston, soon to be followed by Kerry Wood, Mark DeRosa, and after a year of not allowing myself to like him because he had been with the Marlins who beat us the year before, Derrick Lee. I remember feeling a special bond with Keith Moreland because of the similarity of our last names, even though we've never met.

I remember getting excited in 1984, in 2003, in 2008, and in 2015, when it looked like we might finally win it all. I remember thinking that we were the best, no matter how many errors we made, how few runs we scored, or how the stats stacked up against us. I remember being devastated each time when what looked so easy for everyone else turned out to be so hard for us.

But mostly, I remember the love. I've been asked many times what the big deal is about the Cubs. They don't put on the offensive show that a lot of American League teams do, with fireworks going off for every home run. Wrigley is an old stadium, falling apart in places, that is missing the state of the art food courts and LED banners that tell us when to stand up and make noise. "It's just a baseball team." Except it's not. It is hope. It is a dream. It is a light that lets us know that no matter what happens today, there will be a tomorrow. There will be another chance. From Harry Caray to Pat Hughes, the fans are always brought into the games, welcomed as if each and every moment of each and every game could be the turning point that we've all been waiting for for 108 years. We lose, and we brush ourselves off and come back and play again. It has to take a lot of love for players like Kerry Wood and Greg Maddux to want nothing more than to come back to the Cubs to finish their careers, for men like Ernie Banks to dedicate themselves to the team and the organization long after retirement. It has to take a lot of heart to still show up to the ballpark and to still play as hard as you can every game for over a century without getting the one thing millions of people are hoping, dreaming, willing into existence - a World Series title. Because if we have the title, then maybe other people will finally listen when we say the Cubs are the best team in baseball. They always have been.

For my grandmother who lived her whole life without seeing the Cubs win it all.
For my mother who filled our house with baseball even before I knew what baseball was.
For Harry Caray who assured us that this day would come, as sure as God made little green apples, even though he's not here to see it.
For Ron Santo, who I'm sure would have had a heart attack in the booth if he had tried to call this series.
For Ernie Banks, who taught us all to be kind and gracious and to keep playing no matter what.
For Wood, Prior, DeRosa, Dawson, Lazzeri, Gossage, Sandberg, Maddux, Durham, Sutcliffe, Lee, Jenkins, Dunston, Dempster, Zambrano, Johnson, Barrett, Alou, Williams, Dean, Lindstrom, Zimmer, Wilson, Sutter, Boa, Smith, Moreland, Pappas, Brock, Ramirez, Kelly, Hornsby, Grace, Davis, Cey, and Brown who gave it their everything and never quite got there.
For Tinker.
For Evers.
For Chance.

This one is for you. This is your win. This is your year.

Thank you.

I don't remember the exact moment I fell in love with this team. I know I will never love another team in the same way. I will always be grateful that I got to see them make history, even from afar. Because if the Cubs can win the World Series, what else is possible?

Everything.

September 13 - New York

I New Yorked today. I New Yorked so hard. 

Two of my very lovely friends back in Chicago sent me a copy of Joss Whedon's biography. I'm not very far into it yet, but it starts out talking about how many failures he has experienced and how all of those setbacks inspire him to appreciate the little successes. Today was a day of little successes for me and I am going to share them here because...because it is good to take stock of the wins, no matter how small. Especially when I'm in the middle of the whole moving debacle that will be continuing into next week because the driver got sick so my stuff won't be here tomorrow. Anyway. 

I New Yorked. 

I woke up stupidly early, in part because Owen got the crazies and in part because I was thinking about too many things. I filed a complaint with the BBB against the movers, and then set out about the rest of my day. Which was...auditions! Today was audition day. Three scheduled auditions between 10am and 2:30pm. I don't know that I've ever done three auditions in the same day before - win #1. Multiple auditions made me feel like an actual New York actor. 

Win #2 - I actually feel like I did well at all three auditions. One was a monologue, one was prepared sides, and one was sides given to me when I got there. So three different techniques, three different methods to prepare, and I felt like I did good work at all three. 

Win #3 - I got called back for two of the three. Which means I wasn't the only one who thought I did good work at the auditions. Two out of three callbacks. I think that's a personal record. 

I also got my favorite New York sandwich and had a beer when I got home to relax and deal with the mover frustration before running back out to the library to print sides for one of the callbacks tomorrow (they're both at the same time).

But what all of this means to me, regardless of whether or not I am cast in these projects, is that I do good work, and my work translates from Chicago to New York. It means I wasn't jumping the gun coming out here before having my equity card. It means I do have a future here. My biggest fear in moving to New York was that I would not get cast in anything, and here I just landed two callbacks in the same day. That means I will get cast in something at some point. Hell, I've been cast in one play already. This can't be a fluke. I'm good at what I do. Other people can see that, too. 

I will always love Chicago, and there are many things I miss. I miss them more the longer I am away. But today, it felt so good to New York that hard. Now I have to prepare for my callbacks tomorrow (that I can go to since the movers aren't showing up).