Ask any true Chicago Cubs fan about their love for their team—whether they just jumped on the bandwagon during this pennant-wining season or have spent their lives waiting for the Big Win—and they’ll have a story to tell. This is mine.

Growing up as a young girl in suburban Chicago, I treasured three possessions——my well-worn catcher’s mitt, my bright blue Schwinn bike and my red transistor radio. All three of these items were inextricably linked to my love for the game of baseball.  In those years, I was what was commonly known at the time as a latch key kid. Since both my parents worked, I was left to my own devices after school and during summers. Unlike kids of today, my two siblings and I were not overscheduled and overbooked with planned activities. Our parents expected us to go out to play and keep ourselves amused until it was time for dinner. It was during those lazy summers, while my siblings were off with their friends or own amusements, that I discovered the joys of baseball and, specifically, the Chicago Cubs.

There was no such thing as tee ball or Little League for girls when I grew up. But there was girl’s softball leagues and I enthusiastically joined up and joined in throughout my entire childhood. And I was pretty good at it. As the team’s pitcher, I willingly accepted the responsibility of throwing strikes across the plate and keeping the team motivated and on course. I truly loved the game. I loved watching it and playing it. While neither of my siblings were particularly into sports, I shared my passion with my dad. While golf was always his sport of choice, he was the one who taught me the right way to throw a fast ball and hold a bat. He was the one who bought me my first real catcher’s mitt and who routinely played catch with me after a long day at work so that I could perfect my pitching skills. My dad was the one who asked how my game went and who would watch the Cubs game with me on a Saturday afternoon. While typically reserved for father-son relationships, our mutual love and respect for the game was something special we both shared.

On any given summer day, I’d slide my catcher’s mitt over the handlebars of my Schwinn and head to the local school field for practice. On days the team couldn’t gather, I’d hop on my bike, sling a bat over my shoulder and head over to the park to practice batting on my own. In either case, I’d have my red transistor radio with me so I could tune into 670 AM to hear Jack Brickhouse, and later, Harry Carey, call the game in the special ways only they could. If I was lucky, I could race home in time to catch the game on WGN TV. I loved how enthusiastically Brickhouse would make the call, even when it seemed unjustified by the team’s poor performance during those “lovable loser” years. I can still remember his trademark expressions “Hey Hey!”, “Whoo-boy!” “Wheee!” and “Oh, brother!” which he regularly peppered throughout his calls.

I remember, too, those rare and special occasions when I was able to visit the friendly confines and attend a game at Wrigley Field. The intimacy of that park is unparalleled and those experiences remain ingrained in my memories forever. There was nothing like sitting in those bleachers on a hot August afternoon, surrounded by the city skyline and iconic ivy on Wrigley Field’s walls. It is and was an experience that is quintessential Chicago. Later, as an adult, I lived in a neighborhood adjacent to Wrigleyville and often walked by the ballpark or soaked up the Cubs lore in one of the popular local establishments—the Cubby Bear, Sluggers, Murphy’s Bleachers and Casey Moran’s. There, too, I would find the unique community I first discovered as a kid.

There is no question that during the time I first discovered the Chicago Cubs, there were many, many lean years. Yet, despite the few successes the Cubs franchise enjoyed during those years, I still marveled at the likes of Bill Madlock, Bill Buckner, Keith Moreland, Jose Cardenal, Ivan DeJesus, Rick Reuschel and Milt Pappas. Later, players like Kerry Wood, Ryne Sandberg and Rick Sutcliffe would offer Cubs fans more reason for hope. They were amazing players and were reminiscent of the greatest baseball players of my generation.

During those solitary summer childhood years, as I sat listening and watching the game, I found such incredible comfort in the special bond I felt with Brickhouse and the players and other fans who continually rooted for a team that had great heart but few wins. Long before social media existed, these people whom I had never personally met, became my community. They did more than keep me company. They gave me hope and purpose. When I donned my own softball team’s uniform and took to the mound, I brought with me the lessons I learned from all of those Cubs games. Regardless of what the scoreboard read, those memorable Cubs players never gave up. They remained a team, committed to their love for the game and love for those fans who never failed in their support. So, whether my own team won or lost, whether I pitched strikes or balls, I never gave up. Quite honestly, I didn’t have anyone rooting me on from the sidelines but, nevertheless, I felt a connection to my team, to our collective love for the game that could never be diminished but which sustained me.

To this day, I can fondly recall that special feeling of being on the mound, surrounded by my teammates, facing a batter on the other side of the plate. It is an experience that has stayed with me and which was amplified by all those hours I spent cheering and watching and learning from the Chicago Cubs.

It’s been 108 years since the Cubs have won the big one—a World Series. Like every other Cubs fan, I am glued to my TV hoping that this is our year. The 2016 team has played extraordinarily well. They deserve to Fly the W, as do their long-time fans who’ve waited their whole lives to witness this kind of play. But if it turns out that Game 7 of the World Series doesn’t go their way, that’s okay too. From where I sit, the Chicago Cubs have already won. This franchise with the big heart has given us a real thrill this year and reminded us of what the true sport of baseball is all about. As our often maligned Cubs made their way to winning the historic pennant this year and then earned their place in this year’s World Series, all those childhood memories come flooding back. I remain a baseball fan to this day, and, in particular, a Chicago baseball fan. Win or lose, this year’s Chicago Cubs season has been a historic one for my city and it is one to be cherished.

But ultimately, my Chicago Cubs story is about rooting for a team that is a symbol of our lives more often than not. It’s easy to keep cheering for teams like the Yankees or Cardinals who, at 47 and 11 World Series a piece, have earned more than their share of big wins. It takes little strength and sacrifice to keep showing up for a team that, either by talent or luck or a combination of both, effortlessly rack up win after win. After all, in our society, we tend to glorify and revere winners while simultaneously knocking down so-called losers.

Yet, the truth is that most people live their lives with a balance of wins and losses without experiencing a game-winning grand slam or World Series-like win. Others experience far more losses than wins. It is precisely those who continue to swing the bat in spite of long runs of bad luck or setbacks who are the real winners. If they’re lucky, they have fans in their corner rooting them on in good times and bad. If they don’t, they take heart that hope springs eternal and through hard work and commitment to their passions, they, too, will win one day. They know that this, too, shall pass.

Perhaps that is why I have continued to root for the underdog. It is why I have cheered on my city’s cherished Chicago Cubs all these years and why this year’s successes in Wrigley Field have meant so much. Somehow when the underdog wins, the success is shared by us all. When years and years of hard work, hope and faith finally culminate in a huge win, it is a reminder that we, too, can win. It is during these times that success is all the more sweeter.

I know my perspective is not shared by everyone—not even in my Chicago hometown. When the underdog succeeds, the haters emerge. There are many out there who are rooting for a Cubs failure. They want this ball club and those fans that support it to continue to be known as the “lovable losers”. That is unfortunate but it says far more about their character than that of the baseball franchise they disdain. These are exciting days in Chicago at a time when the city desperately needs positive news. I choose to embrace it just as I would if it came from any of our other sports teams.

Ultimately, my love for baseball and the Chicago Cubs has been more than a pasttime for me. Whether they knew it or not, the boys in blue have taught me and their other fans important life lessons that can be applied far beyond the baseball field.

• Play ball. If you really and truly love something, don’t let anyone or anything stop you.
• Keep swinging. The only way to strike out at life is to stop trying.
• Approach every day as a brand new ballgame. Yesterday’s scoreboard is gone. All that matters is what you do with today.
• Be your own cleanup hitter. Don’t be afraid to be a leader and be the one to solve a problem. That’s how you become invaluable.
• Step up to be the closer. In business and in life, closers are those who get things done.
• Practice your curveball. Life will throw you a number of curveballs which are completely unexpected and sometimes unpleasant. Learning how to anticipate and respond to curveballs will help you survive these surprises.
• Appreciate the ground balls. Not every time at bat will be a home run. Learn to value ordinary accomplishments that help build a foundation for bigger wins.
• Remember “It ain’t over ’til it’s over.” No matter how many losses you’ve accumulated, don’t give up. Above all else, keep the faith and hope alive.
• Step up to the plate. Be ready. Stay focused. Rise to the occasion when it’s your turn at bat.
• Don’t take cuts at someone. Your success is no success if it involves taking verbal swings or striking a blow at others.
• Don’t be afraid of a swing and a miss. Life is a balance of wins and losses. Many times, it’s only in experiencing the losses that we can truly appreciate the value of a win.
• Be willing to take one for the team. Above all else, be a team player. Embrace the camaraderie and community that you an form only through the collective passions of a like-minded team.

Tomorrow night, on Game 7 of the 2016 World Series, I will be cheering on the Chicago Cubs with all of my heart and soul. I hope we will be celebrating a Big Win. I hope those that have spent their entire lives waiting to fly the ultimate W flag for their team will get their moment. But if the Cubs fail to clinch the World Series win, that’s fine too. I will still regard them as our “wonderful winners” and never as a “lovable loser”. Getting up to bat and consistently putting forth their best effort for 108 years despite loss after loss is the ultimate definition of a winner. That’s what life is. Getting up every day and trying your best even without a guarantee of ever experiencing a grand slam win.

So #GoCubs. I’m rooting for you. Thank you for all the great memories. Thanks, too, for reminding me that hope and faith and perseverence is what really counts. I’m proud of you. Keep swinging.

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