Red Sox Fans Know How Cubs Fans Feel
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A BOSTON VIEW
By BOB RYAN
The Boston Globe
Published: October 17, 2003
nytimes.com
UNDERSTAND this: at no point in the discussion was it ever close.
Going into this postseason, I would say that, on a 1-to-10 scale of suffering, the Cubs and their fans might have edged up in the 7 range. The Red Sox were somewhere between a 12 and a 13, depending on the exact nature of each fan's level of self-pity.
But this latest chapter in the Cubs' saga certainly narrows the gap. Never in their history have the Red Sox lost a series in which they were up by 3-1, and up by 3-1 with their two aces ready and rested, and with said aces not having lost back-to-back starts all season. Oh, and with a 3-0 lead with five outs remaining in Game 6.
Before this, the comparisons were laughable. Do you know what the Cubs had to offer as evidence of suffering since winning their last World Series in 1908?
The answer is, not much.
The Cubs lost somewhat routine World Series in 1910, 1918 (Red Sox fans may have heard something about that), 1932 (four-game Yankee sweep, punctuated by the Babe supposedly calling his shot against Charlie Root), 1938 (another Yankee four-game sweep) and 1945 (seven-gamer with the Tigers, a Series generally acknowledged as being played at the lowest artistic level of any in history).
So where's the heartbreak?
¶1929 World Series. With the Cubs leading the Philadelphia A's, 8-0, in the seventh inning of Game 4, the A's explode for a World Series-record 10 runs in the bottom of the seventh. Cubs lose the Series in five.
¶1935 World Series. Cubs enter Game 6 trailing the Tigers, 3-2. The score is 3-3 entering the top of the ninth. Stan Hack leads off with a triple. But following him are 8-9-1 in the order. Billy Jurges strikes out (cross-curse reference: he would later manage the Red Sox). This being 1935, and the game being played very differently, Cubs Manager Charlie Grimm allows pitcher Larry French to hit. He taps to the box. Two away. Augie Galan flies out. Hack is still standing on third. Tigers get a run in the bottom of the ninth to win the game and the Series.
¶1969. Cubs are the best team in the National League for five months but collapse in September. The Mets win the pennant and the World Series.
¶1984 National League Championship Series. Cubs go up, 2-0, in three-of-five-game series with the Padres. San Diego comes back to win three straight, with a key play in Game 5 being a ball that rolls between the legs of Cubs first baseman Leon Durham, a certified butcher in the first place.
That's pretty much all the Chicago fans had to offer as evidence until the events of the past five days.
Unlike the Red Sox, who since 1967 have been in many pennant races, the Cubs usually stink. Since that World Series appearance in 1945, the Cubs have had extended periods of hopelessness, interspersed with occasional periods of joy. For the fans, we are talking about the difference between loving and losing, as opposed to spending Saturday night picking up sundries at CVS. There's no crying when you're 29 games out.
There's a whole lot of weeping and wailing when . . .
Babe Ruth, Herb Pennock, Carl Mays, Everett Scott and several more Red Sox players are all transferred to New York, where they form the foundation of a dynasty that exists to this day.
Or when Enos Slaughter scores from first on Harry Walker's double and Johnny Pesky is not told quickly enough where to throw the ball.
Or when Joe McCarthy wakes up and says: "Hey! Denny Galehouse will shut these guys down!" on the morning of the 1948 one-game playoff with the Cleveland Indians.
Or when the Red Sox go to Yankee Stadium needing to win one of two games in order to clinch the 1949 pennant and can't win any.
Or when Bob Gibson gets to pitch Game 7 in the 1967 Series on three days' rest and Jim Lonborg is forced to pitch on two.
Or when Luis Aparacio falls down rounding third while representing a huge run in 1972.
Or when Bill Lee throws Tony Perez a forbidden changeup in Game 7 of the 1975 Series.
Or when Lou Piniella, blinded by the late-afternoon Fenway sun, sticks out his glove to save the game on Oct. 2, 1978.
Or when their team comes as close to winning a championship and then not winning as any team in the history of North American (and, for all I know, world) sport in 1986.
Or, or, or, or or, or, or ORRRRRR!
The Red Sox have lapped the field in what-ifs. No other team has put its fans in such continual emotional turmoil. The issue between Cubs followers and Red Sox followers isn't 95 vs. 85. The issue is how many times your team has raised your hopes, only to have some dramatic or illogical event leave you at the mythical altar. No people in American sport have had their dreams ruthlessly crushed — no pun intended — more than those who have invested their emotional energy in following the Boston Red Sox.
Only a Red Sox fan can properly identify with Cubs devotees right now. It may not have the resonance of "there's a little roller toward Buckner," but "there's a fly ball dropping into the left-field seats" will enter Cubs lore. Steve Bartman, the fan who prevented Moises Alou from making a play on that foul ball in the eighth inning of Game 6, will be remembered as the Mrs. O'Leary's cow of Chicago baseball.
It's true that he didn't boot a ground ball or make the pitches that resulted in the Marlins scoring eight runs in that inning, but Bartman did inject himself into the action, and he must be made to understand the enormity of his transgression. This should be a lesson for all times, but, of course, it won't be. People will continue to interfere with baseballs in play (and don't tell me he shouldn't have seen Alou coming), placing their desire for a souvenir ahead of an appreciation for the competition on the field. Put me down as having no sympathy for Mr. Bartman, and plenty for the team and the people who care about the Cubs.
It could have happened only to the Cubs. Unless it happened to the Red Sox. |
