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by alex ciepley
Congratulations to the Red Sox and their fans. This Cubs fan finds some consolation in knowing that at least one team was able to put old demons to rest this year. That this end was accomplished while delivering a genuine butt-whipping to the Cardinals is an added perk.
Baseball, always in need of a storyline of the downtrodden, will now set its sights clearly on the city of Chicago. 1908. 1917. These are the saddest of possible words.
In actuality, the pain I've felt in following the Cubs is no different from that of many of my peers. If I were born a fan of the Indians, or Astros, or Mariners, or Rangers, I would not have witnessed a World Series victory in my lifetime, either. For many fans my age, the highs and lows provided by the teams we follow are equivalent. The only thing that may differentiate my sadness from fans of the other teams is that I share mine with my father, who, growing up years ago in Chicago, has spent seven decades of his life waiting for a Cubbie victory.
During game two of this series, the broadcasting crew interviewed an older woman in the stands at Fenway. She was an old school, die-hard Red Sox fan, bundled up and busy with her score card. There have been many scenes of rowdy college students or young bar hoppers whooping it up in the afterglow of the Sox victory, but I'm most happy for that lady in the stands and her spiritual kin in Red Sox Nation. Hats off to you.