by Sean Chercover
It is snowing outside as I type this. 21 degrees, heading down to a low of 16. That’s minus 9, for those of you in Metric Land. And that’s not very cold, by Chicago standards, but it’s still cold enough to freeze my tired ass.
And of course Marcus and I (being, perhaps, not the sharpest knives in the drawer) just spent the better part of February driving around the Midwest to promote our debut novels.
But you know what? Spring training has begun, and the Cubs just earned their first win of the 2007 campaign. Granted, the Cubs play in Arizona during spring training, but let’s not pick nits. The point is, the boys of summer are back, and if spring is not yet in the Chicago air, it is once again spring in my heart.
And baseball makes everything good again. This summer, my apartment is walking distance to Wrigley Field. My six-month-old son is already decked out in Cubs gear, and I will take him to his first ballgame this year. There will be hot dogs and peanuts and the crack of the bat and the roar of the crowd.
There will be baseball.
And Chicago will again be hot and humid, as Chicago is prone to be in summertime. Tom Skilling (as reliable a weatherman as you will ever meet) says that we’re but three weeks from our first 70-degree day. Come mid-season, the temperature will reach triple digits, which is fine by me.
Speaking of triple digits. . . the last time the Cubs won the world series was 1908. Yes, 99 years ago. Will the Cubbies go into triple digits without a championship? Or will Lou Piniella, Derrek Lee, Alfonso Soriano, Carlos Zambrano, Kerry Wood and the gang put up triple digits in the wins column and restore dignity to a franchise so long mired in mediocrity?
It’s that time of year again, and hope springs eternal in the heart of this long-suffering Cubs fan.