Sports are bitter sweet. Every fan of sports questions why she stresses over her team’s games. Being a Cleveland resident and fan, I question it all the time. An empty feeling in my stomach always accompanies a loss. For Indians fans who attended Game 7, their remorse was accompanied by an empty wallet, as they paid thousands to see their team lose in heartbreaking fashion. Why do we put ourselves through it? If we suffer so much when our teams lose, why do we keep coming back? We come back because sports, especially the anticipation, bring us together. Young, old, rich, and poor are all united in a simple goal: to cheer their team to victory.
Seeking some humor, my friends Colleen, Elle, and I created a group chat after our teams clinched spots in the World Series. We named the group “Two Cubbies and a Wahoo.” Colleen and Elle were the “Cubbies” and I was the “Wahoo.” When the Tribe won, I shared funny memes of Indians short-stop Francisco Lindor and his pearly white smile. When the Cubs won, the “Cubbies” share articles titled “Photos That Prove the Cubs Are the Sexiest Team Around.” Obviously, their interests were beyond baseball.
Last weekend, my family came to South Bend for the Notre Dame football game. We met up and couldn’t help laughing at our decision to add a touch of Cleveland red to our green game day outfits. Walking the campus before the game, we decided to start a running tally of how many “Go Tribe!” exclamations we could garner from other fans. We set the over/under at 50. After day’s end, the tally exceeded 75! As random fans shouted “Go Tribe!” from across campus, adding to the tally, I noticed how a baseball cap creates an instant bond. We shared laughs and conversed with total strangers all afternoon. As we started to lose count, we added a wrinkle to the game: find the hidden Indians fans amongst the ND clergyman. Unfortunately after playing that game for a few minutes, we realized God was on the Cubs side. This game ended quickly.
As I walked to my two o’clock class Wednesday afternoon, I dreamt of driving home for the World Series game. I calculated the hours until game time and decided I would have to leave South Bend no later than four o’clock to make it to Cleveland in time. I quickly shook the thought from my head and focused on the test I was about to take.
When I found my seat in class, I heard my phone ring. I ignored the first call, but when my sister called again, I texted her back. She responded, saying she had two tickets to the World Series game seven for her and me. I had never taken a test so quickly.
En route to Cleveland, a construction sign on the expressway read “I-80 East: The best route to the World Series!” My sister and I could barely contain our excitement. Neither could the majority of cars passing us at 90 mph on I-80. Over half of the cars we passed were filled with people coming from the Windy City, dressed in Cubs blue. As we passed a car whose license plate says “WGLY FLD,” my nerves started to set in.
Two of the Indians star players, Francisco Lindor and Mike Napoli, strike out and ground out to start the bottom of the eighth. Down three runs, any chance at a comeback for my beloved Tribe is dwindling. Minus the cheers from the fans in blue, the stadium feels like a deflated balloon.
Then, a spark of hope.
A benign ground ball off the bat of José Ramirez deflects off the glove of Addison Russell. An infield hit. The stadium starts to come alive.
Joe Maddon, the Cubs’ manager, takes no chances. He removes John Lester in favor of Arnoldis Chapman, the Cubs’ shutdown closer.
The roars grow deafening as Brandon Guyer works a full count on Chapman.
Then, pure hysteria.
Guyer smacks the payoff pitch, a 100 mph heater, to the right field wall. Ramirez scores. 6-4 Cubs.
Next up, Rajai Davis, the struggling, yet energetic Indians outfielder.
Indians fans, though loud, are silently fearing the worst. Davis has hit a measly .190 in the World Series. And he’s facing arguably the best relief pitcher in the world. The Cubs and their fans have confidence in their man, who closed out the last two games in dominant fashion.
Only the magic of sports can describe what happens next.
In this David vs. Goliath showdown, Davis battles and scraps his way to a 2-2 count. Choking up slightly on his bat, praying for contact, Davis lifts a hanging Chapman slider above the left field wall.
A home run. Game tied. 6-6.
A tidal wave of red and noise sweeps the stadium. Strangers hug and fans rejoice as Davis sprints around the bases.
In this brief moment of pure exhilaration, everyone wearing red is my best friend. I am not sure my boyfriend would have approved of the number of men I hugged in those few seconds of celebration. I promise, it was only for the love of the game.
Simply because it is now world news, I do not see it necessary to share the outcome of the game. Walk the campus of Saint Mary’s or Notre Dame, and the baseball caps and flying flags will give it away. And if you’re looking for me, I’ll be wearing a Chief Wahoo hat in expectation for Opening Day in 159 days.
It is the day after the World Series, and I am almost certain everyone in the country is thinking about that baseball game.
“It would have been great for both sides if the game was just called off, 6-6, and both of them get the trophy” said LeBron James to ESPN the day after the game. “Sports is a beautiful thing. It brings so many people together. It can be heartbreaking at times. It can be uplifting … and it’s never going to stop. It’s going to go beyond all of us — you guys covering the game, me playing the game — and the thing about it is the support of teams and championships never stops. It’s been going [on] forever.”
Go Tribe!
Love,
A Mourning Wahoo