“Glory lies in the attempt to reach one’s goal and not in reaching it.”—Gandhi
Baseball is a game of failure. If a player on average gets a hit three out of ten times, he’s an all-star. What other profession rewards such a low success rate?
For over one hundred years, the Chicago Cubs have excelled at not winning a World Series. There have been winning seasons, amazing players and exciting games, but the ultimate goal remains elusive.
This summer and into the fall the 2015 Cubs have exceeded expectations. Perennial underdogs, they are a few days from clinching a playoff spot for the first time in seven years.
To me following the Cubs means more than just watching them play. From the comfort of my easy chair I will them to victory. The Cubs have taken on a mythical quality for me. The team is a reflection of my desire to “win at life” when the universe has stacked the odds against me.
Low self-esteem and feelings of worthlessness are classic depression symptoms. They’re a consequence of being a Cubs fan too.
I find a strong correlation between “the lovable losers’” inability to win it all and my shortcomings as a depressed person. But even non-depressed people encounter mountains of failure throughout their lives. Dare I say we’re all secret Cubs fans, or at least should be for a day?
This is a heavy line of thinking, but I’m a heavy thinker. I do enjoy the team and hope beyond hope they go deep this postseason. As profound as Gandhi was, I have to disagree. There is glory in trying to win a World Series, but winning one after ten-plus decades of coming up short—that sounds like heaven.